some measure, of the disturbance in "the Lady's" temper; and that removed, or an enlivening and fortunate game of piquet, or last, though not least, our return, restored her to her usual state of peaceable inanition. During the remainder of my stay in London, I went to pay a visit to Aunt Scann. Truly it was not a matter of wonder any longer to me, that Aunt Scann was inadvertantly always placing herself in other people's situations. Her own was about the most uncomfortable and disagreeable I should have thought mortal could possess, only I suppose nothing is so bad but that worse may be found. She lived with a brother, in a cold, dark, clammy house, into which the sun never strayed -within which no cheerful, blazing fire was ever seen. The very light of a candle produced a glow, yet the glow was bitterly purchased. Mr. Scann was a miser. I thought he made his home so unbearable to frighten Miss Scann away. But for some secret reason she clung to him through it all. And, the more miserable the day, the more cross he might be, the more cheerful and pleasant did she try to be. No, not try-she was. Truly," said I to myself, "Aunt Scann reads us a lesson, as well as many other people, if we did but know. I think she persists in living with this half-dead brother, that she may keep within him a little flickering of life and charity." She had not even the consolation of a pet animal or bird. She had had a canary, but she did not at all wonder that in its situation it had died. She petted a kitten to the extreme verge of spoiling, but no sooner did it become a cat, than it eloped after a ray of sunshine, and “of course, my dear, had I been in the situation of that cat I should have done precisely the same.' CHAPTER XIX. "So fresh, so pure, the woods, the sky, the air, JAMES MONTGOMERY. NEVILLE GRANGE was beautiful. Placed on the sloping sides of a green and irregular hill, it looked down with an air of quiet grandeur on the village below, which was encircled by an ever-changing river, whose meandering could be seen in many silver turns from the windows of the Grange. Without being thickly wooded, there were magnificent single specimens of every forest tree, and picturesque groupings of various kinds. The masses of rich pasture showed off to advantage the exquisite shape and form VOL. III. of the beech and oak trees, while the cool green hue refreshed the wearied town-dusted eyes. The house itself was turreted, with casemented windows, irregular parts added on. It seemed as if, at one time, a castellated mansion had been designed, but the builder's fancy had changed, and leaving the tower as it was begun, had carried on the fashion of an Elizabethan house. Its irregularity and quaintness was its beauty. Within the little nooks and corners of its irregularity were trained shrubs and trees, rare for England to see flourishing out of doors. They were in somewhat wild luxuriousness. No one had lived there since Glynne's father had died. It was pleasant to see the ardour and pleasure with which Glynne devoted himself to the restoration and beautifying of his ancestral homehis own. But I did not think, as "the Lady" hoped, that he would the less desert his Irish property. He had duties there as well. She had vowed nothing should ever take her there; people were always shot, she understood, in Ireland, whether they liked it or not! We were very warmly welcomed in this country. The old family returned to their old halls; it was time indeed they should; and there was great sincerity in all the expressions of joy. For the Lord of Glynne's name appeared to command respect and esteem, even though he had never been among them since he was a boy. So, as I said to Neville, See, what it is to be a good man and true -рара is loved here for what people have said of him far away." "I will be a good boy and true. Phebe has not put me into the corner for a fortnight. "Ha! indeed, if I was papa's boy I would never get into that corner again." Papa's boy took some heed of this remark, for Phebe complained to me "she feared he was getting too good to live." Not so with "the poor Lady." At first, she was highly charmed at all the visits, and welcomes, and rejoicings. Then came the fact, that they were all Glynne honours. The name of Harrington was almost unknown—and she |