CHAPTER IX.
All have their tasks and trials; thine are hard,
But short the time, and glorious the reward,
Thy patient spirit to thy duties give,
Regard the dead, but to the living live.
Crabbe.
It was with pleasure—melancholy, indeed, but still most sincere—that Mabel was welcomed at the rectory. Mr. Ware and his sister emulated each other, in endeavours to cheer her, before her introduction to a gayer scene, which they knew awaited her in Bath. Their party had been increased by the arrival of Mr. Clifford, the young architect, mentioned by Colonel Hargrave, who had easily been induced to accept a room in the pleasant rectory; so that, together with Rogers, the bailiff, whose sick room required every attention, Mr. Ware was busy enough. Mr. Clifford brought with him different plans for the improvement of the estate, and the re-building of the village, on a different scale; and the greater part of the evening was generally occupied in talking these over, or drawing fresh ones. In this occupation Mr. Ware would gladly have interested Mabel; but she was scarcely equal to the exertion, and he well knew he could expect nothing, reasonably, beyond the unmurmuring resignation, which characterised her grief, and the transient, tearful interest she sometimes displayed in what they were doing. The comfort and happiness of her favorite village never could be unheeded by her; but it required some relaxation of her over taxed nervous system before she could again become the self-forgetful, cheerful companion she had been. This indulgence was freely granted her—and her affectionate heart soon warmed to the watchful love which surrounded her, as the drooping flowers turn to the warm beams of the returning sun.
"How often have I had reason to be grateful to you, dear sir?" she said, one morning, as she passed her hand through Mr. Ware's arm, to accompany him in his walk round the garden. It was one of those days, which, in England, so often surprise us in the midst of winter, with their balmy air and spring-like feeling. "And now more than ever," she continued, "for supporting me at this sad season. You can little know how very, very grateful I am for this thoughtful kindness."
"My dear child," returned Mr. Ware, soothingly, "it must be very easy to accept the kindness which you have never forgotten to afford to others."
"Always kind," said Mabel, with a sigh, "how shall I bear to part from you?"
"Or I from you, dear Mabel; often have you secured me from the regrets, which, in a life of such seclusion as we have past here, might have invaded my quiet. You have afforded me that society which I could not otherwise have secured, and willingly would I have kept you still; but I feel that Aston would, at least for the present, be full of too many regrets for you to make me urge it. Besides, our natural relations have a claim upon us, and, with yours, you will probably find a safe and happy home. My Mabel will not forget that these have a claim upon her, and that she may be called to new duties amongst them."
"And new trials," said Mabel, sadly, "I shall meet him."