Philip thought
so,--when once more at home in England with his recovered "treasure of
the golden midnight" he saw her, like a rose refreshed by rain, raise
her bright head in renewed strength and beauty, with the old joyous
lustre dancing in her eyes, and the smile of a perfect happiness like
summer sunshine on her fair face. Lord Winsleigh thought so;--he was
spending the winter in Rome with his wife and son,--and there among the
shadows of the Caesars, his long, social martyrdom ended, and he
regained what he had once believed lost for ever--his wife's affection.
Clara gentle, wistful, with the softening shadow of a great sorrow and a
great repentance in her once too-brilliant eyes, was a very different
Clara to the dashing "beauty" who had figured so conspicuously in London
society. She clung to her husband with an almost timid eagerness as
though she dreaded losing him--and when he was not with her, she seemed
to rely entirely on her son, whom she watched with a fond, almost
melancholy pride, and who responded to her tenderness though proffered
so late, with the full-hearted frankness of his impulsive, ardent
nature.
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