Elizabeth and Harry rode rapidly,
their horses' feet and their merry laughter making a cheery racket
in the lanes. They reached the hall gates in a glow of spirits. Martha
was standing there, her round rosy face all smiles. She said little
to Elizabeth, but she whispered something to Harry, and took him away
with her.
"Martha! Martha!" cried Elizabeth, "you will spoil the boy, and make
him sick. What dainty have you ready for him? Cannot I share it? I
am hungry enough, I can tell you!"
Martha laughed and shook her head, and Elizabeth, after a word to the
groom, went into the parlor. The angels that loved her must have
followed her there. They would desire to see her joy. For there, with
glowing, tender face, stood Richard. She asked no questions. She
spoke no word at all. She went straight to the arms outstretched to
clasp her. She felt his tears, mingling with her own. She heard her
name break softly in two the kisses that said what last the hour for
which she had hoped and prayed so many years.
And Richard could hardly believe in his joy. This splendid Elizabeth
of twenty-eight, in all the glory and radiance of her calmed and
chastened soul, and her perfected womanhood, was infinitely more
charming and lovable than he had ever seen her before. He told
her so in glad and happy words, and Elizabeth listened, proud and
well-contented with his praise.
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