Bespeak the gentle, mirthful child;

But in her forehead's broad expanse,

Her chastened tones, her thoughtful glance,

Is mingled, with the child's light glee,

The modest maiden's dignity.

 

One summer's day, two years after the ball and review, Mary Ross and her father were finishing their early dinner, when she said,--

 

'If you don't want me this afternoon, papa, I think I shall walk to Hollywell. You know Eveleen de Courcy is there.'

 

'No, I did not. What has brought her?'

 

'As Charles expresses it, she has over-polked herself in London, and is sent here for quiet and country air. I want to call on her, and to ask Sir Guy to give me some idea as to the singing the children should practise for the school-feast?'

 

'Then you think Sir Guy will come to the feast?'

 

'I reckon on him to conceal all the deficiencies in the children's singing.'

 

'He won't desert you, as he did Mrs. Brownlow?'

 

'O papa! you surely did not think him to blame in that affair?'

 

'Honestly, Mary, if I thought about the matter at all, I thought it a pity he should go so much to the Brownlows.'

 

'I believe I could tell you the history, if you thought it worth while; and though it may be gossip, I should like you to do justice to Sir Guy.'

 

'Very well; though I don't think there is much danger of my doing otherwise. I only wondered he should become intimate there at all.'

 

'I believe Mrs. Edmonstone thinks it right he should see as much of the world as possible, and not be always at home in their own set.'

 

'Fair and proper.'

 

'You know she has shown him all the people she could,--had Eveleen staying there, and the Miss Nortons, and hunted him out to parties, when he had rather have been at home.'

 

'I thought he was fond of society. I remember your telling me how amused you were with his enjoyment of his first ball.'

 

'Ah! he was two years younger then, and all was new. He seems to me too deep and sensitive not to find more pain than pleasure in commonplace society. I have sometimes seen that he cannot speak either lightly or harshly of what he disapproves, and people don't understand him. I was once sitting next him, when there was some talking going on about an elopement; he did not laugh, looked almost distressed, and at last said in a very low voice, to me, "I wish people would not laugh about such things."'

 

'He is an extraordinary mixture of gaiety of heart, and seriousness.'

 

'Well, when Mrs. Brownlow had her nieces with her, and was giving those musical parties, his voice made him valuable; and Mrs. Edmonstone told him he ought to go to them. I believe he liked it at first, but he found there was no end to it; it took up a great deal of time, and was a style of thing altogether that was not desirable. Mrs Edmonstone thought at first his reluctance was only shyness and stay-at-home nonsense, that ought to be overcome; but when she had been there, and saw how Mrs. Brownlow beset him, and the unpleasant fuss they made about his singing, she quite came round to his mind, and was very sorry she had exposed him to so much that was disagreeable.'

 

'Well, Mary, I am glad to hear your account. My impression arose from something Philip Morville said.'

 

'Captain Morville never can approve of anything Sir Guy does! It is not like Charles.'

 

'How improved Charles Edmonstone is. He has lost that spirit of repining and sarcasm, and lives as if he had an object.'

 

'Yes; he employs himself now, and teaches Amy to do the same. You know, after the governess went, we were afraid little Amy would never do anything but wait on Charles, and idle in her pretty gentle way; but when he turned to better things so did she, and her mind has been growing all this time. Perhaps you don't see it, for she has not lost her likeness to a kitten, and looks all demure silence with the elders, but she takes in what the wise say.'

 

'She is a very good little thing; and I dare say will not be the worse for growing up slowly.'

 

'Those two sisters are specimens of fast and slow growth. Laura has always seemed to be so much more than one year older than Amy, especially of late. She is more like five-and-twenty than twenty. I wonder if she overworks herself. But how we have lingered over our dinner!'

 

By half-past three, Mary was entering a copse which led into Mr. Edmonstone's field, when she heard gay tones, and a snatch of one of the sweetest of old songs,--

 

 

Weep no more, lady; lady, weep no more,

Thy sorrow is in vain;

For violets pluck'd, the sweetest showers

Will ne'er make grow again.

