"Let me feel it," he said promptly, seizing upon the excuse.
"No, no, sir! You mustn't! Fleming may look round any moment," and she cast a glance of mock warning at that important individual seated on the box. "But you may hold my hand, if you like. Isn't it trembling?" and she turned her eyes upon him piteously, though a soft smile played upon her parted lips. "Oh, Yorke, I feel so—so small before all this. I ought to have been six feet high, and very, very stately! And instead I feel so tiny and insignificant! There is one good thing. I shall be able to get behind you and hide myself. Do you know that you have grown dreadfully big, Yorke?"
He laughed.
"Have I? I dare say. Happiness, like laughter, makes one grow fat. I shouldn't be surprised if I developed into a kind of Daniel Lambert. There was one fat Rothbury. I'll show you his portrait, and if you like it I'll try and live up to it. Oh, what lots I have to show you! But, I forgot, I must leave that to Dolph! The dear old chap will love to trot you around the place, for he's proud of it, though he is always growling and calling it a barracks, and an overgrown show. Dear old Dolph! Now—oh, you are not going to cry!"
"No, no!" Leslie responded, wiping her eyes stealthily. "It—it was only the sun in my eyes. Oh, Yorke, how good Heaven has been to us in every way! Think how sad it would have been to have come home and found him gone from us!"
Yorke nodded with momentary gravity.
"Yes, Heaven has been very good to us, dearest," he said in a low, fervent voice. "In that as in all things."
The horses tore along as if they knew they were being eagerly waited for, and presently the sound of cheering rose and swelled into a volume as the carriage passed under the arch. As it passed Leslie looked up and uttered an exclamation of delight.
"Oh, look, Yorke!" she cried. "Yorke, look!"
Half a dozen of the prettiest of the village school-girls stood on a bower on top of the arch, and the moment the carriage was underneath they began to sing and throw roses into it.