Mrs. Hayward received the young soldier, and in a short conversation with him justly estimated the strength and delicacy of his feelings; it was impossible for any one to have been more deeply aware of the difficult part he had to perform, nor to have evinced more tenderness in the manner in which he executed it.
‘I would not have pressed Miss Hayward upon the subject,’ he said; ‘I would not willingly distress her, nor excite thoughts which must violently affect her; but I made a promise solemnly to Herbert, and I have come to fulfil it: and it will be a gratification to me if I am allowed to do so. Still, if she declines an interview with me, I would leave the packet with you, Mrs. Hayward—convinced that it will be in safe hands, and it can be delivered or not to Miss Hayward as you please.’
‘If you will remain here, Captain Dalton, I will see Amy, and state what you say to her,’ replied the old lady, ‘but I can promise nothing: she is usually calm and strong-minded, but your coming may have such an effect upon her as to unfit her for receiving you. You shall, however, soon know the truth.’ And so saying she left the room.
Philip looked around. There were books, Italian and Spanish poets open upon the table, with some beautiful embroidery, which showed that Amy must have been there when he was announced. On a side table was an unfinished landscape—a large tree, a few sheep, and a mossy bank, beautifully painted; and the colours and water which stood near it proved that she had lately been engaged upon it. Philip went to examine it, and while admiring the freedom and vigour of the drawing, and the keen perception of nature evident in the colouring, the door gently opened, and a lady entered, whose appearance caused in his heart a thrill of excitement, and a confusion in his address which he had little expected.
‘Miss Hayward, I presume,’ he said, advancing to her with hesitation; for her beauty, the sweet expression of her face, and her mild blue eyes, fixed his attention, and rendered his manner involuntarily constrained.
Amy could not reply, her heart was full even to choking; she had in vain tried to compose herself when his name was announced; but unable to do so, she had left the room; and it was only on hearing the message her mother had delivered, that she determined to see the friend of her Herbert, to speak to him who had received his last message for her; and she came down alone to meet him. She had, however, taxed her powers of endurance to the utmost: the sight of the tall and manly figure of Philip, his dark and expressive features—bronzed somewhat by an eastern sun, yet preserving the ruddy glow of health—his soldier-like form and bearing—all caused at first a rush of remembrances almost too powerful to endure; and her imagination, despite of her efforts not to yield to such thoughts, could not help picturing to herself how Herbert would have been improved—how he would have looked, how he would have met her after their long absence! She could not speak to Dalton, but trembled exceedingly, and would have fallen; but, seeing her agitation, he assisted her to a seat; she sank into it, and, unable to speak, buried her face in her hands. Philip sat silent for a while, but he saw that further delay would only be a protraction of her misery.
‘Miss Hayward,’ he said very respectfully, ‘I am the bearer of a small packet for you, which I promised to deliver; if you will receive it from my hands, I shall be gratified, as you will have enabled me to fulfil a promise I have looked on as sacred.’
Again Amy endeavoured to reply, but her words failed her, and her hand trembled so much as she stretched it out to him, that he feared the consequences of her emotion.
‘I implore you to be calm, Miss Hayward; shall I ring for water—for your mother? can I do aught to assist you?’ he continued, as he gave her the little packet, which she received with extreme agitation, and not daring to look at him.
‘No, I thank you, Captain Dalton,’ she said at length, after a severe effort to repress her feelings, in which she partly succeeded. ‘I am better now, and will hear whatever he—whatever you have to say—it will be better than to delay.’