pass a shop in which clothes were exposed, without remembering that, were my debts paid, I should literally be without a coat to my back.  Now, I had my own once more; and there stood the home of my ancestors for generations, looking comfortable and respectable, in the midst of a most inviting scene of rural quiet and loveliness.  The very fields seemed to welcome me beneath its roof!  There is no use in attempting to conceal what happened; and I will honestly relate it.

The road made a considerable circuit to descend the hill, while a foot-path led down the declivity, by a shorter cut, which was always taken by pedestrians.  Making an incoherent excuse to Moses, and telling him to wait for me at the foot of the hill, I sprang out of the carriage, leaped a fence, and I may add, leaped out of sight, in order to conceal my emotion.  I was no sooner lost to view, than, seating myself on a fragment of rock, I wept like a child.  How long I sat there is more than I can say; but the manner in which I was recalled from this paroxysm of feeling will not soon be forgotten.  A little hand was laid on my forehead, and a soft voice uttered the word “Miles!” so near me, that, at the next instant, I held Lucy in my arms.  The dear girl had walked to the hill, as she afterwards admitted, in the expectation of seeing me pass on to Clawbonny; and, comprehending my feelings and my behaviour, could not deny herself the exquisite gratification of sharing in my emotions.

“It is a blessed restoration to your rights, dear Miles,” Lucy at length said, smiling through her tears.  “Your letters have told me that you are rich; but I would rather you had Clawbonny, and not a cent besides, than, without this place, you had the riches of the wealthiest man in the country.  Yours it should have been, at all events, could my means have compassed it.”

“And this, Lucy, without my becoming your husband, do you mean?”

Lucy blushed brightly; though I cannot say the sincere, ingenuous girl ever looked embarrassed in avowing her preference for me.  After a moment’s pause, she smiled, and answered my question.

“I have not doubted of the result, since my father gave me an account of your feelings towards me,” she said, “and that, you will remember, was before Mr. Daggett had his sale.  Women have more confidence in the affections than men, I fear; at least, with us they are more engrossing concerns than with you—­for we live for them altogether, whereas you have the world constantly to occupy your thoughts.  I have never supposed Miles Wallingford would become the husband of any but Lucy Hardinge, except on one occasion, and then only for a very short period; and, ever since I have thought on such subjects at all, I have known that Lucy Hardinge would never—­could never be the wife of any one but Miles Wallingford.”

“And that one exception, dearest,—­that ‘very short period?’ Having confessed so much, I am eager to know all.”