"Ah," said he, as he joined her. "Happy would it have been for you had neither of us crossed your path, to throw the shadow upon it we have done."
"We will not blame poor Lucy now she is gone," said Mabel, "and do not blame yourself again. I did not think I should miss her as much as I do; but there is such a pleasure in meeting a friend of about my own age."
"If there are three dark sides to a subject, and one bright one, you are sure to turn to the bright," said Clair.
"Should we not do so?" said Mabel, smiling faintly--"particularly when we must feel that even the one bright side is undeserved."
"I should very much have liked to have known your poor father," said Clair, rather abruptly.
"You would, indeed," said Mabel, "but what made you think of him?"
"Because I have heard that the lessons he gave you were so admirable; and practically illustrated--they are beautiful!"
"Nay, if you wish to flatter me, speak of him--not myself; truly, he was a gentleman, a scholar, and a soldier," said Mabel, as her eyes brightened, "and I cannot tell how much I owe to him. Now, if I am tempted to do anything wrong, his spirit seems to stand between me and the temptation. See what an advantage it is to be good," said she smiling, as if fearful of speaking too much of herself, "what an influence you possess."
"You do, indeed, possess an influence," said Clair, emphatically, as he turned his eyes to hers, with an expression of mingled admiration and respect.
"I must go in," replied Mabel, hurriedly, "talking of my dear father has cheated me into staying longer than I meant to have done. I must go to my dear child--good bye," said she, extending her hand frankly. "Go, and do anything but be sad about me."
Without waiting for a reply, she ran into the house, and Clair leant upon the gate and watched her departing figure, like one entranced, till, fearful of attracting observation, he briskly roused himself, as if from some pleasant dream, and pursued his walk through the village.
Meanwhile, Lucy continued her journey. At first the natural pain of parting from Aston led her to a train of sorrowful reflection. Perhaps she too remembered how different the home she had left had been when she entered it; but she had also to remember many mortifying things besides. Her easy conquest, as she imagined, had ended in total failure. If she had unintentionally brought evil on Mabel, she had also brought good, in the admiration of the fascinating Clair. Her recollections soon became too painful to be encouraged, and she took the ready source of comfort open to those who do not care to probe the conscience, and tried not to think at all. It was easiest and most agreeable, but she had to arm herself for the reception she would probably meet at home. How could she say she had entirely failed; and what reason could she give for believing that Clair was in earnest; she had not the heart to blame him. "If Mabel had not been there," she thought, "he never would have changed, but I will not think any harm of her, I _suppose_ she could not help it."