as in German, the other in English. The German Bible she had
given to her daughter, who presented the English one to her mother. On
the fly-leaf of the one she held in her hand were written the words, "To
my much-loved mother, from Hilda." Ah, where was that daughter now? And
if she still possessed the little brown German Bible, had she learned to
love and prize its words as her mother had done her English Bible? Then
carefully locking up her treasured book and portraits, she went
downstairs, to wait in solitary grandeur for her husband's coming into
the drawing-room.

CHAPTER XI.

IN THE RIVIERA.

"My God, I thank Thee who hast made
The earth so bright,
So full of splendour and of joy,
Beauty, and light;
So many glorious things are here,
Noble and right."

More than four years had elapsed since Frida had left her home in the
Black Forest. April sunshine was lighting up the grey olive woods and
glistening on the dark-green glossy leaves of the orange-trees at
Cannes, and playing on the deep-blue waters of the Mediterranean there.

Some of these beams fell also round the heads of two young girls as they
sat under the shade of a palm tree in a lovely garden there belonging to
the Villa des Rosiers, where they were living. A lovely scene was before
their eyes. In front of them, like gems in the deep-blue sea, were the
isles of St. Marguerite and St. Honorat, and to the west were the
beautiful Estrelle Mountains. Around them bloomed masses of lovely
roses, and the little yellow and white noisettes climbed up the various
tall trees in the garden, and flung their wealth of flowers in festoons
down to the ground.

The two girls gazed in silence for some minutes at the lovely scene.
Then the youngest of the two, a dark-eyed, golden-haired girl, said,
addressing her companion, "Is it not lovely, Adeline? The whole of
nature seems to be rejoicing."

"Yes, indeed," answered her companion. "And I am sure I owe much to the
glorious sunshine, for, by God's blessing, it has been the means of
restoring my health. I am quite well now, and the doctor says I may
safely winter in England next season. Won't it be delightful, Frida, to
be back in dear old England once more?"

"Ah! you forget, Adeline, that I do not know the land of your birth,
though I quite believe it was my mother's birthplace as well, and
perhaps my own also. I do often long to see it, and fancy if I were