Herbert knew not how intimately the image of Mary Greville had mingled with his most secret thoughts, even in his moments of grave study and earnest application, until he heard she was about to leave England.  Sorrow, disappointment, scarcely defined but bitterly painful, then occupied his mind, and the knowledge burst with dazzling clearness on his heart that he loved her; so deeply, so devotedly, that even were every other wish fulfilled, life, without her, would be a blank.  He had deemed himself so lifted above all earthly feelings, that even were he to be deprived as Mr. Morton of every natural relation, he could in time reconcile himself to the will of his Maker, and in the discharge of ministerial duties be happy.  He had fancied his heart was full of the love of God alone, blessed in that, however changed his earthly lot.  Suddenly he was awakened from his illusion:  now in the hour of separation he knew an earthly idol; he discovered that he was not so completely the servant of his Maker as he had hoped, and sometimes believed.  But in the doubts and fears which shadowed his exalted mind, he sought the footstool of his God.  His cry for assistance was not unheeded.  Peace and comfort rested on his heart.  A cloud was lifted from his eyes, and for the knowledge of his virtuous love he blessed his God; feeling thus supported he could guide and control himself according to the dictates of piety.  He knew well the character of Mary; he felt assured that, if in after years he were permitted to make her his own, she would indeed become his helpmate in all things, more particularly in those which related to his God and to his holy duties among men.  He thought on the sympathy that existed between them—­he remembered the lighting up of that soft, dark eye, the flushing cheek, the smile of pleasure that ever welcomed him, and fondly his heart whispered that he need not doubt her love.  Three years, or nearly four must elapse ere he could feel at liberty to marry; not till he beheld himself a minister of God.  Yet interminable as to his imagination the intervening years appeared, still there was no trembling in his trusting heart.  If his Father on high ordained them for each other, it mattered not how long the time that must elapse, and if for some wise purpose his wishes were delayed, he recognised the hand of God, and saw “that it was good.”

Yet Herbert could not resist the impulse to behold Mary once more ere she quitted England to explain to her his feelings; to understand each other.  He knew the day his father intended going to Dover, and the evening previous, much to the astonishment of his family, made his appearance amongst them.  All expressed pleasure at his intention but one, and that one understood not why; but when she heard the cause of his unexpected visit, a sudden and indefinable pang shot through her young heart, dimming at once the joy with which the sight of him had filled it.  She knew not, guessed not why, when she laid her head on her pillow that night, she wept so bitterly.  The source of those secret and silent tears she could not trace, she only knew their cause was one of sorrow, and yet she loved Mary.