sleeping. I feel calmer now that I
have written all this; and I will go to bed, and try to win tired
nature's sweet restorer.

CHAPTER XX

September 24th.--In the morning I rose, light and cheerful--nay,
intensely happy. The hovering cloud cast over me by my aunt's views, and
by the fear of not obtaining her consent, was lost in the bright
effulgence of my own hopes, and the too delightful consciousness of
requited love. It was a splendid morning; and I went out to enjoy it, in
a quiet ramble, in company with my own blissful thoughts. The dew was on
the grass, and ten thousand gossamers were waving in the breeze; the
happy red-breast was pouring out its little soul in song, and my heart
overflowed with silent hymns of gratitude and praise to heaven.

But I had not wandered far before my solitude was interrupted by the only
person that could have disturbed my musings, at that moment, without
being looked upon as an unwelcome intruder: Mr. Huntingdon came suddenly
upon me. So unexpected was the apparition, that I might have thought it
the creation of an over-excited imagination, had the sense of sight alone
borne witness to his presence; but immediately I felt his strong arm
round my waist and his warm kiss on my cheek, while his keen and gleeful
salutation, 'My own Helen!' was ringing in my ear.

'Not yours yet!' said I, hastily swerving aside from this too
presumptuous greeting. 'Remember my guardians. You will not easily
obtain my aunt's consent. Don't you see she is prejudiced against you?'

'I do, dearest; and you must tell me why, that I may best know how to
combat her objections. I suppose she thinks I am a prodigal,' pursued
he, observing that I was unwilling to reply, 'and concludes that I shall
have but little worldly goods wherewith to endow my better half? If so,
you must tell her that my property is mostly entailed, and I cannot get
rid of it. There may be a few mortgages on the rest--a few trifling
debts and incumbrances here and there, but nothing to speak of; and
though I acknowledge I am not so rich as I might be--or have been--still,
I think, we could manage pretty comfortably on what's left. My father,
you know, was something of a miser, and in his latter days especially saw
no pleasure in life but to amass riches; and so it is no wonder that his
son should make it his chief delight to spend them, which was accordingly
the case, until my acquaintance with you, dear Helen, taught