'No; I understand now. The fancy bore me up from I don't know what, till I had got myself in hand again; but when I look at it reasonably, I see she was glad to find me alive, out of common humanity, and because she thought she had vexed me; but as to the real feeling, this note shows plainly enough where that goes.'
'If it were so, there would hardly be such openness of expression.'
'Do you think so?' (eagerly, then catching himself up). 'No; it is only that the consciousness has never been brought out.'
'I don't believe he will ever voluntarily bring out anybody's consciousness.'
'Then he ought! Why is he to debar himself from happiness, and disregard other people's feelings? I tell you, it is positively wrong to keep hanging about him and hampering him. You would do much better to leave him to be happy, and come and let us get on together as we can at home. You might make it just tolerable!'
'My poor Lancey,' said Cherry, smiling, 'things are hardly so far advanced; but if they were, you would be my best dependence.'
'But you'll tell him? And let no fancy stand in the way of his—of their happiness.'
'Tell? You mean of her coming over? Very well, if you think it right. Nay, indeed, it is not the wish to keep him to myself, but the assurance of his resolution—and, dear old Lancey, I don't like your going back to the old mill without the bird in your bosom.'
He hid his face in both his arms as he sat over the table, but recovering himself, said, 'Never mind! Hoping for him is some hope, and there's too much on hand for being down in the mouth. It will all come right somehow,' he repeated, secure in that faith, even under his sense of disappointment; but after all, is not a generous consent the best balm in disappointment?
After this conversation, Cherry and Lance were struck, amid a somewhat astonished congregation, when the next day, the Vicar in his pulpit gave out in his clear ringing voice, like a trumpet proclamation, his text, 'And His Banner over me is Love.'