CHAPTER XII. Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love : Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues; And trust no agent." "FAR, far off, we shall be, dear Blanch," said Grace, pressing her companion to her breast, and printing a long kiss of affection upon her lips. "Not a glance, taunting or reproachful, will meet us in the land of strangers, and we shall live-yes, we shall live," continued she, clasping her hands, and casting her eyes upwards, "we shall live for each other-forgetful of the past, and without trembling for the future." แ May heaven grant a fulfilment of your hopes!" replied Blanch, "and there seems to be every reason for the probability of their being realized." 66 Yes," rejoined Grace, "I feel no fearno shade of fear, in meeting with their disappointment. All the lowering clouds," she continued, with a face mantled with joy, 66 are passed, and we have now to think and speak of nothing but the bright and sunny future." "Edward will, I am sure, be all your most sanguine wishes can desire," returned Blanch. Repeat those words," added the overjoyed Grace, "I could listen to them untired for an age." Blanch, scarcely less excited with the revulsion of feeling, twined her arms round her companion's slender form, and pressed her to her bosom. "What pleasure, what delight!" exclaimed Grace, "to lure him from all rough, rugged thoughts, and to direct his mind-by nature formed to be so noble-to the pursuits of" "One worthy to be your husband," interrupted Blanch, smiling. "And the task," continued she, "will be met with a reward worthy of its labour." "It shall at least never flag in the design," said Grace; "and when we meet again, dearest, I trust to hear the confirmation of its success." "Ah!" sighed Blanch, bitter drop in my cup of joy. "that is the Our separation must be long, and it may be for ever." "No, no, no," replied Grace, hurriedly. "Do not say-do not think so." "The arrangement is," rejoined Blanch, sadly, "that you are to remain away for at least three years." "But they will quickly pass." "Yes," returned Blanch, "three years quickly pass; but what changes may take place in that brief time." 66 None, at least, can in our affection for each other," added Grace. "And with that thought," said Blanch, "we will turn from the only cause of grief remaining deep grief to me, dear Grace." "And no less so to me," replied her companion, warmly. "But, as you say, let us not think of parting to-night." A summons was now sent by aunt Deborah, desiring their immediate presence. "We have kept our friends waiting, I fear," observed Blanch. "But a few minutes only," replied Grace. "I heard the clock strike not a quarter of an hour since." Upon entering the dining room they found aunt Deborah surrounded by the vicar, the squire, Charles Merton, the king of the gipsies, and (he may now be called, although slightly anticipating the right soon afterwards obtained) Edward Sinclair. The old lady held a hand of his in the united clasp of hers, and was offering him some sage advice upon his future conduct. "And in conclusion," said aunt Deborah "for I must come to an end at some time or other, although I feel just now that I could talk for ever let me impress upon your mind, my dear young man, the importance of listening with patience to, and following with strict observance, the directions of your excellent and capable wife." "I will, madam," replied he. "Take those chairs, my dears," said the squire, pointing to a couple placed by himself in convenient positions for all parties present. "Charles, my dear boy," continued his father, untying a bundle of papers tied with red tape, and bearing an extremely legal complexion, "if you cannot refrain from monopolizing Blanch's attention for a few minutes, I shall be under the painful necessity of requesting you to change seats with the vicar." |