Living the simple but arduous life of the hunters and
trappers, he sought to bury the folly of the past, and restore his hopes
of a brighter and better future.
One day, about six months after the death of Vermont, Lord Barminster
sat in the dining-room of Barminster Castle. His eyes, their expression
no less keen, but far more gentle than in former years, were bent,
sometimes on the cheerful fire, sometimes on the calm face of his ward,
where she stood in the deep embrasure of the window, gazing out over the
snow.
A book was in her hand, but it was closed; and the wistful look in her
sweet eyes showed that her thoughts had flown from the pages of fiction
to the realities of the past and the future.
Suddenly Lord Barminster raised his head.
"Constance, what does Lady Ankerton say in her letter?"
The girl took it from the rack on the writing-desk.
"She says," replied the sweet, musical voice, "that the Ashfords are
well and thriving. She has taken quite an interest in them. Mr. Harker
is rather weak, but cheerful, and so happy in the love of his
grandchildren."
"Ah!" said Lord Barminster, "I am glad they are happy, they deserve all
the pleasure they can get.
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