"These were the first words we had spoken, to each other.
"I wanted to tell Alice all the love I felt for her, though I was certain that she was as well acquainted with the fact as I was myself; and of her affection for me I entertained not a doubt, but I wanted to hear her promise to love me and only me, for ever and ever, and to return the blessed assurance given to me, with interest, but my tongue was tied. I could not put my thoughts into language, the very intensity of my passion rendered me dumb.
"We walked home silently together; my mother met us at the door. She too had been weeping, for her eyes were red and heavy.
"The tea was waiting for us on the table, but how could we eat? My mother did not press us, neither did she chide our long absence. She looked at us kindly through her tears.
"'Poor things!' I heard her murmur to herself. 'It is their first grief.'
"At any rate, we had her warm sympathy.
"She had packed my trunks during our absence, and they were in the passage ready corded for the coach; before we were aware of it, the stage rattled up to the door, there was no time left for love pledging now, or heart-breaking farewells.
"One long, fond embrace from that dear mother. One kiss, the last I ever received from my child-love, and we parted, I to embark upon the stormy ocean of life, and Alice to return a sad and lonely creature to her miserable home, and the tender mercies of her harsh grandmother.
"A few weeks after I left S——, one of those strange incidents, which sometimes occur in life, separated us more effectually.
"The Lady Dorothy Fitzmorris, the mother of the present Earl, was then living at the Hall. Her eldest son—for Lord Wilton was not the heir—commanded a regiment in America during the War of Independence. His brother Edward served as captain under him. Both were fine promising young men, they were her only children.