CHAPTER IV.

"It is not in the mountains;
Nor the palaces of pride,
That Love will fold his wings up,

And rejoicingly abide;

But in meek and gentle natures

His home is ever found,

As the lark that sings in Heaven

Builds his nest upon the ground."

LAMAN BLANCHARD.

THE next day, little Neville was sent for early, to go out with his father. Selina and I were admitted to the bedside of "the Lady," for the settling of plans, as she said.

She strongly objected to my leaving.

"I am so weak, as you know, Selina; I

am not fit to be troubled with the care of such a strong, healthy fellow. Uriel seems to like it."

"Uriel thinks it very strange to stay with you, in Glynne's house, after what occurred between them," said Selina.

"Dear me! why? What shall I do about little Harry?" And "the Lady's" voice was

tremulous with tears.

"Oh! she will stay, and do all she can for you, but you must make the arrangement yourself."

"I make no arrangements-I don't know how; and she learnt piquet so quickly."

"What would you wish her to do?"

"To live with me always. You know my Lord is shortly going away; and she is just the sort of person I like to have; the nicest little thing, with such a merry laugh."

“I will remain very willingly," said I.

"How nice! Then do go, my dear girls, and let me sleep a little. My Lord says he should like to have me in town for a time, before he goes to Ireland, and I am quite fatigued thinking of the journey."

So we left her; and Selina consulted Glynne about our plans; and it was agreed I and Neville should go home with Selina and remain there, while "the Lady" and he were in town. Then, when he went to Ireland, I should be ready to accompany her into Derbyshire, where they usually spent the winter. Harrington Court was "the Lady's" own property, and there she delighted to dwell. At times, that is; for now

and then, she was ennuyèed even there.

I did not see Glynne myself until the evening, when he again bowed to me, after the fashion of an every-day common mode of greeting. While we three conversed together, he appeared absorbed in the paper. When I played at Selina's request, he put down the paper and talked to them. A little while before we retired, he left the room, and I did not see him again, as Neville was carried into his dressing-room to bid him farewell in the morning. Selina wished to start early on account of the children, and to prevent Mr. Graham setting out the next day to join us.

So now I was happy. Once more I was restored to all I loved. The dreadful and dreaded meeting was over. I was with my Selina, as

much loved as ever, and I had my boy, my darling, my charge, all to myself. I had not before my eyes that mountain of reproof to me, that heavy weigher-down of all my feelings, for so she was, whenever I looked at her. She was like a gigantic night-mare. I wanted a little peace and time for thought and resolution. I wanted space and opportunity to pray to God, to thank Him, yet, oh! how much more to beseech the redeeming mercy of the Saviour's love, to strengthen, help, encourage me; to fill me with high purposes, singleness of heart, steady perseverance, unwavering duty. I wanted a space of time, in which to wrestle in prayer with God, that through the Divine Lover of souls I might atone for the past and live for the future.

I did not deserve the love that was given me, on my restoration to Willow Wood. My uncle said, "Thank God, child, you are returned. 'A burnt child dreads the fire.' I don't suppose you will leave us again: so sit down, be comfortable, and let me hear no more about it."

My uncle was a little sore, it seemed, by this speech. He was a man of very tender con

science, and perhaps thought he was in some measure to blame for any strange fate occurring to his sister's child, the child left to his care. So I knelt before him, and asked for his pardon and blessing. He gave both with the tears in his eyes, and thus the past was between us two as if it had never been.

My aunt was devoured by curiosity. She must know all that had occurred to me-where I had been—with whom living. She was sure to be asked, and must have something to tell. It would look strange, not to say wrong, if she had not the whole story, correct and full, to tell her neighbours. I had to write to Isabel and my guardian. Isabel was now the Countess de Lannas, and from all accounts filled the situation well.

Also I wrote to Mrs. Bernard and Phebe, telling them all the truth.

Selina obtained their answers from me. She wished to keep them, she said.

I had a message from Lady Maria, excusing herself from an interview, as she was suffering from a severe cold, and feared I might take the infection.