As he lightly stepped
along, he heard a voice that he could not mistake, as it were in
animated converse. Agitated by sounds which ever created in him emotion,
for a moment he paused. He starts, his eye sparkles with strange
delight, a flush comes over his panting features, half of modesty, half
of triumph. He listens to his own speech from the lips of the woman he
loves. She is reading to her father with melodious energy the passage
in which he describes the high qualities of his Catholic neighbours. The
intonations of the voice indicate the deep sympathy of the reader. She
ceases. He hears the admiring exclamation of his host. He rallies his
strength, he advances, he stands before them. She utters almost a shriek
of delightful surprise as she welcomes him.
How much there was to say! how much to ask! how much to answer! Even Mr.
Dacre poured forth questions like a boy. But May: she could not
speak, but leant forward in her chair with an eager ear, and a look of
congratulation, that rewarded him for all his exertion. Everything was
to be told. How he went; whether he slept in the mail; where he went;
what he did; whom he saw; what they said; what they thought; all must be
answered.
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