She felt grateful to him for the cheerful tone in which he spoke, although she saw, by the anxious expression of his eyes, that he participated in her uneasiness on her brother’s account.
“And what are your plans now, Charles?” inquired Mr. Duncan, kindly, laying his hand on his visitor’s shoulder; “have you made up your mind to become a useful member of society, a good and hospitable neighbor, a justice of the peace, or to fill any of the other duties which country gentlemen ought to attend to?”
“I will place myself in your hands, my dear sir,” replied he, with a sudden glow over his countenance, which Hilary did not see; “you shall dictate what my duties are. However, I have indeed made up my mind to renounce my hermit life at ‘the Ferns;’ and, as a preliminary step, have persuaded an aunt and cousin of mine to come over to England and pay me a visit.”
“Indeed! who are they?” inquired Mr. Duncan, with interest.
“Mrs. Fielding was my mother’s sister, and, like her, married an Englishman. Will you do me the great favor of visiting them, Miss Duncan?” turning suddenly to Hilary. “I am
anxious to give them, my cousin especially, a favorable impression of England.”
Hilary replied she would be most happy; a sort of wondering feeling passing through her mind, as to why Mr. Huyton was so desirous to please his cousin. Perhaps he hoped to persuade her to settle for life at ‘the Ferns,’ and then how pleasant it would be to have a friend in his wife; her countenance brightened at the idea; and her manner became more easy and disengaged toward Charles from that moment.
He seemed readily to fall into his old ways, in every respect, except such as she might have objected to, and never thought of leaving them for the rest of the afternoon; taking it as much as a matter of course that he should remain to tea, as the younger girls did.
On their return to the house, while Hilary supported and guided her father’s steps, he loitered behind with her sisters, strolling along the terrace, and laughing and chatting with them, telling Sybil he had found them out by the sound of her voice reading, which fortunately was not so much altered as her person was, or he should have run away, believing them to be a party of strangers. But when Mr. Duncan was safely past the window, by which he entered into his own room, and Hilary had turned away to take the path to the porch, he immediately joined her, and began, in a voice and words of sincerest sympathy, to inquire into the actual state of her father’s sight. She could speak of it calmly at last; use, and the quiet submission and unvarying cheerfulness of Mr. Duncan, had reconciled her to the idea, and she was able to tell him with composure, or rather resignation, that all was quite dark to him now; but that she was thankful to say, that the affliction had been so softened and modified, as to be far less terrible than she had imagined it could be.
Then he alluded to Maurice; but here the chord of feeling vibrated too strongly; the tension had been too acute for it to harmonize entirely with faith and patience; and they sounded