"This was part of the parade by which I was to win him," thought she with bitterness; and scarcely conscious of what she did, she crushed them together, and threw them into the fire. Then hastily advancing to Mrs. Lennox, she tried to bid her farewell; but as she thought it was for the last time, tears of tenderness as well as pride stood in her eyes.
"God bless you, my dear child!" said the unsuspecting Mrs. Lennox, as she held her: in her arms. "And God will bless you in His way—though His ways are not as our ways. I cannot urge you to return to this dreary abode. But oh, Mary! Think sometimes in your gaiety, that when you do come, you bring gladness to a mournful heart, and lighten eyes that never see the sun!"
Mary, too much affected to reply, could only wring the hand of her venerable friend, as she tore herself from her embrace, and followed Lady Emily to the carriage. For some time they proceeded in silence. Mary dreaded to encounter her cousin's eyes, which she was aware were fixed upon her with more than their usual scrutiny. She therefore kept hers steadily employed in surveying the well-known objects the road presented. At length her Ladyship began in a grave tone.
"You appear to have had very stormy weather at Rose Hall?"
"Very much so," replied Mary, without knowing very well what she said.
"And we have had nothing but calms and sunshine at Beech Park. Is not that strange?"
"Very singular indeed."
"I left the barometer very high—not quite at settled calm—that would be too much; but I find it very low indeed—absolutely below nothing."
Mary now did look up in some surprise; but she hastily withdrew from the intolerable expression of her cousin's eyes.
"Dear Lady Emily!" cried she in a deprecating tone.