And ever they rode northward, and
home drew nearer. Looking back upon those long hours spent alone
together, Mora realised how simply and easily she had grown used to
being with Hugh, and how entirely this was due to his unselfishness and
tact. He talked with her constantly; yet never of his own feelings
regarding her.
He told her of his adventures in Eastern lands; of the happenings in
England during the past eight years, so far as he had been able to
learn them; of his home and property; of hers, and of the welcome which
awaited her from her people.
He never spoke of the Convent, nor of the eventful days through which
he and she had so recently passed.
So successfully did he dominate her mind in this, that almost it seemed
to her she too was returning home after a long absence in a foreign
land.
Her mind awoke to unrestrained enjoyment of each hour, and to the keen
anticipation of the traveller homeward bound.
Each day spent in Hugh's company seemed to wipe out one, or more, of
the intervening years, so that when, toward evening, on the seventh
day, the grey turrets of her old home came in sight, it might have been
but yesterday they had parted, on those same battlements, and she had
watched him ride away, until the firwood from which they were now
emerging, had hidden him from view.
Kneeling at her casement, her mind seemed lost in a whirlpool of
emotion, as she reviewed the hour of their arrival.
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