And she fainted into the arms of Sally, who was come just in time to fetch her:  no doubt she had been suffering agony all the time she talked to me.  Leaving word that I would come again to inquire for her, and fetch Kickums home, so soon as the harvest permitted me, I gave directions about the horse, and striding away from the ancient town, was soon upon the moorlands.

Now, through the whole of that long walk—­the latter part of which was led by starlight, till the moon arose—­I dwelt, in my young and foolish way, upon the ordering of our steps by a Power beyond us.  But as I could not bring my mind to any clearness upon this matter, and the stars shed no light upon it, but rather confused me with wondering how their Lord could attend to them all, and yet to a puny fool like me, it came to pass that my thoughts on the subject were not worth ink, if I knew them.

But it is perhaps worth ink to relate, so far as I can do so, mother’s delight at my return, when she had almost abandoned hope, and concluded that I was gone to London, in disgust at her behaviour.  And now she was looking up the lane, at the rise of the harvest-moon, in despair, as she said afterwards.  But if she had despaired in truth, what use to look at all?  Yet according to the epigram made by a good Blundellite,—­

    “Despair was never yet so deep
     In sinking as in seeming;
     Despair is hope just dropped asleep
     For better chance of dreaming.”

And mother’s dream was a happy one, when she knew my step at a furlong distant; for the night was of those that carry sound thrice as far as day can.  She recovered herself, when she was sure, and even made up her mind to scold me, and felt as if she could do it.  But when she was in my arms, into which she threw herself, and I by the light of the moon descried the silver gleam on one side of her head (now spreading since Annie’s departure), bless my heart and yours therewith, no room was left for scolding.  She hugged me, and she clung to me; and I looked at her, with duty made tenfold, and discharged by love.  We said nothing to one another; but all was right between us.

Even Lizzie behaved very well, so far as her nature admitted; not even saying a nasty thing all the time she was getting my supper ready, with a weak imitation of Annie.  She knew that the gift of cooking was not vouchsafed by God to her; but sometimes she would do her best, by intellect to win it.  Whereas it is no more to be won by intellect than is divine poetry.  An amount of strong quick heart is needful, and the understanding must second it, in the one art as in the other.  Now my fare was very choice for the next three days or more; yet not turned out like Annie’s.  They could do a thing well enough on the fire; but they could not put it on table so; nor even have plates all piping hot.  This was Annie’s special gift; born in her, and ready to cool with her; like a plate borne away from the