As soon as possible, after sending it off, she was folded in the arms of that excellent woman, who flew to greet the travellers, accompanied by her husband, whose salutations were fully as sincere, if not quite so rapturous, as those of his partner.
The joy of this meeting was enhanced to Mrs. Gordon by the uneasiness which she had felt since a few lines from Lady Marchdale had mentioned Zorilda's departure, and made rather a haughty demand, whether she had not directed her flight towards Aberdeenshire. Mrs. Gordon had answered her sister's letter; and in much earnestness had begged for farther particulars of an event so unaccountable; but Lady Marchdale was too selfishly absorbed by her own cares to think of distant friends, and not a line from Henbury, though repeatedly solicited, had thrown light upon any thing which was passing there. Both Mr. and Mrs. Gordon had seen the newspaper paragraph to which allusion was made at De Lacy castle; but as they were only slightly acquainted with their nephew's associates, and knew still less of his habits of life, it so happened that they were never struck with any application of the direful circumstances which were related in the public prints; and even had suspicion attached to the story, the silence of the family at Henbury would have completely banished it.
A few short hours put the friends mutually in possession of all that either had to unfold. Zorilda's history made the liveliest impression on the kind hearts to which it was revealed; and was followed by a solemn proffer of the most affectionate adoption.
"Let me henceforward be the fond, though imperfect, representative of that mother whom you have lost, while I shall find in my beloved Zoé such a daughter as I have often vainly longed to press to my bosom," said Mrs. Gordon. Zorilda's heart was too full for the lips to speak, but she looked all that a sinking spirit could express.
Though dreading pursuit, Zorilda had cherished a secret hope, that on reaching Scotland she might hear of Henbury; and learn what effects had been produced there by her sudden disappearance. This hope had greater influence in supporting her exertions than she was aware of, till disappointment crushed every energy of her soul. She had reached the goal—she had arrived at that haven of rest which had long been the end and aim of her desires, and now experienced the inefficacy of external things to restore peace to the lacerated heart. Nothing which the tenderest feeling could suggest was left undone, yet Zorilda drooped in spite of every effort to repay the kindness of those around her, by answering endeavours on her part.
Drumcairn was the very sum and centre of domestic bliss, and presented a scene of happiness and concord, which seemed to realize the beautiful vision of an earthly Elysium. The landscape without was wildly picturesque; and within, whatever was best, wisest, and most tasteful, lent its aid to diversify the social resources. How blessed could Zorilda have felt in such a home; and what a gem would she have added to its attractions were not the secret poison carrying on its latent destruction, and gradually undermining health and strength!
When the first agitation of meeting was over, Mrs. Gordon invited her young friend to assist her in the charitable labours which employed much of her time. Zorilda learned, in these pious exercises, that numbers of her fellow creatures were as miserable as herself. She soon discovered that she was not the only houseless orphan; but that thousands wept the bereavement of parents, lovers, friends. Her mind at last began to taste a heavenly pleasure in her new occupations. To pour the balm of comfort into the wounded spirit; to teach the young to live, the sick and old to die, became her principal delight; and her days were chiefly dedicated to those duties of active goodness, in which the selfishness of sorrow gradually gives way to that peace which is ever sure to spring from the pure source of practical religion. She would often start from the recollections of past time, and rush to employment from the stings of memory.
Sometimes it grieved her that no word of soothing friendship found its way to her from De Lacy castle. A letter from Clara, to say that her affection had not suffered diminution from acquaintance with the events which she confided to her knowledge would have been a consolation; but Zorilda was making rapid progress in the belief that there is no trial of life which is not sent for some purpose of mercy, and her beloved guide and instructress never failed to improve every opportunity of tracing divine goodness in the bitterest dispensations.