Sir Henry Delmé was aroused by the sound of voices. A loving couple, too much engaged to observe him, passed close to the summer-house.
It was the "Queen of the May," the prettiest and one of the poorest girls in the parish, walking arm in arm with her rural swain. They had left the "roasted beeves," and the "broached casks," for one half-hour's delicious converse.
There was some little coquettish resistance on the part of the girl, as they sat down together at the foot of a fir tree.
Her lover put his arm round her waist.
"Oh! Mary! if father would but give us a cow or so!"
This little incident decided the matter. Delmé at once resolved that Mary Smith should have a cow or so; and also that his own health would be greatly benefited, by a short sojourn at Leamington.
Chapter XV.
The Meeting
"Oh ever loving, lovely, and beloved!
How selfish sorrow ponders on the past,
And clings to thoughts now better far removed,
But Time shall tear thy shadow from me last."
We know not whether our readers have followed us with due attention, as we have incidentally, and at various intervals, made our brief allusion to the gradual change of character, wrought on Delmé, by the eventful scenes in which he so lately played a prominent part.