CHAPTER THE LAST.
AT ABBOT'S LEIGH.
The old year, which had been so full of trouble and sorrow, was passing gently away in calm and unusual brightness.
The air was soft and balmy, and the sunshine lay upon the picturesque village of Abbot's Leigh, and threw out every yellow lichen on the red roofs of the houses, and every leafless branch of the trees in full brightness and defined outline.
The year was full of grace and beauty on this its last day; and Gilbert Arundel, walking up and down the sunny terrace path before his house, on the left of the road leading to the church, felt the pleasant sense of returning strength and health, which is always so sweet.
The garden was at the back of the house, and before him lay a goodly prospect. The lowlands, sloping down to the mouth of the Severn, were bathed in the sunshine, and beyond, in clear outline, was the great encircling range of blue mountains on the opposite coast of Wales. In the clear atmosphere of the winter morning, everything was distinctly seen. The wooded headland of Portishead shot out to the left, and was rounded at full tide by many ships, outward bound for the rolling waters of the Atlantic.
Snowy gulls dipped and whirled on airy flight near the shore, and small crafts, with all sails set, danced and curtseyed beneath them as they made for the harbour.
"It is a place to rest and get well in," Gilbert thought; and then he turned at the sound of footsteps.