“Envious! Dear mamma, what a word! But don’t you think Leonard and Miss Digby seem born for each other? And then the recollections of their childhood—the thoughts of childhood are so deep, and its memories so strangely soft!” The long lashes drooped over Violante’s musing eyes as she spoke. “And therefore,” she said, after a pause,—“therefore I hoped that Miss Digby might not be very rich nor very high-born.”
“I understand you now, Violante,” exclaimed Jemima, her own early passion for match-making instantly returning to her; “for as Leonard, however clever and distinguished, is still the son of Mark Fairfield the carpenter, it would spoil all if—Miss Digby was, as you say, rich and high-born. I agree with you,—a very pretty match, a very pretty match, indeed. I wish dear—Mrs. Dale were here now,—she is so clever in settling such matters.”
Meanwhile Leonard and Helen walked side by side a few paces in the rear. He had not offered her his arm. They had been silent hitherto since they left Riccabocca’s house.
Helen now spoke first. In similar cases it is generally the woman, be she ever so timid, who does speak first. And here Helen was the bolder; for Leonard did not disguise from himself the nature of his feelings, and Helen was engaged to another, and her pure heart was fortified by the trust reposed in it.
“And have you ever heard more of the good Dr. Morgan, who had powders against sorrow, and who meant to be so kind to us,—though,” she added, colouring, “we did not think so then?”
“He took my child-angel from me,” said Leonard, with visible emotion; “and if she had not returned, where and what should I be now? But I have forgiven him. No, I have never met him since.”
“And that terrible Mr. Burley?”
“Poor, poor Burley! He, too, is vanished out of my present life. I have made many inquiries after him; all I can hear is that he went abroad, supposed as a correspondent to some journal. I should like so much to see him again, now that perhaps I could help him as he helped me.”
“Helped you—ah!”
Leonard smiled with a beating heart, as he saw again the dear prudent, warning look, and involuntarily drew closer to Helen. She seemed more restored to him and to her former self.