LOST AT NIGHTFALL.

It was a soft spring morning, with an exhilarating, jubilant lightness in the air, such as only comes in the very early spring, or at sunrise on a dewy summer-day.  A few gray clouds lay low along the horizon, but overhead the sky was a deep, rich blue, with fine, filmy streaks of white vapor floating slowly across it.  The branches of the trees were still bare, showing the blue through their delicate net-work; but the ends of the twigs were thickening, and the leaf-buds swelling under the rind.  The shoots of the hazel-bushes wore a purple bloom, with yellow catkins already hanging in tassels about them.  The white buds of the chestnut-trees shone with silvery lustre.  In the orchards, though the tangled boughs of the apple-trees were still thickly covered with gray lichens, small specks of green among the gray gave a promise of early blossom.  Thrushes were singing from every thorn-bush; and the larks, lost in the blue heights above us, flung down their triumphant carols, careless whether our ears caught them or no.  A long, straight road stretched before us, and seemed to end upon the skyline in the far distance.  Below us, when we looked back, lay the valley and the town; and all around us a vast sweep of country, rising up to the low floor of clouds from which the bright dome of the sky was springing.

We strolled on as if we were walking on air, and could feel no fatigue; Minima with a flush upon her pale cheeks, and chattering incessantly about the boys, whose memories were her constant companions.  I too had my companions; faces and voices were about me, which no eye or ear but mine could perceive.

During the night, while my brain had been between waking and sleeping, I had been busy with the new idea that had taken possession of it.  The more I pondered upon the subject, the more impossible it appeared that the laws of any Christian country should doom me, and deliver me up against my will, to a bondage more degrading and more cruel than slavery itself.  If every man, I had said to myself, were proved to be good and chivalrous, of high and steadfast honor, it might be possible to place another soul, more frail and less wise, into his charge unchallenged.  But the law is made for evil men, not for good.  I began to believe it incredible that it should subject me to the tyranny of a husband who made my home a hell, and gave me no companionship but that of the vicious.  Should the law make me forfeit all else, it would at least recognize my right to myself.  Once free from the necessity of hiding, I did not fear to face any difficulty.  Surely he had been deceiving me, and playing upon my ignorance, when he told me I belonged to him as a chattel!

Every step which carried us nearer to Granville brought new hope to me.  The face of Martin’s mother came often to my mind, looking at me, as she had done in Sark, with a mournful yet tender smile—­a smile behind which lay many tears.  If I could but lay my head upon her lap, and tell her all, all which I had never breathed into any ear, I should feel secure and happy.  “Courage!” I said to myself; “every hour brings you nearer to her.”