“Only as Proserpine was buried with Pluto. It is not in human nature for so young a woman to wear her weeds for a lifetime. The hour of revival must come sooner or later. She has too bright and quick an intellect to submit to the monotony of an inconsolable sorrow. Her energy expends itself now in the desire to avenge her husband’s death. Failing in that, her restless spirit will seek some new outlet. She is beginning to be interested in her child. As that interest grows with the child’s growth, her horizon will widen. And then, and then, when she has discovered that life can still be beautiful, her heart will become accessible to a new love. The cure and the change, the awakening from death to life, may be slower than it is in most such cases, because this woman is the essence of sincerity, and all her feelings lie deep. But the awakening will come—you may be sure of that. Wait for it, Theodore; possess your soul in patience.” “You can afford to be philosophical,” said the other, with a sigh. “You are not in love!” “True, my friend. No doubt that makes a difference.” CHAPTER XXIV. “And one, an English home—gray twilight poured On dewy pastures, dewy trees, Softer than sleep—all things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.” Theodore and his friend betook themselves to Cheriton Chase on the following Friday, for that kind of visit which north country people describe as “a week end.” They carried their portmanteau in that portion of the dog-cart which is more legitimately occupied by a leash of spaniels or Irish setters, and they arrived in the golden light of the afternoon, just when that sunk lane approaching the west gate was looking its loveliest. Hart’s-tongue and rocky boulder, the great brown trunks of the oaks and the polypodium growing amidst their cloven branches were all touched with sun-gleams, while evening shadows lay soft and cool upon the tall flowering grasses in the meadows on either side of the deep gully. “That is Mrs. Porter’s cottage,” said Theodore, indicating the gatekeeper’s house with a turn of his whip towards the end of the lane where the clustered chimneys showed through a gap in the trees. Ramsay had been introduced to Miss Newton, and had constituted himself honorary surgeon and medical adviser to that lady and all her humble friends. He had been invited to the tea-parties in Wedgewood Street, and had interested himself in the young woman called Marian, and in her probable identity with the lodge-keeper’s missing daughter, for which reason he had a keen desire to make the lodge-keeper’s acquaintance.