A sense of fear and loneliness had been upon her; and she had come home to her father and her mother, and now there was a sweet lulling feeling of peace at her heart which she had not felt for a long time past.
Had the visit of Arthur Phillips done anything to enhance that sensation of quiet and repose? He had been in her thoughts more than once, as she sat there with her hand in her father’s.
It was no use Luke or his wife expostulating with Phœbe; home she had come, and at home she would stay. And when at length the wondering domestic at the Hall Farm came to show her to the room which had been always set apart for Amy’s use, Phœbe knelt and received her mother’s blessing, bade Luke good-night, and called him “Father” again.
Luke and his wife had rarely sat up so late as upon this eventful night, and so much good will sometimes come out of evil, and sins confessed are so nearly atoned for—that Luke and his wife loved each other now for the first time. There was a deep wondering pity in Luke’s heart for his wife now that he saw the secret of her life, and looked at the drooping head and the eyes filled with tears. Mrs. Somerton had not expected such a generous forgiveness, and so much sympathy and gentleness, at Luke’s hands. In the last few weeks she had suffered a world of remorse for her past shrewish conduct, and now her gratitude knew no bounds; gratitude and sympathy and pity, and memories of the past, mingled together in these two hearts, and on the steady downward path of life they came to love each other with a quiet calm love that is nearest akin to a long-proved generous friendship.
CHAPTER XI.
DURING THE WINTER.
The winter slipped swiftly away, without making many important changes in the positions of the people in our story.
Important events were in course of consummation, but no special incident cropped up to mark the gradual development of the various circumstances calling for anything more than simple narration.
Earl Verner had taken several opportunities to renew his acquaintance with Amy, and we must do his lordship the justice to say that her sudden and unexpected advancement in fortune had little or no influence upon his course of wooing, for he was hit at that first interview, hit irredeemably. There was something in Amy besides her good looks which had fairly fascinated the earl. The idea of a thoroughly companionable and intellectual woman had never presented itself to him before. Hitherto women had represented to him trouble, bother, putting yourself out of the way, and everything that was not being easy and lazy and lolling about, and grubbing amongst old books, and fadding with ancient china, and being constantly delighted with pictures. Woman engrossed all this in herself. She wanted to be old china and books and pictures and antiquities and everything all in one; and this notion did not suit Earl Verner; but in Amy he felt that there would not be this autocracy. She was evidently as much interested in these things as he was himself, and, considering how much his condescension in marrying her would elevate her in the social scale, he would have an influence over her that he could not hope to have over a woman in his own walk of life.
The more he saw of Amy Tallant the more enraptured he became, and well he might, for Amy spared no pains to make herself charming and agreeable in his eyes; indeed, Amy had vowed to herself that she would marry him. She would show Lionel Hammerton what a mistake he had made when he sported with the deep feelings of a girl like her.