"My dear Gilmour, do not say a word; I never was more glad to be aroused from sleep in my life. I was actually dreaming a most unpleasant dream, and I wake to see the man of all others whom I most wished for standing before me. It is absurd for a man at my time of life to be eating at irregular hours in refreshment tents and going in for floral exhibitions; no wonder I had evil dreams. Of course, you have heard what is going on? promised to go back to the Park after a rest, and you shall go with me. I quite reckon on making you acquainted with Mitchelson, who also looks forward to knowing you. We will drive to the gates, and then you shall give me your strong arm to lean on, and tell me what you have been doing with yourself since you left us."
Nothing loth, Mr. Gilmour accompanied his old friend and—shall it be said? All the more willingly because, by so doing, he would sooner see again the sweet face towards which his mind's eye had been turning longingly ever since he parted from it at the gate.
Elsie was one of the first they met—Elsie and Mr. Mitchelson together. By one of those chances, if we may call them such, that sometimes alter destinies, the giver of the festival was in the act of escorting her to see the contents of a tent which had escaped her notice, and in which were to be found a choice collection of prize cabbages, etc., from cottage gardens.
She had been inquiring for these, knowing well that at her next visits to certain of her village friends, she would be catechized by them as to the said cabbages, and expected to speak critically as to their merits. Her bright face was beaming with enjoyment, and Mr. Mitchelson was listening with evident amusement, when Elsie, lifting her eyes, saw before her Douglass Gilmour.
What a pity it was that the eyes were so quickly dropped! If she had only met those which were seeking hers, and read in them the gladness which their owner felt at this speedy realization of his hopes, surely doubts must have been scattered to the winds, Mrs. Manning's little talk would have gone after them, as if it had never taken place, and Elsie's own heart searchings would have awakened only a smile at the mistake she had made in ever cherishing a doubt.
But she did not see the look which no true heart could have mistaken, and so, when Douglass, brimming over with pleasure, took her hand, Elsie's manner was shy and constrained, and the poor little commonplaces she uttered were so unlike the old manner that Douglass shrank within himself and became constrained in turn. He did not join her and her companion, though invited to do so by Mr. Mitchelson, for there was no seconding glance from Elsie, no lifting of the fringed eyelids, or a look from under them which said, "Come, and I, too, shall be glad."
So he seated himself by Uncle Edward, saying that he was rather tired with his journey, but would visit the tents by degrees, and talk over the respective merits of the exhibits with his old Rathbury friends a little later on.
Then the rector appeared on the scene, and after cordial greetings to his young lieutenant, he took off Uncle Edward; and then the malignant Fates approached Mr. Gilmour, represented by Miss Chatterton.
"So you are back again," she said, "and before the appointed time. What little bird of the air carried a message over the seas which hastened your coming?"
"Are you sorry to see me, Miss Chatterton? If so, I shall feel bound to go away again; I am sadly disappointed, for I quite expected a welcome and a little pat for having come back to my work somewhat earlier than was needful."