"He speaks of Mr. Myrvin in terms that bring tears to my eyes, tears of which, my dear Ellen, I am not at all ashamed. The only drawback to the life of a soldier, which my brother has now positively resolved on, in spite of all our persuasions, exists, he says, in the consequent separation from Mr. Myrvin, and he almost wishes to go to Cambridge, to chain him to his side; but for Mr. Myrvin's sake, I am glad this will not be. He is looking ill, very ill, quite different to the Arthur Myrvin we knew at Oakwood; a change has come over him which I cannot describe, and even to myself can scarcely define. He is much more polished in his manner, but it is tinged with such deep melancholy, or intense thought, I really do not know which it is, that he appears many years older than when he left England. My father has at length prevailed on him to resign all idea of again seeking the arduous charge of tutor, but, with that honest pride which I so much admire and esteem, he has refused all papa's offers of advancement, only consenting to accept the living on Eugene's estate, when Louis shall require his services no longer. I trust the healthy air of Cornwall and the quiet of his parish will restore him to health, for the care which preserved that of Louis has, I fear, ruined his own. He goes to London to-morrow to see Herbert; the society of your cousins cannot fail to do him good. Louis joins the army in a few months, and then Mr. Myrvin will take possession of his living; but you will in all probability see them before, as Lord and Lady St. Eval have sent a pressing invitation for them to come down to Castle Terryn, and as soon as Mr. Myrvin returns from London, Louis intends doing so. I want to hear Herbert's opinion of his friend, as my dismal fancies concerning him may, after all, be only a woman's fancy, yet looking ill he decidedly is."
So wrote Lady Florence, and very soon Herbert and Percy's letters home confirmed all she had said. Either the air of Germany had not been congenial, or some other cause had so changed his outward appearance and tinged his manner, that Herbert could not look on him without pain; but the restless irritation, the haughty indifference which had been his before he left Oakwood, no longer existed. There was a quiet dignity about him that prevented all intrusive sympathy, a mild, steady lustre in his dark grey eye, which so clearly said conscience was at peace, that Herbert instinctively felt the bonds of friendship stronger than they had ever been before; he was no longer anxious, for he felt assured the errors of Arthur's former life were conquered, and he wrote to his father concerning his friend with all his native eloquence.
Emmeline made no observation; her young soul was absorbed in an intense feeling of thanksgiving, that her prayers had been heard. Strength had been granted him, and he had done his duty; he was esteemed, beloved; his character was pure and bright; and if the gulf between them remained impassable, should she murmur, when all for which she had prayed had been vouchsafed her? But a sterner call of obedience appeared about to hover over her, from which her young spirit shrunk back appalled.
Herbert's anxious wishes were accomplished; there was no longer any barrier to his earnest prayers to become a servant of his God, and of service to his fellow-creatures. The six years in which he had laboured unceasingly, untiringly, to prepare himself for the life which from his boyhood he had chosen, now appeared but as a passing dream, and as he knelt before the venerable bishop, his feelings became almost overpowering. Tears rose in his eyes, and he drooped his head upon his hands to conceal them. He felt this was no common life on which he entered, no mere profession, in which he would be at liberty to think and act as he pleased. Herbert felt that he had vowed himself to do the work of God; that in it was comprised the good of his fellow-creatures. The stern conquest of his own rebellious will; that his actions, not his language only, should uphold the glory of his Maker.
The return of Percy and Herbert brought pleasure to Oakwood, and a week or two afterwards Lord and Lady St. Eval, with their little boy, arrived, imparting additional happiness. Emmeline was surprised at seeing them, for she thought Lord Louis and his preceptor were expected at Castle Terryn. Lord St. Eval often spoke of his brother, and alluded to Myrvin, and even hinted his thanks to Emmeline for her exertions in the latter's favour, when the Marquis was hesitating whether or not to intrust him with the charge of his son; but on such matters he never spoke openly, yet not so guardedly as to betray to Emmeline he was acquainted with her secret.
Mr. Hamilton had many private conversations both with the young Earl and his son Herbert, but what the subject was which so engrossed him only Mrs. Hamilton knew.
The return of Edward, too, from a short cruise gave additional spirit to Oakwood. The young sailor had rapidly run through the grades of lieutenant, and now stood the first on the line; his character both as a sailor and a man was confirmed. He was as deservedly respected by his messmates as beloved by his family, and to Ellen he was indeed dear. The most perfect confidence existed between this affectionate brother and sister, except on one point, and on that even to Edward she could not speak; but he had not one thought, one feeling which he concealed from her, he sought no other friend. Scarcely could Mrs. Cameron and her son Walter recognise in this amiable young man the headstrong, fiery, overbearing lad they had known in India.
The little party at Oakwood had all either walked or ridden out, and Mrs. Hamilton alone remained at home. She stood by the side of Emmeline, who was asleep, peacefully and sweetly; a smile bright and beautiful as of other days, played round her lips. The mother reflected on the words of Mr. Maitland, who had assured her, the remedy he proposed would be successful. "Make her happy, remove this weighty load which weighs upon her heart, and she will live to be the blessing she has ever been to all who love her."
Tears of mingled feeling rose to the eyes of Mrs. Hamilton as she watched her child. Emmeline's lips moved. "Arthur, dear Arthur," she murmured, a faint flush rising to her cheek, and the smile heightened in its brilliancy; a few minutes, and her eyes unclosed; a shade of disappointment passed over her features, a faint sigh struggled to escape, but it was checked, for she met her mother's fond glance, and smiled.
"Why are you not gone out, dearest mother, this lovely evening? why stay with such a dull companion as I am? Percy and Edward could offer so many more attractions, and I am sure it is not with their good-will you are here."