An hour passed, which Brownie made bright and cheerful for Lady Ruxley, Lady Randal having sent regrets that she was not able to see visitors that morning. Then the gentlemen all came in together.
Sir Charles appeared very thoughtful, but there was a brighter and more hopeful gleam in his eye than there had been for many a day.
He drew Mrs. Dredmond one side as soon as he could do so without attracting too much notice.
“Thank you,” he said, as he gave back her letters. “They have comforted me greatly, for I had felt, as she says, as if the crowning joy of life was to be denied me forever.”
“And now?” Brownie asked, eagerly.
“What! can you wish her happiness?” he demanded, more in reply to her eager look than her words.
“Ah, yes, poor child, her suffering has been worse than mine. We do not any of us know our own weakness until we have been tempted. You and I might fall even lower than Isabel did under some peculiar temptation, and shall we presume to judge one who trusted in her own weak strength, and who, now sorrowing, has found, if I am not mistaken, a stronger arm to lean upon?”
“What a peacemaker you are, Mrs. Dredmond—you conquer us all. You take a very sweet way to be revenged upon your enemies,” Sir Charles exclaimed, with a suspicious moisture in his fine eyes.
“I do not believe in that element at all,” she replied, gently, “but if I could win Isabel’s love, and see you both happy, I should ask for no greater triumph.”
“What greater triumph could any one have than to make a friend of an enemy?” the young man asked, smiling; then he added, gravely: “I think by another year I may visit the United States—it is always best to let patience have its perfect work, you know; then, if it shall have accomplished its mission, there may be happiness for two more human beings in this world.”