in England and abroad, then about Maurice; and of him he spoke so kindly and cordially, that Hilary took courage to say what she had before been longing to express, their extreme and heartfelt gratitude for his kindness and attention to their brother during his perilous illness. Captain Hepburn would gladly at first have stopped her thanks; but she would not be stopped, and the earnest eloquence, the trembling tones of deep feeling, the glowing, grateful expressions, were of a nature to touch the heart of even a cold or selfish man, and on him, who was neither, produced a powerful effect. He looked at her eyes glittering with tears, at the color varying in her cheeks, at the lips trembling with emotion, and he thought he had never in his life seen so interesting a picture of affection and sensibility.
“You think a great deal too much of what I did, Miss Duncan,” said he, when she paused; “I only wish I deserved your thanks. Maurice is as fine a fellow as ever lived, and one could not do too much for him; and now I see what his home is, and whose hearts and happiness were wrapped up in his welfare, I am doubly happy to have been of any use. There is no need of repaying me with thanks, it is more compensation than I deserve.”
“We can not think so,” replied Hilary, raising her eyes to his face.
“To see your brother with your father is perfectly beautiful,” continued Captain Hepburn, well knowing how to return the pleasure which Hilary’s thanks had given him.
“Oh, yes!” cried she, artlessly, “is it not? we are so happy when he is at home.”
They walked on in silence for some time, and when he spoke again, it was to make some remark on the advancing spring.
From that time all remains of shyness had vanished from Hilary’s manner to their guest, and she became as perfectly at her ease with him as with Maurice himself. The first week of his visit was a very quiet one; their visitors, except the Paines, had deserted them; Mr. Huyton had gone to London, and was not to return until the fourteenth, and Victoria and her mother
had other engagements, which occupied them during the same time. This week of repose was very welcome to Hilary, it was a relief after the unusual bustle and occupation which had preceded it; she was able to resume her old domestic habits, and although the party in prospect must sometimes claim a thought, she was not obliged to give up all her leisure moments to its concerns.
She read, and worked, and walked as in old time, with one important exception, that she had a companion such as she had never had before. There is an affinity between some minds, which is inexplicable and incomprehensible to those who have it not. That week had not been passed away, before Hilary had learned to look with interest, and something more indefinable still, for the opinions of Captain Hepburn, as she gave her own; a glance told her how well she was understood, even before the words of agreement came, and then she felt she was right. She learned more, too; she saw how those dark eyes would fix themselves on her with an expression which sent a strange thrill of pleasure through her heart, even when it brought a bright color to her cheeks; she discovered how often when his head was bent over his book, his glance was following her as she moved about the room, and she was neither annoyed nor frightened at the discovery. It was so pleasant to find that this cultivated and intelligent man, as brave as he was good, and as clever as he was kind, could take such interest in her thoughts, her ways, her wishes. She looked up to him as something so immeasurably her superior, that his approbation seemed an honor; she felt she could trust him; that he would be one who would sacrifice all to right, and that no selfish consideration would induce him to forget her interests, or to endeavor to influence her to a questionable act.
There was some strange spell on her surely, which made her confide to him so many of her fancies and feelings; thoughts which were hard to put into words, but which he understood intuitively, or from a hint, a few hesitating sentences, or even an unfinished phrase. And then when he talked, it was so delightful