Adoptees -- Fiction; Fathers and daughters -- Fiction
The child was enchanted; and they wandered on through the glades, among
the fern, into a shady dell, quite at the other side of the park, and
sat down beneath a spreading oak-tree. By this time they had got into a
serious talk of where the clouds were going, and where the first tree
came from, when a gentleman, who had entered the park gates unperceived,
rode by, and pulling up his horse suddenly, with a start, and an
exclamation of surprise, he and Elizabeth recognised each other.
"Mr. Neville!" she cried, and her heart was full in a moment of a
thousand recollections--of the gratitude she owed--their parting
scene--and the many conjectures she had formed about him since they
separated. He looked more than pleased; and the expression of gloomy
abstraction which his face too often wore was lighted up by a smile that
went straight to the heart. He sprung from his horse, gave the rein to
his groom, and joining Elizabeth and her little companion, walked
towards the house.
Explanations and surprise followed. He was the praised, expected brother
of Lady Cecil. How strange that Elizabeth had not discovered this
relationship at Marseilles! and yet, at that time, she had scarcely a
thought to spare beyond Falkner. His recovery surprised Neville, and he
expressed the warmest pleasure. He looked with tenderness and admiration
at the soft and beautiful creature beside him, whose courage and
unwearied assiduity had preserved her father's life. It was a bewitching
contrast to remember her face shadowed by fear--her vigilant, anxious
eyes fixed on her father's wan countenance--her thoughts filled with one
sad fear; and now to see it beaming in youthful beauty, animated by the
happy, generous feelings which were her nature. Yet this very
circumstance had a sad reaction upon Neville. His heart still bore the
burden of its sorrow, and he felt more sure of the sympathy of the
afflicted mourner, than of one who looked untouched by any adversity.
The sentiment was transitory, for Elizabeth, with that delicate tact
which is natural to a feeling mind, soon gave such a subdued tone to
their conversation as made it accord with the mysterious unhappiness of
her companion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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