“And yet he has visited you for a long time both regularly and frequently,” said Horton, whilst his eyes began to sparkle, and the cloud that had for months overspread his fine countenance was rapidly dispersing.
“He has come to the house both regularly and frequently, it is true, but never with my consent. Brother Henry, I scarcely know why, has undertaken to espouse his cause, and to bring him here. Though exceedingly annoyed at the circumstance, I could not bear to complain of it to papa, for fear of agitating him, and therefore satisfied myself with taking good care that my own sentiments were clearly understood.”
“Lucy,” said Horton, taking her hand tenderly, whilst a soul full of happiness and affection beamed in his eyes, “as long as I believed your heart to be disengaged, I used to flatter myself with the hope of one day making it mine; and now that I find it is still at liberty, the same fond hope is again swelling in my bosom and urging me to renew my endeavors. Say, dearest Lucy, would the effort be altogether a hopeless one?”
We cannot pretend to say what was Lucy’s reply, but we know the hand he had taken still remained in his possession, when an hour or two had elapsed and they began to think about the passage of time. Never once during that period had the thought of old Hinckley and his inveterate persecution entered their heads; or if for a moment the circumstance of having but little to commence life with obtruded itself on their recollection, it was met without fear or apprehension. They were both young, vigorous and active, and though they might have to work a little harder, their toil would be sweetened by the delightful idea that they mutually labored for each other.
“It will still be a hard struggle for my poor mother,” said Horton, after his full heart had so far found vent as to enable him to turn his thoughts once more on his sorrowing parent; “but she loves us both too well to grieve long when she sees us so happy.”
“And though,” said Lucy, “she will have to live in a much smaller house, and to exchange her large and beautiful garden for a very circumscribed one, she will still have the rich garden of nature to look at; and beside, she will have another child to watch over her, and administer to her comfort.”
The day of sale arrived, and it having been proposed by Lucy that Norman should bring his mother to spend that day with her, that she might be out of the way of the noise and bustle with which the house would necessarily be surrounded. The old lady came at an early hour, and Lucy exerted her every art to amuse her, and divert her mind from what was going on at home. As she was still a great invalid, she was obliged to recline almost constantly on the sofa, but she proved how much her thoughts clung to the home that was about to be so cruelly taken away from her, by the frequent questions she asked.
“Are the people beginning to gather yet, Lucy?” she asked, as she observed Lucy’s face turned toward the window which commanded a view of the place.
“Every thing seems very quiet yet,” returned her affectionate attendant.
“I see two, three, nine, seven wagons,” said Lucy’s little sister.