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Page 39
Sensible of a pressing emergency. Miss Heywood, with a
beating heart, regained the cottage, in which so many
blissful hours had been passed within the last two years,
undisturbed by a care for the future, while the young
officer joining his men, left one to take care of the
arms of the party, and with the remainder hastened to
the house making as little noise as possible, in order
not to disturb the invalid. Having chosen such articles
of furniture as he knew Mrs. Elmsley was most deficient
in, and among these a couch and a couple of easy-chairs
(which latter indeed were the work of his own hands),
they were conveyed to the scow in two trips, and then
followed three or four trunks into which had been thrown,
without regard to order, such wearing apparel, and
necessaries of the toilet as the short period allowed
for preparation had permitted the agitated girl to put
together. The most delicate part of the burden, however,
yet remained to be removed, and that was the invalid
herself. Desiring his men to remain without, the youth,
whose long and close intimacy with the family rendered
such a step by no means objectionable, entered the
apartment of Mrs. Heywood, who had already been prepared
by her daughter for the removal, and with the assistance
of Catherine raised the bed on which she lay, and
transferred it to a litter brought for the occasion. This
they carefully bore through the suite of small and
intervening rooms to the front, where two of the men
relieved them, Catherine walking at the side, and
unnecessarily enjoining caution at every step.
"This is, indeed, an unexpected change, Ronayne," said
Miss Heywood, sadly, "but this morning, and I was so
happy, and now! These poor flowers, too (for after having
fastened the windows and doors of the house, they were
now directing their course towards the mound), that
parterre which cost us so much labor, yes, such sweet
labor, must all be left to be destroyed by the hand of
some ruthless savage. Yet, what do I say," she pursued,
in a tone of deep sorrow, "I lament the flowers; yes,
Ronayne, because they have thriven under your care, and
yet, I forget that my father perhaps no longer lives;
that my beloved mother's death may be the early consequence
of this removal. Yet think me not selfish. Think me not
ungrateful. Come what may, you will yet be left to me.
No, Harry," and she looked up to him tearfully, "I shall
never be utterly destitute, while you remain."
"Bless you, thrice bless you for these sweet avowals of
your confidence," exclaimed the youth, suddenly dropping
her arm, and straining her passionately to his heart.
"Yes, Maria, I shall yet remain to love, to cherish, to
make you forget every other tie in that of husband--to
blend every relationship in that of one."
"Nay, Ronayne," she quickly returned, while the color
mounted vividly to her cheek, under the earnest ardor of
his gaze, "I would not now unsay what I have said, and
yet I did not intend that my words should exactly bear
that interpretation--nor is this a moment--"
"But still you will be my wife--tell me, Maria?" and he
looked imploringly into her own not averted eyes. "You
will be the wife, as you have long been the friend and
companion of your Ronayne--answer me. Will you not?"
Her head sank upon his shoulder, and the heaving of her
bosom, as she gently returned his embrace, alone conveyed
the assurance he desired. She was deeply affected. She
knew the ardent, generous nature of her lover, and she
felt that every word that had just fallen from his lips,
tended only to unravel the true emotions of his heart:
but soothing as was his impassioned language, she deemed
it almost criminal, at such a moment, to listen to it.
"Nay, dearest Harry," she said, gently disengaging herself
from his embrace, "we will be seen. They may wonder at
our delay, and send somebody back from the scow. Let us
proceed."
"You are right," replied the young officer, again passing
her arm through his own, while they continued their route,
"excess of happiness must not cause me to commit an
imprudence so great, as that of suffering another to
divine the extent. Yet one word more, dear Maria! and
ah! think how much depends upon your answer. WHEN shall
I call you mine?"
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