It was long before Katharine's tears ceased to flow. There are, however, tears and tears; and some tears are much sweeter than many species of smiles. CHAPTER XX. Q. Mar. 'Why, now is Henry king and Margaret queen, And Humphrey Duke of Gloster scarce himself, ATHARINE HEALEY had been Katharine Earnshaw for a fortnight, and was on the eve of leaving Skern ford with her husband for Liverpool. They walked for the last time in the field beside the river. A gusty October evening; the sky was stormy, and the wind battled fretfully with the trees. On the following morning they would begin the journey that was to take them from England-probably for ever. They were quite silent. Ughtred was not unhappy. The future for him was fair. Katharine was feeling as only women can feel at such moments. The strife between grief and joy was very strong. At that moment her heart was beating and yearning towards what she had lost; her mind was full of echoes—and mental echoes, like actual ones, are softer, sweeter, more musical than the original sound. Who shall analyze such sensations, or who shall say why we love the places where we have known little else than suffering? They were stopped in their silent walk by a stile dividing that meadow from the next, and this obstacle broke the smooth current of reverie. Each turned to the other, and their eyes met. Katharine, do you repent?' 'Not for a second,' answered she, placing her hand in his. He retained it; and they turned their backs upon the setting sun, and walked homewards, speaking as they went of things that had happened since Wilfrid's death. They spoke even of Crier, who had disappeared no one knew where; and Katharine found that she could own to Ughtred her conviction that the man had been wronged, and that Wilfrid had sinned very dreadfully. As they spoke of Louis Kay their voices sank; they knew he seemed to outsiders so little changed by the death of his friend and the loss of his promised wife, that the world said he had not cared a straw for the one, and had valued only the money of the other. But these two, who were not outsiders, knew how different it was; and Katharine, whose whole nature seemed to have softened under her new happiness, could not help weeping as she spoke of him. Then they talked of Thorgerd, and how they should see her soon, for she was to join them in their emigration. It had touched Katharine inexpressibly when Ughtred, finding her uneasy and troubled on account of a letter from Thorgerd, had himself proposed the scheme. 'Do I repent?' repeated Katharine, as they drew close to the house. How can you ask? Do people repent being happy when they have once known what sadness is ?' It may be that Katharine and Ughtred did feel glad as they saw the murky little Isle where they had loved and suffered growing smaller; and when night finally covered it altogether, they may have been pleased to know that to-morrow it would have vanished altogether from their ken. But though Katharine is surrounded by her husband's protecting arms, encircled by his love, one with him in nearly all feelings and wishes, yet she casts back long, lingering, heartaching memories to that bleak Lancashire village to that lonely grave on the moorland slope, where lie buried her worst grief, her keenest sorrow, and with them her strongest |