All the Year Round - Google Books

All the Year Round - Google Books

"It is Christopher Lee !" cried May, in astonishment. The next moment the coach was pulled up before them, and there sat Christopher, bare-headed and smiling at them, as if this meeting was the happiest thing in the world. Another moment and he vaulted to the ground and was shaking May and Paul each by a hand, and introducing them to the lady who sat aloft on the coach.

"My wife, Miss Mourne. Mr. Finiston, my wife." The lady was a pretty, bright creature, who leaned down from her high place and squeezed May's hands, and looked with eager gaze into the faces of her husband's friends. She was an artless, fresh young thing, all glittering in pretty clothes, which were rich enough for a duchess. There had scarcely been time to say "Welcome" and " How do you do" before a large face was thrust out of the interior of the coach, and a voice of complacent melancholy was heard expostulating with them all:

"Let me out I say, Christopher, my son! Am I already forgotten in my old age. A-a-ah! the young will ever push the old people aside. My dear Miss May! I am waiting to embrace you. You were always as a daughter to me. Lucy will not be jealous—I told her so long ago."

As it was known to be a work of some difficulty to get Mrs. Lee out of the coach, May stood upon the steps and allowed herself to be kissed. Afterwards, that the servants on the back seat might not be too much entertained by Mrs. Lee's fond expressions, Christopher handed his wife and May into the coach to bear her company, while Paul mounted beside him on the box, and the party moved slowly onward.

"You wonder at all this, eh?" asked Christopher, unable to withhold his news from a sympathising friend. "There was nothing about it in my last letter."

"No," said Paul, "but it is a long time since you wrote to us."

"Yes," said Christopher, "I have been very much occupied, and besides I wanted to give you a surprise. To tell the truth at once, I am in possession of that property which I once lost by my folly. My wife— bless her!—is the person who was enriched by my misfortune. I could not rest a moment till I confessed this to you. I have much more to tell you when there is time. It is a very odd story; but don't think badly of me."

"I know you too well for that," said Paul, kindly, for Christopher looked em

Charles Dickens.] THE WICKED WOODS OF TOBEREEVIL. [June 82,1874.] 141