Their road, after leaving the village, lay over the snowy hills and plains, and through the forest around the base of Mount Calm. In making the circuit they once came in full view of the front of the mansion house, and Elsie, seizing her husband’s arm, exclaimed:
“Magnus, tie your pocket-handkerchief at the end of your stick, and get up and wave it. I know that our beloved mother has been watching at that window for the last hour to see us pass. I know it, though it is too distant to see her distinctly; yet I think I see somebody there. Wave it, Magnus, and then we’ll know.”
Dr. Hardcastle stood up, lifted the impromptu flag on high, and presently the signal was returned by a white cloth waved from the window, and instantly withdrawn.
“She saw us, she saw us, Magnus! But stay! why didn’t she look out?”
“It would not have been safe on such a sharp morning as this for your mother to run her head out of the window in that bleak, exposed position,” said Magnus, repressing the various vague forebodings of his heart.
“I am afraid something has happened to mother, Magnus. Oh! indeed, I feel as if something had,” said Elsie anxiously.
“Nonsense, my love. I saw some of the gentlemen who were there last night until twelve, and who slept at the hotel, and one of them told me when I inquired, that all the family were well. However, Elsie, in driving around we will see some of the colored folks, and receive fresh assurance. Elsie, dear, it is solely on your mother’s account that I do not turn into the grounds and drive up to the mansion house now, and make a last effort at reconciliation with your father. I know, Elsie, that it would only subject her to a violent and perhaps fatal scene. I know, poor child, that it is a great trial to you to pass by your father’s house, bound for a long journey, and a new, strange life, without stopping to ask his blessing. Oh! I know it, my poor Elsie! but keep your courage; this is the sharpest, and it is also the last trial you shall have.”
“Oh, my courage is up,” said Elsie, dashing the sparkling tears from her eyes, and smiling out like an April sun from the clouds. “These, father, are the very last tears I am going to shed. No, indeed, won’t I weep, and make you sad for me, my dear Magnus! No, indeed, won’t I, for anybody’s cruelty and injustice!”
“Hush, hush, my darling! ‘The heart grows bitter by saying bitter things,’” said Magnus, kissing the dew-drops from her rosy cheek.
“Gee up, Dobbin! Make them gee up, Magnus,” said Elsie, poking at the mules with the point of her umbrella.