of
spirit and great vital energy fatigued him. The cousins continued their
amusements and their studies steadily together for the next two years,
and although Cecil still called Anna as wild as a hawk, yet he never got
into any serious difficulty, but he applied to her to help him out of
it, whether it was in solving a problem or otherwise; carrying out Dr.
Strickland's teaching he appeared to feel that his strength lay with her
and she in her turn was rejoiced to help him.

There are natures which seem made to help others, they find their
greatest happiness in it; and so it was with Anna, the more he needed
her help the more she delighted in giving it. Cecil's health was greatly
improved by the climate of England, and with stronger health came
stronger nerves. He now no longer thought his cousin without them, but
he thought she knew how to control them; in fact, they had grown to love
each other with that certain kind of cousinly affection which one often
sees, and which is very true and lifelong, but has not the rapture, the
intensity, nor the anguish, which belong to really falling in love.

It was a day in sweet summer time, all roses and beauty, when the young
people met as usual in Lady Dorothy's walk; it was their favorite place,
and here they would ramble up and down, and sit by the fountain, and
talk, and paint, and read for hours together; and the next day it was
the same thing, and the next, and the next, for they never grew tired of
the place, or of each other. They were now pacing the long walk, and
although they were past the age of eighteen, they still continued their
studies, but were permitted to select them.

"What a pleasant thing it is, Cecil, to follow out one's own life and
study what we wish," said Anna. "I am so glad to be free, no more
construing sentences, no more conjugating verbs, no more solving
problems; I always hated all of that dry stuff."

"What are you going to do, then," inquired Cecil.

"Firstly, I shall spend more time with my mother, more time in the study
of my music, and read all the poetry I wish to, and ride on horseback,
and dance, and, of course, help my mother more in taking care of the
peasantry."

"Now, Cecil, what shall you do?"

"Firstly, I think I shall paint, and rove about among this beautiful
scenery," he replied. "I shall paint until I feel sure that I shall take
the first prize in the grand exhibition; I will not exhibit one stroke
of my brush until then."