The mother pensively smiled, passed her hand through her daughter’s hair, and then was again lost in thought.
But let us now permit her to speak for herself.
MORE LEAVES.
August 16th.—It is nearly three whole months since I have seen him, and oh! what events since then. Both have been sick nigh unto death; both have received revelations from the angel world, and I shall see him this day, and he said to Ella he would speak with me alone. Ah! the cruel moments lengthen themselves into hours to retard his coming. And if, after all, he should fail. But that is not possible, has he not given his word!
17th.—I have made a violent effort to collect my scattered senses, for I would fain write the occurrences of that night. Though the day appeared as if it would never end, yet, as evening approached, I almost dreaded to meet him. The thought that I had dared to clasp him, living, in my arms—that unasked, unsought, my lips had been pressed to his, made me timid as a young girl. This remembrance, even now, dyes my cheek with crimson. Oh! were he then conscious of all, how could I ever, ever, again lift my eyes to his; how could I ever support his glance of withering scorn. As these reflections passed through my brain, I half arose. “I will retire to my room,” I thought, “and leave Mary and Ella to receive him.” Just then there was a ring, and a well-known step was heard in the antechamber. Philip D’Arcy entered, and in the delirious joy of his presence, I forgot all but that he was here once more—restored to life, to health, to hope, to love. He appeared surprised to find me still an invalid, for as he took my hand and pressed it with that soft, thrilling pressure which may mean friendship, or so much more, he murmured words of sorrow and sympathy, though I scarcely caught their meaning. Then seating himself, as Mary served the tea, he addressed some polite and common-place observations to her and Ella. I could now satisfy the hunger of my soul by dwelling on that noble countenance, the light of which had so long been hidden from my weary eyes.
After long silence, I said suddenly,
“Pray, Mr. D’Arcy, tell me how did you manage to catch that fever?”
The formality of this address sounded strangely even to my own ears, and almost as if another had spoken.
Philip smiled his old smile, and replied that he would prefer this should remain a secret. Perceiving a somewhat mocking expression on Mary’s lips, I exclaimed with petulance,