curate, young Mr. Allison would have been lectured for staring all church-time at Miss White, instead of minding his Rubrics. At first Phebe treated him with the highest disdain. To leave Miss Nell, or the chance of having the sole charge of the young Glynne when he was at home for the holidays, for the love of the grandest man in the world, was "a feckless thing indeed!" But before we left the village, Phebe had condescended to walk with him once or twice. Moreover, he and his mother had been invited to a solemn tea at the Whites, at which Phebe presided as high-priestess. Finally, as we left the village, on our journey home, Phebe waved her handkerchief, halftimidly, to a head peeping over a hedge; while she informed me, at night, "Mither had been sore angered at her thinking so much more of Miss Nell and the darling boy, instead of her ain parents; and father had hinted they were getting auld, and should want Phebe to be near them, their last days." "Which you can be, you know, Phebe dear, settled at Archie Allison's farm." "Hoot! Miss Nell, I never thought to be angered at ye." own. We stayed a fortnight at Erlscourt, and finished with Selina, whose children had hearts like her They vied with each other, in their little tender ways, to wait on and amuse the dear, blind uncle, as they called him; and would court to stand by his chair, while he passed his fingers over their little profiles, and guessed who was like papa, and who was like mamma. And joyful were the cries, and much the surprise, when he confidently asserted, that Selina was more like her mother than any, her exact image, hair and all. and would be There was a genuine, holy happiness in this house that did me good. They thought not much of themselves, while they knew their example was spreading; like the gentle stir that a soft wind makes over still waters, so did their neighbours feel their hearts moved with the wish to be like them. I found a foreign letter waiting for me on my return home. The hand-writing I knew, though I had never had a letter from Glynne before. The firm characters were unmistakable, if seen but once; and without pretending to the art of divination, I could have told that the writer was distinguished for originality of some sort by it. I looked at the letter for some time without opening it, wondering why he wrote to me. I wished some one was by-Selina, Richard-one to whom I could say, carelessly, "Open that letter, and read it first." Then if there was any thing strange, any odd event-a misery to hear, a happiness to be told-I could bear it better. It would be lessened-I mean the shock. It must be opened, surely it was of importance, or why did he write it? It was done at last, in a sort of desperation. Within was "the lady's" scrawling, ill-formed characters all over. Glynne had only directed the letter. Nostay. There are a few firm lines in the midst of the faint, ill-designed ones. "We talk often of you, my dear Uriel," wrote "the Lady," "and I always tell my Lord there is no one I like so well. And when I ask him the reason, he says, 'I suppose it is because she seldom thinks of herself.' It is such a pity, dear, that I am always obliged to do so, otherwise I would try to be like you.' Then came Glynne's remark. "Reasoning by analogy, Nellie, the seed sown is budding now. I tell my Lady, except in point of size, she can soon imitate you; and she is going to set about it. Wish us success, or you are no true Nellie." The poor Lady! how nice of her to begin to think at all. Well! this was news indeed, and ought certainly to have been heralded in by Glynne's handwriting. CHAPTER XXIV. "The sweetest joy, the wildest woe, is love.' The taint of earth, the odour of the skies Is in it. Would that I were ought but man! The death of brutes, the immortality Of fiend or angel better seems than all The doubtful prospects, of our painted dust. NELLIE, it sounds ungrateful, but I am glad to be at home," said my guardian. "I can go about here by myself, and be no trouble to you." "You know you are no trouble." Thanks, sweet Nell." |