CHAPTER XXVIII.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume IV, Issue 196, 29 December 1876, Page 6

CHAPTER XXVIII.

m« i , , EASTWABD, HO ! n ™%Tf ?e? e 4 . 1101 ; forgotten his promise, Dr. Hartland had not conndea to Bosjue his plans for her, lest ttere should t>e somti

failure. Her grandfather, by the loss of his second wife, -was left with only the companionship and comfort of the little blind boy who had been committed to him as a precious loan; and the Doctor designed, if it were possible, to bring back Mrs. Benton and her exiled husband to the home of her youth, for the sake of Rosine, who could then spend a part of each year in her two homes ; as to permitting -her to join them in Inglewood, he had not for. a moment harbored the idea. This removal was a pet plan and proposal of Ned's, and he had even gone so far as to sound MiV"»awthorne himself as the feasibility of the plan, when he had gone to Hawthorndean with Rosine to attend the funeral of the wife. It was a mere suggestion on his part; the old gentleman had received it at first as an impossibility ; neither he nor Philip Benton could endure a meeting, much less each other's constant presence ; but Dr. Hartland saw that the thought was fixed, and the delight of the grandfather over Rosine' b presence, gave him great hope. After his return to the city he made known the proposition to his father, with strict injunctions of secrecy, lest false hopes might be raised in his daughter's mind. The Colonel was, of course, highly delighted ; he had been suffering since his son had told him that Rosine was yearning for her parents, and any suggestion that preven u ed a separation from her he hailed with joy, and proposed at once to write to his friend Benton, well knowing that coining from him it would have more influence than from any other source. The letter was written after an interview' with Mrs. Benton's father, in which the Colonel descanted at large on the great change there was in his friend Philip, the entire disappearance of the hauteur and pride that had marked his early days. Mr. Hawthorne was moved by the Colonel's arguments; the prospect of his dear daughter's presence by his lonely hearthstone enabled him, after a little struggle to say to the Colonel that he would receive them both with a hearty welcome. Equipped with this invitation, Colonel Hartland felt as if he was invincible, and forthwith the following letter was dispatched from Hawthorndean, addressed to Mrs. Benton. " Hawthobkdba.n, October, 18 — . My Dear Lucy : " I am in your old home, and I write to' you at this time, instead of Philip, for I am reminded more forcibly of you than of him in this fine old country mansion. Ned gave me so bad an account of your father's loneliness, that I ran up to see what I could do for him. I found him much prostrated with grief »and very lonely, and I am authorised from, him to give to you and Philip a hearty welcome back to 'your old home; he will receive you both with open arms and a father's blessing. Tell Philip for me, that I know all he will say, but nothing, ought to prevent the restoration of his wife to her father, and the sooner it is accomplished the better ; it would give you back "Willie, and bring you near our beloved Rosine, who has won all our hearts, and grows more lovely each day. "Let Philip consider it well. I know there will be trials in this step ; will there not be also counter-balancing pleasures ? not the least of which I flatter niyself is the occasional glimpse you will get of your old tried friend, AfcEX. HabTLAND." It is perhaps unnecessary to.sa-y, that Mrs. Benton's heart throbbed violently when she read this letter, awaking once more to a hope that had well nigh died out of her patient soul. Her husband noticed the superscription, and said, with a qaiet smile of satisfaction, " Ah, Lucy, the Colonel finds me but a poor correspondent, and turns to you." Often in the solitude of her own room she had shed many tears for her dear parent, left in his advanced age without child or companion ; now there no tears, but the letter frightened her by the excess of joy that leapt up from her heart, as she thought of going back to the dear old home. She did not give the letter to Mr. Benton until she saw an anxious look gathering on his face ; he had observed by the variations of her countenance that it contained intelligence of importance, and as she looked at him without speaking, still holding the letter, he put out his hand, and took it. She watched the shadows gather on his brow as he read, and settle into a decided frown as he folded the letter, and went out of her presence without a word. She felt that her hope must give way to disappointment — that what she wished could never be — and with one struggle she gave up the wish, determined that her lifeyshould still be one continual sacrifice. Weeks passed, and the sub3ectwas not named between them ; indeed, her husband seemed to withdraw himself from her, as if she had been in some way a party to his dishonor. At length when the time grew long, and the letter remained unanswered ; when she had made up her mind to say to the Colonel that, pleasant and dear as the proposition was to her heart, it was impossible — that day he came to her in the quiet autumn twilight. She knew from whence he came when sho saw him ride into the yard ; it was the eve of All-Saints, and he had been to the new grave of his little Jeannie in consecrated ground, and to the study of his pastor. " Lucy," he said, as he entered the li ttle inner-room which was her sanctum, " I have come to tell you — we will go." The voice, the manner, everything, was so strange that Mrs. Benton arose hastily, and went to him. " Yes, I aui ready to go," he added, allowing her to lead him to a seat; "the agony of bringing my proud heart to be willing is over, and — ." "But, Philip, my dear husband, why should you put such force upon yourself ? " her voice trembled with the effort to speak without emotion. "We are not obliged to go : we have a pleasant happy home here, you and I—." She hesitated, she could not advance with truth ; her heart did lon* for her father and children.