At any time the invitation would have been welcome, but now the imploring looks of the fair girl were arguments which could not be resisted.
‘I will be with you as early as I can,’ Herbert replied, ‘as soon as I can complete a task I have here, and I will not leave you till night; so for the present farewell, and I beg you to procure me the forgiveness, and I will add the blessing, of her whom I hope to call a second mother.’
‘You need have no doubts,’ said Mr. Hayward; ‘you have nothing to apprehend, but, on the contrary, I can assure you that this subject will be one of great delight to her; so once more, God bless you!’
Amy followed him to the hall-door, apparently to shut it after him, but she passed out with him, after a moment’s coquetting with the handle. ‘You will not fail, dear Herbert? I could not bear disappointment now,’ she said to him, her eyes filling and sparkling like violets with dew-drops hanging in them.
‘Nor for worlds would I give you one moment’s pain, dearest; fear not, I shall be with you soon after noon to-morrow. Good-bye, and God bless you!’
Perhaps it was that they had approached very nigh each other as they spoke, and he could not resist the tempting opportunity, or perhaps,—but it is of no use to speculate,—certain it is that he drew her to him gently, and imprinted one fervent kiss on her lips. She did not chide him, but felt the more cheerful afterwards that she had received it.
Herbert hurried home, and instantly sought his parents; he told them all, nor concealed from them one thought by which he had been actuated, nor one struggle against his love which he had failed to overcome. They were both much affected, for indeed it was a solemn thing to contemplate the plighting of their son’s faith with Amy, on the eve of such a separation. Yet they were gratified; and in their prayers that night, and ever afterwards, they commended the beloved pair to the guardianship and protection of Him whom they worshipped in spirit and in truth.
CHAPTER XI.
The morrow came—a bright and joyous day, on which the spirit of beauty and of love revelled in every natural creation, and was abroad over the whole earth,—a day of dreamy, voluptuous repose, when one feels only fitted to hold silent converse with nature in intense admiration of the glorious perfection of her works.