CHAPTER XVII.
OVER MOUNTAIN AND VALLEY.
THERE is no living an equal, uniform life. Night and day, rest and motion, wild tumult and stagnant repose, and all the changes of the season; thus it is in the life of nature; thus it is in the human heart, and it is well for that heart, if in all its changes, it does not wander from its true path.
It was broad daylight when the lovers reached the town. A long time before, when they first met a person walking, they both dismounted; they felt that their appearance was singular, and that first man, a messenger from memory, reminded them that they must come out of Eden and assume again the order of humanity and custom. John led the horse in one hand, and gave the other to Amrie, and thus they silently entered the town. When they looked at each other, their faces shone like those of children just awaked from sleep, but when they looked away, or down upon themselves, they were anxious about what should next occur.
As though she had already talked with John, and he had prudently reflected upon the subject, Amrie said,—
“Indeed, it would have been wiser if we had calmly arranged matters beforehand. If you had gone home, and I, in the mean time, had remained somewhere,—if nowhere else, with Mathew the coal-burner in the forest,—and you had come for me with your mother, or written to me, and I could have followed with my Dami. But do you know what I think?”
“Not quite all that you think.”
“I think regret is the stupidest thing one can allow to come over him. Do what we may, we cannot make yesterday to-day. What we did in the jubilee of our hearts was right, and must remain right; we must not, now that we are a little more sober, reproach ourselves for it; we must now reflect how we can make the future good and useful to us. You are a sensible man, and you will see that it is best to consider and tell me every thing freely. Say what you may, you will not distress me; but if you conceal any thing from me, it will distress me sorely. Say, do you repent what we have done?”
“Can you guess a riddle?” asked John.
“Yes, as a child, I could.”
“Well, now tell me this, it is a simple word. Take away the first letter and you might as well lose your head; put it back again, and it is all right.”