But no ray of sunshine could reach my heart, no breeze could freshen it; nothing could fill the void my faith, and hope, and joy in Helen Graham had left, or drive away the keen regrets and bitter dregs of lingering love that still oppressed it.
While I stood with folded arms abstractedly gazing on the undulating swell of the corn, not yet disturbed by the reapers, something gently pulled my skirts, and a small voice, no longer welcome to my ears, aroused me with the startling words,--'Mr.Markham, mamma wants you.' 'Wants me, Arthur ?' 'Yes.

Why do you look so queer ?' said he, half laughing, half frightened at the unexpected aspect of my face in suddenly turning towards him,--'and why have you kept so long away?
Come! Won't you come ?' 'I'm busy just now,' I replied, scarce knowing what to answer.
He looked up in childish bewilderment; but before I could speak again the lady herself was at my side.
'Gilbert, I must speak with you!' said she, in a tone of suppressed vehemence.
I looked at her pale cheek and glittering eye, but answered nothing.
'Only for a moment,' pleaded she.

'Just step aside into this other field.' She glanced at the reapers, some of whom were directing looks of impertinent curiosity towards her.

'I won't keep you a minute.' I accompanied her through the gap.
'Arthur, darling, run and gather those bluebells,' said she, pointing to some that were gleaming at some distance under the hedge along which we walked.

The child hesitated, as if unwilling to quit my side.