CHAPTER XX.
September 24th .-- In the morning I rose, light and cheerful--nay, intensely happy.

The hovering cloud cast over me by my aunt's views, and by the fear of not obtaining her consent, was lost in the bright effulgence of my own hopes, and the too delightful consciousness of requited love.

It was a splendid morning; and I went out to enjoy it, in a quiet ramble, in company with my own blissful thoughts.

The dew was on the grass, and ten thousand gossamers were waving in the breeze; the happy red-breast was pouring out its little soul in song, and my heart overflowed with silent hymns of gratitude and praise to heaven.
But I had not wandered far before my solitude was interrupted by the only person that could have disturbed my musings, at that moment, without being looked upon as an unwelcome intruder: Mr.Huntingdon came suddenly upon me.

So unexpected was the apparition, that I might have thought it the creation of an over-excited imagination, had the sense of sight alone borne witness to his presence; but immediately I felt his strong arm round my waist and his warm kiss on my cheek, while his keen and gleeful salutation, 'My own Helen!' was ringing in my ear.
'Not yours yet!' said I, hastily swerving aside from this too presumptuous greeting.