If I had had a pleasant life before, it was still more pleasant now; for we were able to drive out together, or to sit with our work on a seat on the lawn whenever the weather was warm enough.
I shall never forget that spring. Everything looked so lovely in that beautiful park. The long avenue with its budding trees; the soft, fresh green of the grass; the woods yellow with primroses, and the birds singing their happy songs in the trees; everything seemed full of life and of joy.
Evelyn was like a bird which has been long shut up in a cage and has suddenly regained its liberty. Her merry laugh was to be heard almost all day long, and her light step, as she went about the house again, showed that she was fast recovering her health and strength.
Yet one thought troubled me. Could it be that the opportunity was gone—that I should never now be able to lead her to think seriously about her soul and about eternity? I had tried so very often since my visit to Branston to begin to talk to her about these things, but the attempt had always ended in failure; and though I prayed most earnestly that God would make a way for me, and give me the opportunity for which I was now eagerly watching, yet no way seemed to be opened, no opportunity seemed to be given. And now Evelyn was getting well, and what chance was there that she would be led to think seriously when all around her was so bright and pleasant? Still I prayed on.
I had found out a few poor people in the neighbourhood of Alliston Hall, amongst whom I was able to do a little work for the Master. There were one or two old people who were glad for me to read to them; and there was a girl, dying in consumption, who was always pleased to see me. Thus, whenever I managed to get an afternoon for myself, when Evelyn was engaged with visitors, or was driving out with her father, I went across the park to visit these poor people, and always came back feeling refreshed in mind and body.
One afternoon I had been out rather longer than usual. I had left Evelyn busy with her letters, and, as it was now past post-time, I was afraid she would be wanting me, and would think that I had been a long time away. So, as soon as I had dressed for dinner, I hurried down to Evelyn's room.
As I came up to the door I heard a voice inside, and when I went in, I found to my astonishment, that a young man was there. He was sitting on a footstool in front of the fire, stroking Evelyn's little dog, and was apparently quite at his ease. He was a very handsome man, tall and well-built, with fine features and large dark eyes.
Who could he be? Where had he come from? I had not heard that any visitors were expected that day, and I was utterly at a loss to account for his sudden appearance.
He jumped up when I came into the room, and threw himself into the arm-chair by the fire.
"This is Cousin Donald, May," said Evelyn as I came up to her; "do you think papa will be very angry with him for coming?"