gs,
old Thornwick should be joined up again at last!"

Partly by a death in the family, partly through the securities her
husband had taken on the property, partly by the will of her father,
the whole of Durnmelling now belonged to Hesper.

"It is strange," answered Godfrey, with an involuntary sigh.

Hesper turned and looked at him.

It was not merely sadness she saw on his face. There was something
there almost like humility, though Hesper was not able to read it as
such. He lifted his head, and did not avoid her gaze.

"You are wondering, Hesper," he said, "that I do not respond with more
pleasure. To tell you the truth, I have come through so much that I am
almost afraid to expect the fruition of any good. Please do not
imagine, you beautiful creature! it is of the property I am thinking.
In your presence that would be impossible. Nor, indeed, have I begun to
think of it. I shall, one day, come to care for it, I do not
doubt--that is, when once I have you safe; but I keep looking for the
next slip that is to come--between my lip and this full cup of
hap-piness. I have told you all, Hesper, and I thank you that you do
not despise me. But it may well make me solemn and fearful, to think,
after all the waves and billows that have gone over me, such a splendor
should be mine!--But, do you really love me, Hesper--or am I walking in
my sleep? I had thought, 'Surely now at last I shall never love
again!'--and instead of that, here I am loving, as I never loved
before!--and doubting whether I ever did love before!"

"I never loved before," said Hesper. "Surely to love must be a good
thing, when it has made you so good! I am a poor creature beside you,
Godfrey, but I am glad to think whatever I know of love you have taught
me. It is only I who have to be ashamed!"

"That is all your goodness!" interrupted Godfrey. "Yet, at this moment,
I can not quite be sorry for some things I ought to be sorry for: but
for them I should not be at your side now--happier than I dare allow
myself to feel. I dare hardly think of those things, lest I should be
glad I had done wrong."

"There are things I am compelled to know of myself, Godfrey, which I
shall never speak to you about, for even to think of them by your side
would blast all my joy. How plainly Mary used to tell me what I was! I
scorned her words! It seemed, then, too late to repent. And now I am
repenting! I little thought ever to give in like this! But of one thing
I am