Even into the utmost sacredness of their affection, that sister's image must be brought—it did cause Elizabeth pain in spite of all her denials—Mellen might have discovered that if he had seen her face. But the feeling passed swiftly, the face cleared, and while it brightened under his loving words the strength of a great resolution settled down upon it.
They sat in that old fashioned room talking for a long time. It was the happiest, most peaceful day they had spent since Mellen's return.
After a time, Mellen proposed that they should go out to ride, for the afternoon was sunny and delightful.
"A long gallop over the hills will do you good," he said; "it is a shame to spend such weather in the house."
While he ordered the horses, Elizabeth went up to her dressing-room to put on her habit.
She dressed herself without assistance, and with a feverish haste which brought the color to her face and light to her eyes.
"I will be happy," she muttered; "I will not think. There is no looking back now; it is too late; only let me keep the past shut close and go on toward the future."
As she stood before the glass, gazing absently at the reflection of her own face and repeating those thoughts aloud, her husband's voice called her from the hall below.
"Bessie, come down—the horses are at the door."
She broke away from her reverie and hurried downstairs, where he met her with a fond smile and a new pride in her unusual beauty.