I did not know last Friday morning that anything was wanting to me. And had I not enough? My farm-duties, which restrict my study-time just enough to leave it always the zest of privilege; my books, possessed or on the way; my mother's dear affection; your faithful letters, true to the hour; Selden's, that come at last;—these, and then the casual claims, the little countless pleasures infinitely varied, special portion of each human day! always something to do, something to enjoy, something to expect. And yet I would not now go back and be where I was last Friday morning. Beautiful miracle! Our cup is always full, yet its capacity is never reached!
Since the day I stood at my gate, listening for the fading sounds of your horse's feet, many guests have crossed my threshold and recrossed it,—all received with good-will, dismissed with good wishes. Last Friday brought one whom I took to my heart and hold there. The first clasp of his firm hand, the first look of his sweet, frank eyes, bound me to him forever. Keith, I have more to love than I had a week ago, and the world is more beautiful for me, life better worth living.
We had had gray weather for a week before he came; the blue sky appeared with him, and smiled on us every day while he was here. I cannot now separate the thought of him from that of sunshine, nor can I tell how much of the glow and freshness of those days was of the atmosphere, how much from his happy nature.
I had just come in from work, and was sitting near the window, watching the slowly clearing sky, when I heard a step coming down the road. You know I am used to listen to approaching footsteps, and to judge beforehand what manner of man is about to present himself at my door. This was a step that struck very cheerfully on the ear. Firm, regular, it had no haste in it, yet a certain eagerness. My mother heard it, too. "The feet of him that bringeth good tidings," she said, smiling. The sun broke out full and clear as she spoke. "Can it be Dr. Borrow?—it must be," I asked and answered myself; and my heart warmed to him as it had not when I was reading his praises in Selden's letter. I heard the gate open and close again. I went to the door, and saw, coming along the path I guided you on that first dark night, a figure that agreed perfectly with the step, but not at all with what I had imagined Dr. Borrow. It was that of a man hardly more than twenty, who carried about with him, it seemed, a world of youthful happiness, but assuredly no great weight of learning. Erect, vigorous, animated, his whole person spoke harmonious strength and freedom of soul and body. His head was uncovered,—or, rather, it was protected only by its masses of fair brown hair, whose curls the light wind that had sprung up to meet him lifted tenderly, as if to show them sparkling in the sunshine. This was no chance visitor; he walked as if he knew where he was going, and felt himself an expected and a welcome guest. He had come from far; his well-fitting travelling-suit of dark gray told of a very distant skill and fashion, and was a little the worse for the long road. He had a knapsack on his shoulders. From a strap which crossed his breast hung a green tin case, such as botanists carry on their tours. This, again, connected him with Dr. Borrow; but the wild-flowers in his hand had been gathered for their beauty, not their rarity, and the happy grace of their arrangement denoted rather the artist than the savant.
He saw me as soon as I came to the door; for he quickened his step, and, from where I stood, I could see his face brighten. You do not know the face, and it is not like any other; how can you understand the impression it made on me?
Our hands were soon joined in a cordial clasp. He answered my warm welcome with a look full of youthful delight, behind which lay an earnest, manly satisfaction.
The name which was in my mind came, though hesitatingly, to my lips: "Dr. Borrow——" I began. A flash of merriment passed over my guest's features; but they were instantly composed, as if he felt the mirthful thought a disrespect to the absent.
"I am Harry Dudley. Dr. Borrow is coming. I walked on before to let you know."
He laid his bouquet of wild-flowers in the shadow of the doorsteps, threw off his knapsack, flung down on it the felt hat he had carried crumpled up under his arm, and, turning, showed himself ready to walk off with me to meet the Doctor. We had reached the gate, when he stopped suddenly and looked towards the house.
"But do you not wish——?"