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ENOCH ARDEN
71
sadly faded, was bowed in the thin hands, and Philip, standing nnseen for a moment, remembered vividly his dark honr there, so long ago, and with quick resolve, dropped by her side.
"There is a thing which has been upon my mind so long that I must speak it out," he said impulsively. "It is beyond all hope, against all reason, that he who left you ten long years ago, is living now, so let me speak. I grieve to see you wanting help, yet I cannot help you as I wish unless you will be my wife. Let me be a father to the children; I love them now as if they were my own. Think of it, Annie, for I have loved you longer than you know."
"You have been as God's own angel to our home, ' ' replied Annie, tenderly, "and you deserve far more than I can give you. My heart is yet with Enoch, and I feel that he is alive."
' ' Impossible ! ' ' cried Philip. ' ' Did he not love you dearly? Were he alive, would he so stay away, with no word or sign?"
Once begun, Philip urged his suit unceasingly, and when, at last, her children added their pleadings to his, Annie consented, and they were wed. But tho the bells rang as merrily as before, Annie's heart would not beat merrily. Beside her seemed to walk a footstep, almost heard; upon her ear a whisper fell, almost understood; and sometimes there passed before her eyes a figure, almost seen. Yet she never spoke of these things, and when her new child came this mysterious instinct died, and Philip had his rightful place within her heart.
A year went by. One late November evening, when chill mist and fog hung over the little village, causing all the inhabitants to keep within doors by cozy fires, a strange figure went up the narrow road which clambered toward the mill. It was a man, roughly dressed, with long beard and ill-kept hair. A wild, hungry look, half-eager, half-fearful, lurked in his
ENOCHS RETURN
deep-set eyes, a hurried uncertainty showed itself in his gait. Now he rushed forward, stumbling in his haste; now lagged haltingly, as if fearing the journey's end. Half way up the hill he paused, and crept slowly toward a tiny cottage, dimly outlined thru the mist. It was empty, deserted ; the windows boarded ; the door tightly barred.
With a hoarse cry the visitor knelt upon the ground, wringing his bony hands.
"Gone! All gone!" he moaned. ' ' They all are dead ! My Annie ! My pretty babes ! ' '
Suddenly his mood changed. He laughed aloud and cried joyously.
"Faint heart, scared by foolish fancies! Doubtless she has prospered, and moved our babes to better quarters, as I wished. I will seek her."
Looking upward, his glance fell on the tall towers of the mill, and hit keen eyes brightened.
"I will ask Philip, our childhood's friend. He will know," he said eagerly, and ran up the hill.
As he drew near, a ruddy light blazed from the rear of Philip's house, and he hurried thru the gar