tired to look at on Saturday.'

Sarah's rounds again brought her in sight; Violet crossed the grass,
and the next moment was under the verandah with the little long-robed
chrysalis shape in her arms, declaring he was growing quite good, and
getting fat already; and though to John's eyes the face was as much
as ever like a very wizened old man, he could not but feel heartfelt
pleasure in seeing her for once enjoying a young mother's exultation.

'Poor thing!' said he to himself, as she carried the babe upstairs, 'she
has done too much, thought too much, felt too much for her years. Life
has begun before she has strength for the heat and burthen of the day.
The only hope is in keeping those overtasked spirits at rest, guarding
her from care, and letting her return to childhood. And should this work
fall on me, broken down in spirits and energy, with these long-standing
habits of solitude and silence? If Helen was but here!'

He was relieved by Violet's reappearance at dinner-time, full of smiles,
proud of Johnnie's having slept half the morning, and delighted with
"Mary Barton", which, on his system of diversion for her mind, he had
placed in her way. She was amazed and charmed at finding that he could
discuss the tale with interest and admiration.

'Arthur calls such books trash,' said she.

'He reads them, though.'

'Yes, he always reads the third volume while I read the first.'

'The best way. I always begin at the end to judge whether a book is
worth reading.'

'I saw a French book on the table; are you reading it?'

'Consulting it. You are welcome to it.'

'I think,' she said, timidly, 'I ought to read some history and French,
or I shall never be fit to teach my little boy.'

'I have a good many books at home, entirely at your service.'

'Thank you, thank you! I thought last winter if I could but have read, I
should not have minded half so much.'

'And why could you not?'

'I had finished all my own books, and they cost too much to hire, so
there was only a great Roman History that Arthur had had at school. I
could not read more than thirty pages of that a day, it was so stupid.'

'And you read those as a task! Very wise!'

'Matilda said my education was incomplete, and she feared I should be
found deficient; and mamma told me to make a point of reading something
improving every day, but I have not begun again.'

'I have some work on my hands,' said John. 'I was with Percy
Fotheringham eight years