“My dear, my heart is all one thanksgiving!”
“Cecil’s rejoicing is quite as much for Jock’s sake as over his boy. He told me how they had been pledged as brothers in arms, and traces all that is best in himself to those days at Engelberg.”
“Yes, that night on the mountain was the great starting-point, thanks to dear little Armine.”
“I am writing to him and to Allen,” said Barbara from a corner.
“My love a thousand times, and we will meet at home!”
“Then our joy will not feel incongruous to you?” said Mrs. Evelyn.
“No, I am too thankful for what I know of my poor Janet. She is mine now as she never was since she was a baby in my arms. I scarcely grieve, for happiness was over for her, and hers was a noble death. They have placed her name in the memorial tablet in Abville Church, to those who laid down their lives for their brethren there. I begged it might be, ‘Janet Hermann, daughter of Joseph Brownlow’—for I thank God she died worthy of her father. In all ways I can say of this journey, my children were dead and are alive again, were lost and are found.”
“Ah! I was sure it must be so, if such a girl as Miss Ashton could accept Robert.”
“I am happier about him than I ever thought to be. I do not say that his faith is like John’s or Armine’s, but he is striving back through the mists, and wishing to believe, rather than being proud of disbelieving, and Primrose knows what she is doing, and is aiding him with all her power.”
“As our Esther never could have done,” said Mrs. Evelyn, “except by her gentle innocence.”