thought of seeing it darkened by the pain her story would inflict; and she
shrank from embittering moments so precious to her heart.

All her endeavours to discover Lucilla had been in vain: but an unquiet
presentiment that at any moment that discovery might be made, perhaps in
the presence of Godolphin, constantly haunted her, and she even now looked
painfully forth at each inn where they changed horses, lest the sad, stern
features of the soothsayer should appear, and break that spell of happy
quiet which now lay over the spirit of Godolphin.

It was towards the evening that their carriage slowly wound up a steep and
long ascent. The sun yet wanted an hour to its setting; and at their
right, its slant and mellowed beams fell over rich fields, green with the
prodigal luxuriance of June, and intersected by hedges from which, proud
and frequent, the oak and elm threw forth their lengthened shadows. On
their left the grass less fertile, and the spaces less inclosed, were
whitened with flocks of sheep; and far and soft came the bleating of the
lambs upon their ear. They saw not the shepherd nor any living form; but
from between the thicker groups of trees the chimneys of peaceful cottages
peered forth, and gave to the pastoral serenity of the scene that still
and tranquil aspect of life which alone suited it. The busy wheel in the
heart of Constance was at rest, and Godolphin's soul, steeped in the
luxury of the present hour, felt that delicious happiness which would be
heaven could it outlive the hour.

"My Constance," whispered he, "why, since we return at last to these
scenes, why should we ever leave them? Amidst them let us recall our
youth!" Constance sighed, but with pleasure, and pressed Godolphin's hand
to her lips.