Mr. Prevost had retired to his room to write, and Lord H---- and Edith sat together in front of the house, gazing out toward the setting sun.
They talked of many things, some not at all connected with the circumstances of the present or the future; they feared to dwell upon them too long, and they often sought relief in indifferent topics, but still the coming hour was vaguely present to the mind of each. It was like sitting near a waterfall, with the quiet, melancholy murmur of the cataract mingling harmoniously but sadly with every other sound.
"I trust, dear Edith, that we shall see them together," said Lord H----, speaking of distant lands where they both had birth. "There is many a lovely thing to be met with in the old world, both in nature and in art, and though I love these beautiful scenes well, and enjoy as much as anyone the magnificence of unadorned nature, yet methinks that is no reason why we should not appreciate to the full all that is fine and lovely, though of a different character. It is the narrow-minded man alone, the man of an uncapacious soul, who suffers one sort of excellence to take possession of his taste or heart. Beauty and goodness are infinitely varied, and though I may love some aspects best, yet I trust ever to be capable of deriving pleasure from each and all."
"But you have seen all these things, George," she answered. "Will it not weary you to go over them all again with so untutored a companion as myself?"
He gazed at her for a moment with a look of earnest affection, and gently pressed the hand he held in his. "I take a new light with me, Edith," he replied, "a light that will give new loveliness to everything that is beautiful. I have often thought, my beloved, that to see our own sensations--I mean happy ones: enjoyment, admiration, satisfaction--reflected from the mind of one so dear as you are to me, must be like beholding a loved scene reflected from the bosom of a calm lake, when every fair feature and bright hue acquires a magic luster and a brightness greater in the borrowed image than even in the tangible reality. These are happy dreams, Edith; let us trust to renew them some few weeks hence, and then, whenever this campaign is over, I will quit this busy, perilous game of war, if Edith will then be mine, and realize the visions we love so well. In the meanwhile, dear one, as everyone who goes into battle encounters certainly some peril, let us speak a word of the future in case the worst should befall. You will remember me, Edith, I am sure, if I should not return. I do not think you will ever love another so well; but remember, I am not so selfish in my love as to wish you to sacrifice the whole comfort and happiness of a life to the memory of one departed. Be happy when and in what way you can. Consult your own feelings solely, and I do believe that if spirits can look down on earth when parted from this frail body, your happiness, however it is attained, will add to mine; for I cannot believe that when we quit this earth we carry the selfishness of clay along with us."
The tears swam in Edith's eyes, and gemmed the long, black lashes round them, but they ran not over. "I have but one wish on earth, George," she answered, "when I think of the chances that you mention. It is that I may not survive you, even for an hour. If I had not known it could not be, I would have asked to go with you, in the hope that if you are to fall, one hour might take us both."
Lord H---- smiled sadly, and shook his head. "That might entail greater sorrows still," he answered, "and in no sense could it be, my Edith. No soldier should have his wife with him. While in the field he should be detached as much as possible from every thought but that of duty. I doubt, indeed, that he should have any tie to earth whatever, except those which God imposed upon him at birth. This is one reason why I shall quit the army. I am less fit to be a soldier than I was, but I should be utterly unfit if I thought you were in peril. From all apprehension on that score, indeed, I go free. I felt some uneasiness, indeed, while I thought that you were to remain alone here, with none but the servants round you. As matters are arranged at present, however, you will be quite safe with Colonel Schneider and his wife. Besides his servants, the host of workmen employed in finishing his house and all the other works he has going on, will prove a little bodyguard in itself."
"I should have felt myself perfectly secure here," replied Edith, "for the familiar aspect of all things round gives a sort of confidence which I could feel nowhere else. These Schneiders I hardly know, but if you and my father are better satisfied, I am content to be with them. What hour are we to set out to-morrow?"
"Between one and two o'clock," replied Lord H----, "will be quite time enough. The distance is but six miles, and your father and I can very well escort you thither and reach Fort Edward before night."
"I am glad of that," answered Edith. "To-morrow is the day that poor Captain Brooks is to be here. I should much like to see him once more, and I hope that he will arrive before we go. If not, I must tell the servants to provide for him well, and show him every kindness. Oh, George, is it not terrible to think of his encountering such a fate? The very idea of providing his last meals for him when going to a voluntary death makes my heart sink with horror and regret."