She got up instantly, and went to put on her bonnet, while the mother and sisters remained in the same dead silence, till her return, seeming determined to keep aloof from all their proceedings.
But they were quickly gone, and passing by the busy streets, were soon on their way to the country—where they seemed to breathe freely, and insensibly slackened their pace. How gloriously the sun shone that day, over the green hills and valleys—and what sweet odours did the earth yield back as willing incense. They felt, and enjoyed every thing, even while they seemed to have no thought for any thing but each other.
"I tremble to feel so happy," said Hargrave, at length, speaking almost for the first time, as they lingered by a low stile which interrupted their walk, and turned to gaze around them; "knowing myself to be so unworthy—but I am, really, very, very happy; and at this moment, when I have regained all that impenitence had lost, I feel, indeed, forgiven. I have a hundred things to say, and yet, while we are alone, it seems happiness enough to be silent."
"It has all come so rapidly," said Mabel, "that I feel in some fairy dream. Do tell me how, and why,"—she hesitated.
"How, and why, we are standing here as we are," he replied, with a smile; "but, tell me first, do you not feel as you used, when we wandered on the hills, at Aston. I scarcely think six years have passed as they have done."
"Come, talk seriously, dear Henry," said Mabel, "or my heart will break for very happiness; tell me what has worked this blessed change."
"It is a long and painful story, love," returned Hargrave, "but I will tell it now, and then we shall quite understand each other. Do you remember that dark day on which we parted; when, with all the pride which made my spirit so cruel, I cast you from me, and saw you fall against your mother's knee, as if a look of mine might crush, but could not turn you, because you would not follow my free spirit in the unfettered liberty it had made for itself?
"They tell me, that, after that day, sickness laid you low, but only strengthened the principles for which you had martyred your affections. They tell me, that, in watching her child, your mother grew ill, and that you rose from sickness to be her nurse, and that you managed her affairs, and once more became the light of that loved home; they tell me poverty came, year by year, and that the little which had been saved became the prey, of a rapacious woman. That then came sickness, and trial, and death, in all its gloom—your home destroyed, nothing left but blackened ruins to remind you of the past. I know that you have since been subject to a thousand little vexations, and annoyances; a cold welcome, and a zealous watch. Now, tell me, have you never repented the hour which parted us?"
Mabel looked up timidly.
"Nay, never fear me; I can bear the truth, now."