It seemed a sad and grievous thing, after having escaped so many perils, to come to his death at last; but so many families had suffered such infinitely greater loss, that repining and mourning seemed almost wrong.

And the thought of seeing all the home faces once more was altogether too delightful to admit of much admixture of grief.
"I wonder if Dorcas will come," said Gertrude, as they hung about the door awaiting the arrival which was expected every minute.
Three days had now passed since James Harmer's first visit, and he was to bring his wife and daughters in the afternoon, and stay the night himself, returning on the morrow to transact some necessary business, but spending much of his time with his family in this pleasant spot.
Gertrude had offered to leave, if there were not room for her; but in truth she scarce knew where to go, since of her father she had heard very little of late, and knew not how long his house would be his own.
No one, however, would hear of such a thing as that she should leave them.

She was already like a sister to the boys, and had in old days been as one to the girls.

Moreover, as Mary Harmer sometimes said, why should not she and Reuben be quietly married out here before they returned to the city, and then they could go back to their own house when all the negotiations had been completed and her father's mind relieved of its load of care?
"Why should Dorcas not come ?" asked Mary quickly.

"My brother spoke of bringing all." "I was wondering if Lady Scrope would be willing to spare her," was the reply.