It was hard to believe; and yet, what could she think? He had deserted her! Perhaps he had met with another more to his taste, and more suited to him in position and fortune—one whose family history could be clearly set forth, and over whose heads no dark mystery hung. It was natural, she thought, that on reflection he should shrink from uniting himself with one whose family were so obscure and in many respects objectionable.
Many days did this poor girl sit brooding over her sad fate. She would release him from his engagement with her; it was right, she thought, considering all things, that she should do so, and she determined in her mind she would do so. She would like to see him once more, however, just to tell him this. When she had made up her mind to this step, she felt more tranquil and resigned to her fate, and she now began to walk out as usual, and wander over the rocks—perhaps with the dim hope that she might one day fall in with Frederick in the course of her rambles, as she had done before, when she could tell him her determination. Poor girl! she knew not her own weakness; for had he, whose image she had so fondly cherished from her childhood, appeared before her at that time, her fancied courage would have forsaken her, and she would have taken him back to her heart and forgiven him, even did she know beyond a doubt that he had deserted her for another.
Alas! she little knew how impossible it was for him to appear before her then, as she secretly hoped and wished he would; nor did she know, poor girl, how near he had been to her when she was under Cooper's roof. Conflicting thoughts occupied her mind for several days. It was a hard struggle; but she conquered her feelings, and the trial did not appear to her so painful, now that she had fully made up her mind that it was her duty to put an end to the engagement on account of this dark mystery which hung over her family history. She felt that in doing this she was acting honourably towards him whom she could not help loving still with all the ardour of a first love. This she thought she could bear better than the belief that he had deserted her;—she could not bear that, nor would she think so again. She felt that it was her own act now, as she had made up her mind that it should be so—not out of any angry feeling which she bore towards Frederick, but out of pure love for him, and a reluctance to place him in a position which might hereafter cause him pain, and, when the first ardour of love was over, make him ashamed of his wife's relatives.
When she had fully made up her mind to this, she felt more at ease, and would sit for hours on the rocks, in calm reflection on the past, and hopeful meditation on the future. And thus she would pass whole days without moving from the spot, watching the broad clear sea, and the vessels passing and repassing, and the graceful gambols of the sea-birds, as they flew from rock to rock, or took their flight far out to sea—never heeding the meal-time hour, nor seeming to want food or sustenance until her return, when her faithful attendant would upbraid her for staying so long without food, and force her to eat some little nice thing she had prepared during her young mistress's absence, with which to tempt her appetite.
In the meantime, her father continued to be occupied in his private room all day long, looking over papers, and examining the contents of that large chest.
One morning, while he was so engaged, there came two tall men to the outer gate of the little garden, who seemed impatient to enter; but not knowing the secret spring by which the gate was opened, they shook the gate in their impatience, and called loudly to the inmates (if there were any) to open and let them in.
Mr. Freeman's private room overlooked the little garden; and on going to the window to ascertain the cause of all this noise, he started back like a man shot, and trembled all over like an aspen leaf. Alice Ann was surprised too when she recognized one of the visitors, but hers was evidently a feeling of pleasure; for there stood her old lover Josiah, accompanied by a tall handsome gentleman, with remarkably white hair for a man of his age, as he did not look above forty.
"Dash the old gate," said Josiah, shaking it to and fro; "you're buried up brave, I think."
"Iss fie," replied Alice Ann, opening the gate; "we do knaw who to keep out and who to lev in."
"Where's 'The Maister'?" asked Josiah, as they entered the little garden.