“If that be so, it will relieve my mind very much, Reuben,” replied Hannah.

The appearance of Ishmael’s pale face at the door put an end to the conversation for the time being.  And Reuben took up his hat and departed.

That evening, after Reuben had bid them good-night, and departed to the neighbor’s house where he slept, Hannah told Ishmael all about her engagement to Gray.  And it was with the utmost astonishment the youth learned they were all to go to reside on the plantation of Judge Merlin—­Claudia’s father!  Well! to live so near her house would make his duty to conquer his passion only the more difficult, but he was still resolved to effect his purpose.

Having once given her consent, Hannah would not compromise Reuben’s interest with his employer by making any more difficulties or delays.  She spent the remainder of that week in packing up the few effects belonging to herself and Ishmael.  The boy himself employed his time in transplanting rosebushes from the cottage-garden to his mother’s grave, and fencing it around with a rude but substantial paling.  On Sunday morning Reuben and Hannah were married at the church; and on Monday they were to set out for their new home.

Early on Monday morning Ishmael arose and went out to take leave of his mother’s grave; and, kneeling there, he silently renewed his vow to rescue her name from reproach and give it to honor.

Then he returned and joined the traveling party.

Before the cottage door stood Reuben’s light wagon, in which were packed the trunks with their wearing apparel, the hamper with their luncheon, and all the little light effects which required care.  Into this Gray placed Hannah and Ishmael, taking the driver’s seat himself.  A heavier wagon behind this one contained all Hannah’s household furniture, including her loom and wheel and Ishmael’s home-made desk and book-shelf, and in the driver’s seat sat the negro man who had come down in attendance upon the overseer.

The Professor of Odd Jobs stood in the door of the hut, with his hat in his hand, waving adieu to the departing travelers.  The professor had come by appointment to see them off and take the key of the hut to the overseer at the Hall.

The sun was just rising above the heights of Brudenell Hall and flooding all the vale with light.  The season was very forward, and, although the month was March, the weather was like that of April.  The sky was of that clear, soft, bright blue of early spring; the sun shone with dazzling splendor; the new grass was springing up everywhere, and was enameled with early violets and snow-drops; the woods were budding with the tender green of young vegetation.  Distant, sunny hills, covered with apple or peach orchards all in blossom, looked like vast gardens of mammoth red and white rose trees.

Even to the aged spring brings renewal of life, but to the young—­not even poets have words at command to tell what exhilaration, what ecstatic rapture, it brings to the young, who are also sensitive and sympathetic.