The offer was therefore made, and was gratefully accepted both by John Temple and May.
“It is more than good of you,” wrote John, “but I will leave May to thank you herself.”
May’s letter was a pretty bride-like epistle, in which “dear John’s” name occurred and re-occurred in every other line. “I am quite, quite happy,” she wrote; “but how could I be otherwise when dear John is so good to me, and when I am with him, for that alone means happiness to me. We wander together about this wonderful city, and dear John shows me beautiful things of which I had never dreamed, and which but for him I should have never seen. I tell him he is like some prince in the fairy tales, who found his poor little country sweetheart in the green woods. I feel so unworthy of him, but he will never listen to this, and his generous, noble words are very dear and sweet to my heart. I will tell you some day what he says on the subject, though I know it is only his great goodness that makes him speak thus. Still he says I make him very happy, and I pray to God night and day that I may always be able to do so.”
“Sweet young creature!” said Miss Eliza, wiping away a tear as she read these tender, loving words.
Miss Webster also was not unmoved. But when Ralph Webster arrived they did not show him May’s letter.
“She is very happy,” Miss Webster said, gently, and then for the first time she noticed the change in her nephew’s appearance.
“Why, Ralph!” she exclaimed, and then paused.
“You are looking at my gray hairs,” said Ralph, quietly. “Yes, isn’t it funny? It must have been the air of Switzerland.”
Miss Webster said nothing, but she thought the more. Not only had the air of Switzerland sown many white hairs round Ralph Webster’s broad brow, but it had visibly lined and aged his face. He, in fact, was looking ill, and not like a man who had just returned from his holiday.
“I am glad to get back to my work,” he said, and he was. Work was good for him, and his strong, firm mind recognized this.