Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 371: what you’re looking at

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358 pented of his harsh conduct towards his daughter —that a complete reconciliation with her family had taken place —and she was handsomely remem- bered in her father’s will. I expressed the plea- sure with which I received this intelligence; and after passing a couple of hours with the worthy old old couple, I returned to the hotel. CHAPTER CLII. THE 15TH OF NOVEMBER. TEE morning of the memorable 15th of Novem- ber, 1842, dawned; and though it was the month for fog, and mist, and gloom, yet was this day as bright a one as if Autumn himself had forgotten that he was so close upon extinction, or as if Winter had omitted as yet to make an approach towards claiming the allegiance of the season. If heralded the sunbeams which glinted through the murky atmosphere of Manchester, as the emblems of that hopefulness with which the day began to dawn for me, and the harbingers of the happiness which at a later hour I was to experience. I started by an early train; and it was about eleven o’clock in the forenoon when I alighted at the station at Kendal in Westmoreland. I left my trunk there, with the intimation that I would send for it presently ;-and I set out to walk to my des- tination. The weather was indeed beautiful: the sun was shining bright!y—the atmosphere had a healthful freshness, totally distinct from misty dampness. Tt was such a breeze that was well calculated fo brace the physical energies, and thereby cheer the spirits. But I walked slowly along the broad road leading to Heseltine Hall: the distance was only a couple of miles—and I had resolved to fulfil Sir Matthew’s injunction to the very letter: namely, to present myself before him precisely at the hour of noon on this memorable day. Oh! what ineff- able feclings filled my heart as each step broaght me nearer to my destination, and as I recognised object after object along that road! To use a vulgar yet very expressive term, my heart ap- peared to come up into my very throat: I could searcely prevent myself from sobbing with joy: sweet tears of bliss and hope were constantly start- ing into my eyes as I walked along that road. But, oh ! how can I describe what I felt when I caught the first glimpse of the tall chimneys of the old mansion peeping above the trees which had well nigh lost all their foliage? That was the home of Annabel: beneath that roof dwelt the beloved being: thither was I proceeding—-that was my de- stination. Oh! joy supreme! Was the last hour of the ) preser ibed period of self-exile from that mansion now passing? was the clock full soon to proclaim the moment when I was to find myself once more in the presence of the charming and well-beloved Annabel P What a reward for all I had suffered! what a recompense for all I had gone through !— and I may perhaps be pardoned if during those lapsing minutes of blissful expectation, IT felt not that the recent circumstances which had oceurred at Hecleston House in London retained upon my mind that heavy and dismalimpression which they had hitherto, made. ‘ —_—_—_—_—_—_— rr JSS BSS lORG ERRORS SRR ST RV eo BERR Ree Se Re Peo FeO JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. — Nearer and nearer I approached to my destina- tion. Forgive me, reader, if I am thus minute in the details of my feclings and emotions on this eventful day. Perhaps you yourseif cau appreciate the luxury of those feelings: peradventure your own heart can enter into all that constituted those emotions. If so, you can understand liow it was that I halted and leant against a tree for support when I reached a spot whence I could command a full view of Heseltine Hall. And here I wept delicious tears; and having dried my eyes, f con- tinued my way. Another ten minutes’ walk, and T reached the entrance to the estate. The great iron gates stood wide open; and yet there was no equipage in sight—none that had just passed in— none that was just-coming out. Ob! was it for me that these gates were thrown ope? was it a symbol of the welcome that I was to receive at that mansion which stood on the gentle eminencé a quarter of a mile distant ? Allin a moment I found myself edad by a happy group. The old porter, his daughter Phoebe, his son-in-law Reuben, and their four children (they had only three when f left the Hall two years back) came forth from the lodge with smiling countenances, evidently to welcome me, They were all dressed in their holiday apparel ; and their eyes were beaming with joy and delight. I accosted them: I endeavoured to speak —to make inquiries concerning those in whom I was so deeply interested at the Hall: but my words could not find utterance—my voice was choked with the emotions that surged up from the depths of my heart. And now a soft melancholy shade came over the countenunces of the old ma, his daughter, and her husband, as they observed for the first time that I was in deep mourning. “ Have you lost some one, Mr. Wilmot,” asked the old porter, in a low voice and with hesitating manner, “ who is dear to you ?”—then, as he per- ceived the tears trickling down my cheeks, he added, “ Whatsoever this loss may be, it is not known at the Hall ; and therefore perhaps—uader existing circumstances—and considering the pre- parations made—my Reuben here had better run up in advance " “No, no, my good old man!” [I said, taking him by the hand and pressing it with fervour ; “let everything remain as Sir Matthew has de- ereed it! Isee—Oh! I see from what you have said, it is indeed to be a day of happiness But I stopped short: for again my emotions suffoeated me. The old porter, dashing away the tears from his own eyes, pointed through the open door into the lodge; and I beheld the table covered with a snowy napkin, and with decanters of wine upon it —while the numerous vessels upon the fire and the hobs indicated an extraordinary degree of festive preparation in that humble tenement. “There will be a little banquet here to-day, Mr. Wilmot,” said the old man, “ as there will be a grand one upat the Hall. And your health, sir, will be drunk with joyous welcome beneath this roof. Yet if your own heart is sad “ No, no!” I exclaimed: and then in the cffu- sion of my feelings, 1 grasped the hands of the adults, and I caressed the children. “ Be happy— be happy, my good people! It is a day which God himself has sent for us all to be happy here!” OO) bMS TA . tin die BALI MRD Mais CORR TP PR Yh or IETS SENN | ee oe eee eee ee a ee a eee