'Keek into the draw-well,
Janet, Janet,
There ye'll see your bonny sell,
My jo Janet.'

It was at this time that Lady Rotherwood and her daughter arrived at Devereux Castle, and Mr. Mohun was obliged to go to meet her there, leaving his three daughters to spend a long winter evening by themselves, in their doleful and dismal way, as Lily called it.

The evening had closed in, but they did not ring for candles, lest they should make it seem longer; and Jane was just beginning to laugh at Emily for the deplorable state of her frock and collar, tumbled with lying on the sofa, when the three girls all started at the unexpected sound of a ring at the front door.

With a rapid and joyful suspicion who it might be, Emily and Lilias sprang to the door, Jane thrust the poker into the fire, in a desperate attempt to produce a flame, drove an arm-chair off the hearth-rug, whisked an old shawl out of sight, and flew after them into the hall, just as the deep tones of a well-known voice were heard greeting old Joseph.

'William!' cried the girls. 'Oh! is it you? Are you not afraid of the scarlet fever?'

'No, who has it?'

'We have had it, but we are quite well now. How cold you are!'

'But where is my father?'

'Gone to Hetherington with Robert, to meet Aunt Rotherwood. Come into the drawing-room.'

Here Emily glided off to perform a hurried toilette.

'And the little ones?'

'At Broomhill. Mrs. Weston was so kind as to take them out of the way of the infection,' said Lily.

'Oh! William, those Westons!'

'Westons, what Westons? Not those I knew at Brighton?'

'The very same,' said Lily. 'They have taken the house at Broomhill. Oh! they have been so very kind, I do not know what would have become of us without Alethea.'

'Why did you not tell me they were living here? And you like them?'

'Like them! No one can tell the comfort Alethea has been. She came to us and nursed us, and has been my great support.'

'And Phyllis and Ada are with them?'

'Yes, they have been at Broomhill these six weeks, and more.'

Here Emily came in and told William that his room was ready, and Rachel on the stairs wishing to see the Captain.

'How well he looks!' cried Lily, as he closed the door; 'it is quite refreshing to see any one looking so strong and bright.'

'And more like Sir Maurice than ever,' said Emily.

'Ah! but Claude is more like,' said Lily, 'because he is pale.'

'Well,' said Jane, 'do let us in the meantime make the room look more fit to be seen before he comes down.'

The alacrity which had long been wanting to Lilias and Jane had suddenly returned, and they succeeded in making the room look surprisingly comfortable, compared with its former desolate aspect, before William came down, and renewed his inquiries after all the family.

'And how is my father's deafness?' was one of his questions.

'Worse,' said Emily. 'I am afraid all the younger ones will learn to vociferate. He hears no one well but ourselves.'

'Oh! and Alethea Weston,' said Lily. 'Her voice is so clear and distinct, that she hardly ever raises it to make him hear. And have you ever heard her sing?'

'Yes, she sings very well. I cannot think why you never told me they were living here.'

'Because you never honour us with your correspondence,' said Emily; 'if you had vouchsafed to write to your sisters you could not have escaped hearing of the Westons.'

'And has Mr. Weston given up the law?'

'No, he only came home in the vacation,' said Emily. 'Did you know they had lost two daughters?'

'I saw it in the paper. Emma and Lucy were nice girls, but not equal to Miss Weston. What a shock to Mrs. Weston!'

'Yes, she quite lost her health, and the doctors said she must move into the country directly. Mrs. Carrington, who is some distant connection, told them of this place, and they took it rather hastily.'

'Do they like it?'

'Oh yes, very much!' said Emily. 'Mrs. Weston is very fond of the garden, and drives about in the pony-carriage, and it is quite pleasant to see how she admires the views.'

'And,' added Lily, 'Alethea walks with us, and sings with me, and teaches at school, and knows all the poor people.'

'I must go and see those children to-morrow,' said William.

