Hilary did not see any of them again before they left; but when she was certain that event had taken place, she felt an unspeakable relief come over her, which made her troubles seem easier to bear.
She was able now to leave her room, and stroll about the garden, wander on the green, or rest on her favorite seat by the chancel-window, without fear of meeting any one whom she would rather avoid. The calm summer air under the shady trees always did her good; and an afternoon spent in solitary reflection, or in quiet, half-cheerful, half-grave chat with her father, was a mental tonic which never lost its power.
The liveliness of the family party depended on the younger ones; they were untamed by sorrow yet, and soon recovered parting from Maurice. To their view, life was like the beautiful vistas in their own wild forest, across which the sloping sunbeams played between the shady trees, turning all they touched to gold.
CHAPTER XIV.
“You ‘never loved me!’—No, you never knew—
You with youth’s dews yet glittering on your soul—
What ’tis to love. Slow, drop by drop, to pour
Our life’s whole essence perfumed through and through,
With all the best we have, or can control,
For the libation! cast it down before