She could only see the top of his dark head. It might
have been on the terrace at Shenstone, three years before. She
longed to call from the window; "Darling--my Darling! Good morning!
God bless you to-day."
Ah what would to-day bring forth;--the day when her full confession,
and explanation, and plea for pardon, would reach him? He was such a
boy in many ways; so light-hearted, loving, artistic, poetic,
irrepressible; ever young, in spite of his great affliction. But
where his manhood was concerned; his love; his right of choice and
of decision; of maintaining a fairly-formed opinion, and setting
aside the less competent judgment of others; she knew him rigid,
inflexible. His very pain seemed to cool him, from the molten lover,
to the bar of steel.
As Jane knelt at her window that morning, she had not the least idea
whether the evening would find her travelling to Aberdeen, to take
the night mail south; or at home forever in the heaven of Garth's
love.
And down below he passed again, still singing:
"But mine it is to follow in her train;
Do her behests in pleasure or in pain;
Burn at her altar love's sweet frankincense,
And worship her in distant reverence.
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