The evening passed very pleasantly; and perhaps, in truth, Captain Mohun and his sisters were surprised to find each other so agreeable; for, in the eyes of the young ladies, he was by far the most awful person in the family.

When he had been last at home Harry's recent death had thrown a gloom over the whole family, and he had especially missed him. Himself quick, sensible, clever, and active, he was intolerant of opposite qualities, and the principal effect of that visit to Beechcroft was to make all the younger ones afraid of him, to discourage poor Claude, and to give to himself a gloomy remembrance of that home which had lost its principal charms in his mother and Harry.

He had now come home rather from a sense of duty than an expectation of pleasure, and he was quite surprised to find how much more attractive the New Court had become. Emily and Lilias were now conversible and intelligent companions, better suited to him than Eleanor had ever been, and he had himself in these four years acquired a degree of gentleness and consideration which prevented him from appearing so unapproachable as in days of old. This was especially the case with regard to Claude, whose sensitive and rather timid nature had in his childhood suffered much from William's boyish attempts to make him manly, and as he grew older, had almost felt himself despised; but now William appreciated his noble qualities, and was anxious to make amends for his former unkindness.

Claude came home from Oxford, not actually ill, but in the ailing condition in which he often was, just weak enough to give his sisters a fair excuse for waiting upon him, and petting him all day long. About the same time Phyllis and Adeline came back from Broomhill, and there was great joy at the New Court at the news that Mrs. Hawkesworth was the happy mother of a little boy.

Claude was much pleased by being asked by Eleanor to be godfather to his little nephew, whose name was to be Henry. Perhaps he hoped, what Lilias was quite sure of, that Eleanor did not think him unworthy to stand in Harry's place.

The choice of the other sponsors did not meet with universal approbation. Emily thought it rather hard that Mr. Hawkesworth's sister, Mrs. Ridley, should have been chosen before herself, and both she and Ada would have greatly preferred either Lord Rotherwood, Mr. Devereux, or William, to Mr. Ridley, while Phyllis had wanderings of her own how Claude could be godfather without being present at the christening.

One evening Claude was writing his answer to Eleanor, sitting at the sofa table where a small lamp was burning. Jane, attracted by its bright and soft radiance, came and sat down opposite to him with her work.

'What a silence!' said Lily, after about a quarter of an hour.

'What made you start, Jane?' said William.

'Did I?' said Jane.

'My speaking, I suppose,' said Lily, 'breaking the awful spell of silence.'

'How red you look, Jane. What is the matter?' said William.

'Do I?' asked Jane, becoming still redder.

'It is holding your face down over that baby's hood,' said Emily, 'you will sacrifice the colour of your nose to your nephew.'

Claude now asked Jane for the sealing-wax, folded up his letter, sealed it, put on a stamp, and as Jane was leaving the room at bedtime, said, 'Jenny, my dear, as you go by, just put that letter in the post-bag.'

Jane obeyed, and left the room. Claude soon after took the letter out of the bag, went to Emily's door, listened to ascertain that Jane was not there, and then knocked and was admitted.

'I could not help coming,' said he, 'to tell you of the trap in which Brownie has been caught.'

'Ah!' said Lily, 'I fancied I saw her peeping slyly at your letter.'

'Just so,' said Claude, 'and I hope she has experienced the truth of an old proverb.'

'Oh! tell us what you have said,' cried the sisters.

Claude read, 'Jane desires me to say that a hood for the baby shall be sent in the course of a week, and she hopes that it may be worn at the christening. I should rather say I hope it may be lost in the transit, for assuredly the head that it covers must be infected with something far worse than the scarlet fever--the fever of curiosity, the last quality which I should like my godson to possess. My only consolation is, that he will see the full deformity of the vice, as, poor little fellow, he becomes acquainted with "that worst of plagues, a prying maiden aunt." If Jane was simply curious, I should not complain, but her love of investigation is not directed to what ought to be known, but rather to find out some wretched s............