re making for yourself!'

CHAPTER XIX.

MAY DAY.

It was months before Mabel could really be said to have regained her
health and strength. The dreary winter had passed away, and the tender
leaves, and blossoms of April, had put forth their signs of returning
spring.

It must not however be supposed that the cold and dark season had been
an unprofitable one; far from it. Though Mabel had been an occasional
sufferer, during all that time, she and Clara had diligently attended to
their studies, and had, Aunt Mary said, made rapid advance; while the
inward change which had been experienced by the invalid left no room for
regret either to herself or her friends.

Mabel knew and felt that she had been healed of a far worse malady than
any bodily one, and though, as in the case of rheumatic pains, hidden
evils still gave occasional inward spasms, she had learned at whose
hands she was to receive the healing draught, and she never failed to
apply for it in the hour of need.

I ought perhaps to have informed my readers, that soon after Mabel had
been taken ill, Mr. and Mrs. Maitland, with their two daughters, Dora
and Annie, had gone to spend the winter months in the west of England,
with that lady's mother, who was now far advanced in years, and very
desirous of having the company of this her last surviving child, and to
feel the cheering influence of lively girlhood in the society of her
truly loving and attentive granddaughters.

And now, as I have before said, the winter had gone, and dewy April,
with its smiles and tears, its soft green, tender leaves, its embryo
buds and blossoms, its morning salutations which blithe birds sang in
the half-clothed trees or in the air, made fragrant by the breath of
primrose pale, or violet blue, or polyanthus bright--yes, dewy April,
notwithstanding all these delights, was about to take its departure, in
order to make way for the pleasant month of May, whose praises Aunt Mary
celebrated in rhyme. Oak Villa was indeed a highly privileged home; no
young girl, whose mind was properly balanced, could have considered it
otherwise. Its owner was cheerful as the lark, industrious as the bee,
thoughtful and provident as the ant, benevolent as!--well, I won't liken
her to any of our four-footed friends; indeed, just at this moment, I
must confess that no comparison occurs to me: but Aunt Mary loved her
nieces, delighted to impart to them those stores of knowledge to which
she was