"I shall do that anywhere."
"Change of scene would be so much better for you—travelling—variety."
"Auntie, you are not strong enough to travel with comfort to yourself. I am not going to drag you about for a fanciful alleviation of my sorrow. The landscape may change but not the mind—I should think of—the past—just as much on Mont Blanc as on Willapark. No, dearest, let us go home; let me go back to the old, old life, as it was before I saw Mr. Hamleigh. Oh, what a child I was in those dear days, how happy, how happy."
She burst into tears, melted by the memory of those placid days, the first tears she had shed since she received her lover's answer.
"And you will be happy again, dear. Don't you remember that passage I read to you in 'The Caxtons' a few days ago, in which the wise tender-hearted father tells his son how small a space one great sorrow takes in a life, and how triumphantly the life soars on beyond it?"
"Yes, I remember; but I didn't believe him then, and I believe him still less now," answered Christabel, doggedly.
Major Bree called that afternoon, and found Mrs. Tregonell alone in the drawing-room.
"Where is Belle?" he asked.
"She has gone for a long country ride—I insisted upon it."
"You were quite right. She was looking as white as a ghost yesterday when I just caught a glimpse of her in the next room. She ran away like a guilty thing when she saw me. Well, has this cloud blown over? Is Hamleigh back?"