Chapter 10

"When we have hoped and sought and striven and lost our aim,
then the truth fronts us, beaming out of the darkness."

"Speaking of things remembered, and so sit
Speechless while things forgotten call to us."

"We, who say as we go,
'Strange to think by the way,
Whatever there is to know,
That we shall know one day.'"

"I would tell her every thing."

It was the rector who spoke. He and Richard were sitting before the
study fire; they had been talking long and seriously, and the rector's
eyes were dim and troubled. "Yes, I would tell her every thing." Then
he put his pipe down, and began to walk about the floor, murmuring
at intervals, "Poor fellow! poor fellow! God is merciful."

In accord with this advice Richard went to see Elizabeth. It was a
painful story he had to tell, and he was half inclined to hide all
but the unavoidable in his own heart; but he could not doubt the wisdom
which counseled him "to tell all, and tell it as soon as possible."
The opportunity occurred immediately. He found Elizabeth mending, with
skillful fingers, some fine old lace, which she was going to make into
ruffles for Harry's neck and wrists. It was a stormy morning, and the
boy had not been permitted to go to the village, but he sat beside
her, reading aloud that delight of boyhood, "Robinson Crusoe."

Elizabeth had never removed her mourning, but her fair hair and white
linen collar and cuffs made an exquisite contrast to the soft somber
folds of her dress; while Harry was just a bit of brilliant color, from
the tawny gold of his long curls to the rich lights of his crimson
velvet suit, with its white lace and snowy hose, and low shoes tied
with crimson ribbons.

He was a trifle jealous of Richard's interference between himself and
his aunt, but far too gentlemanly a little fellow to show it; and quite
shrewd enough to understand, that if he went to Martha for an hour
or two, he would not be much missed. They both followed him with
admiring eyes as he left the room; and when he stood a moment in the
open door and touched his brow with his hand, as a parting courtesy,
neither could help an expression of satisfaction.

"What a handsome lad!" said Richard.

"He is. If he live to take his father's or my place here, he will be
a noble squire of Hallam."

"Then he is to be your successor?"

"Failing Anthony."

"Then, Elizabeth dear, he is squire of Hallam already, for Anthony
is dead."

"Dead! Without a word! Without sign of any kind--O, Richard, is it
really--death?"

Richard bowed his head, and Elizabeth sat