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Chapter LXIX
Kit was no sluggard next morning, but, springing from his bed some
time before day, began to prepare for his welcome expedition. The
hurry of spirits consequent upon the events of yesterday, and the
unexpected intelligence he had heard at night, had troubled his sleep
through the long dark hours, and summoned such uneasy dreams
about his pillow that it was rest to rise.
But, had it been the beginning of some great labour with the same end
in view - had it been the commencement of a long journey, to be
performed on foot in that inclement season of the year, to be pursued
under very privation and difficulty, and to be achieved only with great
distress, fatigue, and suffering - had it been the dawn of some painful
enterprise, certain to task his utmost powers of resolution and
endurance, and to need his utmost fortitude, but only likely to end, if
happily achieved, in good fortune and delight to Nell - Kit's cheerful
zeal would have been as highly roused: Kit's ardour and impatience
would have been, at least, the same.
Nor was he alone excited and eager. Before he had been up a quarter
of an hour the whole house were astir and busy. Everybody hurried to
do something towards facilitating the preparations. The single
gentleman, it is true, could do nothing himself, but he overlooked
everybody else and was more locomotive than anybody. The work of
packing and making ready went briskly on, and by daybreak every
preparation for the journey was completed. Then Kit began to wish
they had not been quite so nimble; for the travelling-carriage which
had been hired for the occasion was not to arrive until nine o'clock,
and there was nothing but breakfast to fill up the intervening blank of
one hour and a half. Yes there was, though. There was Barbara.
Barbara was busy, to be sure, but so much the better - Kit could help
her, and that would pass away the time better than any means that
could be devised. Barbara had no objection to this arrangement, and
Kit, tracking out the idea which had come upon him so suddenly
overnight, began to think that surely Barbara was fond of him, and
surely he was fond of Barbara.
Now, Barbara, if the truth must.be told - as it must and ought to be -
Barbara seemed, of all the little household, to take least pleasure in
the bustle of the occasion; and when Kit, in the openness of his heart,
told her how glad and overjoyed it made him, Barbara became more
downcast still, and seemed to have even less pleasure in it than
before!
'You have not been home so long, Christopher,' said Barbara - and it
is impossible to tell how carelessly she said it - 'You have not been
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