 

A merry, clear laugh followed, and a turn in the path showed her Guy, Amy, and Charlotte, busy over a sturdy stock of eglantine. Guy, little changed in these two years,--not much taller, and more agile than robust,--was lopping vigorously with his great pruning-knife, Amabel nursing a bundle of drooping rose branches, Charlotte, her bonnet in a garland of wild sweet-brier, holding the matting and continually getting entangled in the long thorny wreaths.

 

'And here comes the "friar of orders gray," to tell you so,' exclaimed Guy, as Mary, in her gray dress, came on them.

 

'Oh, that is right, dear good friar,' cried Amy.

 

'We are so busy,' said Charlotte; 'Guy has made Mr. Markham send all these choice buds from Redclyffe.'

 

'Not from the park,' said Guy, 'we don't deal much in gardening; but Markham is a great florist, and these are his bounties.'

 

'And are you cutting that beautiful wild rose to pieces?'

 

'Is it not a pity?' said Amy. 'We have used up all the stocks in the garden, and this is to be transplanted in the autumn.'

 

'She has been consoling it all the time by telling it it is for its good,' said Guy; 'cutting off wild shoots, and putting in better things.'

 

'I never said anything so pretty; and, after all, I don't know that the grand roses will be equal to these purple shoots and blushing buds with long whiskers.'

 

'So Sir Guy was singing about the violets plucked to comfort you. But you must not leave off, I want to see how you do it. I am gardener enough to like to look on.'

 

'We have only two more to put in.'

 

Knife and fingers were busy, and Mary admired the dexterity with which the slit was made in the green bark, well armed with firm red thorns, and the tiny scarlet gem inserted, and bound with cotton and matting. At the least critical parts of the work, she asked after the rest of the party, and was answered that papa had driven Charles out in the pony carriage, and that Laura and Eveleen were sitting on the lawn, reading and working with mamma. Eveleen was better, but not strong, or equal to much exertion in the heat. Mary went on to speak of her school feast and ask her questions.

 

'O Guy, you must not go before that!' cried Charlotte.

 

'Are you going away?'

 

'He is very naughty, indeed,' said Charlotte. 'He is going, I don't know where all, to be stupid, and read mathematics.'

 

'A true bill, I am sorry to say,' said Guy; 'I am to join a reading-party for the latter part of the vacation.'

 

'I hope not before Thursday week, though we are not asking you to anything worth staying for.'

 

'Oh, surely you need not go before that!' said Amy, 'need you?'

 

'No; I believe I may stay till Friday, and I should delight in the feast, thank you, Miss Ross,--I want to study such things. A bit more matting, Amy, if you please. There, I think that will do.'

 

'Excellently. Here is its name. See how neatly Charlie has printed it, Mary. Is it not odd, that he prints so well when he writes so badly?'

 

'"The Seven Sisters." There, fair sisterhood, grow and thrive, till I come to transplant you in the autumn. Are there any more?'

 

'No, that is the last. Now, Mary, let us come to mamma.'

 

Guy waited to clear the path of the numerous trailing briery branches, and the others walked on, Amy telling how sorry they were to lose Guy's vacation, but that he thought he could not give time enough to his studies here, and had settled, at Oxford, to make one of a reading-party, under the tutorship of his friend, Mr. Wellwood.

 

'Where do they go?'

 

'It is not settled. Guy wished it to be the sea-side; but Philip has been recommending a farmhouse in Stylehurst parish, rather nearer St. Mildred's Wells than Stylehurst, but quite out in the moor, and an immense way from both.'

 

'Do you think it will be the place?'

 

'Yes; Guy thinks it would suit Mr. Wellwood, because he has friends at St. Mildred's, so he gave his vote for it. He expects to hear how it is settled to-day or to-morrow.'

