Fairfax
struck across the woods by that path which led to the mill-stream and the
orchard, where he had parted from Clarissa on that cheerless October night
nearly three years ago. He knew that Mr. Lovel was away, and the cottage
only tenanted by servants, and he had a fancy for looking at the place
where he had been so angry and so miserable--the scene of that one
rejection which had stung him to the very quick, the single humiliation of
his successful career. It was only the morbid fancy of an idle man, who had
an afternoon to dispose of somehow.
Half-way between the Court and the cottage, he heard the jingling of
bells, and presently, flashing and gleaming among the trees, he saw a
gaily-painted carriage drawn by a pair of goats, with plated harness that
shone in the sun. Mixed with the joyous jingle of the bells, there came
the sound of an infant's laughter. It was the baby taking his after-dinner
airing, attended by a couple of nurses. A turn in the path brought George
Fairfax and the heir of Arden face to face.
A sudden impulse seized him--a sudden impulse of tenderness for _her_
child. He took the little bundle of rosy babyhood and lace and muslin in
his arms, and kissed the soft little face as gently as a woman, and looked
into the innocent blue eyes, dilated to an almost impossible extent in a
wondering stare, with unspeakable love and melancholy in his own.
Pages:
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456