A dark figure filled up the low place in the hedge.
"Carnation, I had something to tell you!"
"Is it bad news? I cannot bear it, if it is."
"No, the best of news! I am not going at Whitsunday to Australia. My mother told me last night that she is to be married at the New Year. He is a rich man—Harry Foster's father. She is going to live at Carnsalloch."
"Well?" said Carnation, doubtfully, not seeing all that this sudden change meant to them both.
"Why, then, dearest," the voice of John Charles Morrison shook with emotion, "we can be married as soon as we like after that. The farm and everything on it is ours—yours and mine!"
Carnation's brain reeled, and she found herself without a word to say. Only the sound of the happy singing ran in her head:
"Joy cometh in the morning—joy cometh in the morning!"
"Why don't you speak, Carnation? Are you not glad?"
The voice down at the gap was anxious now.