 

Coming out on the lawn, they found the three ladies sitting under the acacia, with their books and work. Laura did, indeed, look older than her real age, as much above twenty as Amy looked under nineteen. She was prettier than ever; her complexion exquisite in delicacy, her fine figure and the perfect outline of her features more developed; but the change from girl to woman had passed over her, and set its stamp on the anxious blue eye, and almost oppressed brow. Mary thought it would be hard to define where was that difference. It was not want of bloom, for of that Laura had more than any of the others, fresh, healthy, and bright, while Amy was always rather pale, and Lady Eveleen was positively wan and faded by London and late hours; nor was it loss of animation, for Laura talked and laughed with interest and eagerness; nor was it thought, for little Amy, when at rest, wore a meditative, pensive countenance; but there was something either added or taken away, which made it appear that the serenity and carelessness of early youth had fled from her, and the air of the cares of life had come over her.

 

Mary told her plans,--Church service at four, followed by a tea-drinking in the fields; tea in the garden for the company, and play for the school children and all who liked to join them. Every one likes such festivals, which have the recommendation of permitting all to do as they please, bringing friends together in perfect ease and freedom, with an object that raises them above the rank of mere gatherings for the pleasure of rich neighbours.

 

Mrs. Edmonstone gladly made the engagement and Lady Eveleen promised to be quite well, and to teach the children all manner of new games, though she greatly despised the dullness of English children, and had many droll stories of the stupidity of Laura's pupils, communicated to her, with perhaps a little exaggeration, by Charles, and still further embellished by herself, for the purpose of exciting Charlotte's indignation.

 

Mary proceeded to her consultation about the singing, and was conducted by Guy and Amy to the piano, and when her ears could not be indoctrinated by their best efforts, they more than half engaged to walk to East-hill, and have a conversation with the new school-master, whom Mary pitied for having fallen on people so unable to appreciate his musical training as herself and her father. The whole party walked back with her as far as the shade lasted; and at the end of the next field she turned, saw them standing round the stile, thought what happy people they were, and then resumed her wonder whither Laura's youthfulness had flown.

 

The situation of Philip and Laura had not changed. His regiment had never been at any great distance from Hollywell, and he often came, venturing more as Laura learnt to see him with less trepidation. He seldom or never was alone with her; but his influence was as strong as ever, and look, word, and gesture, which she alone could understand, told her what she was to him, and revealed his thoughts. To him she was devoted, all her doings were with a view to please him, and deserve his affection; he was her world, and sole object. Indeed, she was sometimes startled by perceiving that tenderly as she loved her own family, all were subordinate to him. She had long since known the true name of her feelings for him; she could not tell when or how the certainty had come, but she was conscious that it was love that they had acknowledged for one another and that she only lived in the light of his love. Still she did not realize the evil of concealment; it was so deep a sensation of her innermost heart, that she never could imagine revealing it to any living creature, and she had besides so surrendered her judgment to her idol, that no thought could ever cross her that he had enjoined what was wrong. Her heart and soul were his alone, and she left the future to him without an independent desire or reflection. All the embarrassments and discomforts which her secret occasioned her were met willingly for his sake, and these were not a few, though time had given her more self-command, or, perhaps, more properly speaking, had hardened her.

 

She always had a dread of tete-a-tetes and conversations over novels, and these were apt to be unavoidable when Eveleen was at Hollywell. The twilight wanderings on the terrace were a daily habit, and Eveleen almost always paired with her. On this evening in particular, Laura was made very uncomfortable by Eveleen's declaring that it was positively impossible and unnatural that the good heroine of some novel should have concealed her engagement from her parents. Laura could not help saying that there might be many excuses; then afraid that she was exciting suspicion, changed the subject in great haste, and tried to make Eveleen come indoors, telling her she would tire herself to death, and vexed by her cousin's protestations that the fresh cool air did her good. Besides, Eveleen was looking with attentive eyes at another pair who were slowly walking up and down the shady walk that bordered the grass-plot, and now and then standing still to enjoy the subdued silence of the summer evening, and the few distant sounds that marked the perfect lull.

 

'How calm--how beautiful!' murmured Amabel.

 

'It only wants the low solemn surge and ripple of the tide, and its dash on the rocks,' said Guy. 'If ever there was music, it is there; but it makes one think what the ear must be that can take in the whole of those harmonics.'

 

'How I should like to hear it!'

 

'And see it. O Amy! to show you the sunny sea,--the sense of breadth and vastness in that pale clear horizon line, and the infinite number of fields of light between you and it,............