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Without, the world had never been fairer, nor the sea lovelier. No storms lashed it, and the great world of waves glittered calm and untroubled under the sun, with no hint of death or woe in its purple evening lights or its bright morning gleams. Then, after this long seeking, a faint hope began to dawn in Trafford's heart.
But it had come at last that she had listened with pensive pleasure to Trafford's tale of love; and because to be worshipped by a man high in all men's, and in most women's, esteem, ministered delicately to her sweet egotism, and because she was proud of him, she gave him her hand in promise, and her cheek in privilege, but denied him though he knew this not her heart and the service of her life.
"I came about him. I wished to know whether he were alive, and that you have been able to inform me: and where he was; and that you have not been able to inform me." "Why, you're a regular muff!" said the bishop. A few days after his morning walk with Sybil, it was agreed that Egremont should visit Mr Trafford's factory, which he had expressed a great desire to inspect.
Into Trafford's life had come more brightness and content than he had known since that dark day when his wife left him and vanished in the darkness which, to his eyes, filled and hovered over the grave. It did not, as yet, seem like a real and lasting joy; he trembled lest some day it should prove but a dream, a vision, and so vanish.
It was understood that a body meant to attack Trafford's works, but, as the narrator added, it was very probable that the greater part would cross the bridge and so on to the Moor, where they would hold a meeting. Sybil would fain have crossed in the boat, but there was no one to assist her. They had escaped, and meant to lose no time in finding a place of refuge for the moment.
"It seems to me very rash," said the lady in a kind tone, and who seemed to recognise her. "Alas! what am I to do!" exclaimed Sybil. "I left my father at Mr Trafford's!" "Well, we have no time to lose," said the man, whose companion had now fastened the boat to the bank, and so wishing them good morning, and followed by the whole of his cargo, they went on their way.
I went down stairs to breakfast. Miss Trafford and Lady Nelthorpe were in the room talking with great interest, and, on Miss Trafford's part, with still greater vehemence. "So handsome," said Lady Nelthorpe, as I approached. "Are you talking of me?" said I. "Oh, you vanity of vanities!" was the answer.
She was bent and thin, with great wrinkles in her forehead and face, and wherever a tuft of wool peeped out from under the fanciful headgear, it showed quite gray; but her step was quick and firm as she went across the floor to the figure by the great window. "A letter, Mas'r Dick," said she, standing by Trafford's chair; "dat yer old skipper brought it. Said he brung it straight from de city."
But too happy in the consciousness that it was really Noll, safe and unharmed, who was before him, to care for aught further at present, he sat silently holding the boy's hands, while his heart gave grateful thanks to God. "Poor Uncle Richard!" said the boy, at last. Trafford's lips moved, and with an effort he said, "No, no, not poor! I'm rich, rich! so rich! O God, help me!
Trafford's eyes suddenly caught sight of their silvery glitter, and he stopped, looking up at them, while the sudden thought flashed through his mind, "Is my boy up there? beyond those shining worlds, in that happy heaven which he trusted in?" The thought held him silent and motionless. It had not entered his heart before.
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