there was anything stern or severe in the lady's appearance to
cause the hush, for a look of calmness and great sweetness was in her
countenance, but through it there was also an appearance of sadness that
touched every heart, and although it would not silence any true young
joy, had certainly the effect of quieting anything boisterous or rude.

The "gentle lady" of Harcourt Manor was the name Mrs. Willoughby had
gone by for some years. It was pretty well known that a deep sorrow had
fallen upon her whilst still in the prime of life; and those there were
who said they could recall a time when, instead of that look of calm
peace and chastened sorrow, there were visible on her face only haughty
pride and fiery temper.

It was hard to believe that that had ever been the case; but if so, it
was but one of many instances in which God's declaration proved true,
that though "no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but
grievous, nevertheless _afterward_ it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of
righteousness."

Mr. Willoughby, a man older by some years than his wife, was a man who
had long been more feared than beloved; and the heavy trial, which had
affected him no less than his wife, had apparently hardened instead of
softening his whole nature, though a severe illness had greatly
mitigated, it was thought, some of his sternness.

The party of which we are writing was given in honour of the return from
abroad of the heir of the manor, a distant relation of the Willoughbys,
Mr. Reginald Gower, whom we have written of before. For five years he
had been living abroad, and had returned only a month ago to the house
of his widowed mother, the Hon. Mrs. Gower of Lilyfield, a small though
pretty property adjoining Harcourt Manor.

Just as Mrs. Willoughby entered the grounds, Reginald and his mother did
so also, although by a different way, and a few minutes passed ere they
met.

The young man walked eagerly up to the hostess, a smile of real pleasure
lighting up his handsome face at the sight of the lady he really loved,
and who had from his boyish days been a kind friend to him. But as he
greeted her, the look of sadness on her countenance struck him, and some
secret thought sent a pang through him, and for the moment blanched his
cheek. Was it possible, he asked himself, that he had it in his power,
by the utterance of a few words, to dispel that look of deep sadness
from the face of one of the dearest friends, next to