“You have been quite a hero, Harry!” said Gilbert; “few men, I can tell you, could have done what you have done. You ought to give yourself a little rest. Such a thing as this, now,” said Gilbert, pointing to a line of carts slowly proceeding, with much ringing of horses’ hoofs and carters’ clogs, along the frosty, whitened road, “just to stand and let those odorous carts pass by might upset a man of your organization: yet you’ve been among them constantly for some two months, now. I envy you your force of resolution, Harry.” Poor Harry! this piece of flattery mollified his irritated temper more easily than anything else could have done. Half conscious that he had already abandoned this last and most costly toy of his, it salved his conscience to have his perseverance wondered at. He put his arm in Gilbert’s, with sudden friendliness. “I think I shall go, after all,” he said. “Armstrong can manage everything well enough. He has been accustomed to this sort of thing all his life; and, to tell the truth, it requires that, I am afraid, to make a farmer--that is to say, your thorough enthusiastic farmer. But now that January is over, I think a few weeks’ change would quite set me up again: besides, spring always reconciles one to the country. So I fancy we may settle upon going, Gilbert. When shall you be ready?” “In a day--any time,” said Mr. Gilbert, shaking the thin, powdery snow from the hedge, by a blow of his cane. “I haven’t three ladies to look after me, as you have: the girls have their own affairs to mind, and so has the mamma. I get my wardrobe to superintend myself--different from you, Harry.” And not quite sure whether to be pleased, and accept this as a token of his superior importance, or to resent it as a check upon his manliness and independence, Harry began immediately to discuss the projected journey--how they should go, and when; and it was soon decided, very much more to Gilbert’s satisfaction, than to the good pleasure of Agnes and Martha, at home. For Agnes found out many little objections, and urged them with some pique and displeasure. Agnes thought she herself, his wife, would have been a much more suitable companion for Harry than Gilbert Allenders; and she should have greatly liked to go to London, even at risk of leaving the baby. Martha said nothing: her hope was gliding out of her hands again, defying all her eager attempts to hold it; and steady darkness--darkness as of the Egyptian night, tangible and positive, was settling down upon Martha’s heart. “So you have had our Edinburgh friend here again, Miss Rose?” said Mr. Gilbert. “I suppose he will condescend to be civil to you. What is the man, Harry? Nothing but a Scotch W. S., I suppose?” “He is an advocate, and a gentleman,” said Rose, under her breath; and when she had said this, she turned to the window, fearful of disclosing the vivid blush which covered her whole face.