For they
were truly congenial spirits, and poor Fordham was more experienced
in the lore of suffering and resignation than his twenty-seven years
seemed to imply.
Meantime, the work of editing the "Traveller's Joy" was carried on.
Some five-and-twenty copies were printed, containing all the
favourite papers—-a specimen from each contributor, from a shocking
bad riddle of Cecil's to Dr. Medlicott's commentary upon the myths of
the nursery; from Armine's original acrostic on the "Rhine and
Rhone," down to the "Phantom Blackcock of Kilnaught;" the best
illustrations from Mrs. Brownlow's sketches, and Dr. Medlicott's
clever pen-and-ink outlines were reproduced; and, with much pains and
expense, Fordham had procured photographs of all the marked spots,
from Schwarenbach even to Fordham Church, so that Cecil and Esther
considered it a graceful memorial of their courtship.
"So very kind of Duke," they said.
Esther had quite forgotten all her dread of him, and never was
happier than when he was listening to all that had amused her in the
gaieties which she liked much better in the past than in the present.
The whole was finished at last, after many a pleasant discussion and
reunion scene, and the books were sent to the binder. Fordham was
eager for them to come home, and rather annoyed at some delays which
made it doubtful whether they would be received before he, with his
mother and sister, were to leave town.
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