rmitted--day followed day in the calm
retreat of Brook-Green,--when, one morning, Mrs. Leslie, with a letter
in her hand, sought Lady Vargrave, who was busied in tending the flowers
of a small conservatory which she had added to the cottage, when,
from various motives, and one in especial powerful and mysterious, she
exchanged for so sequestered a home the luxurious villa bequeathed to
her by her husband.

To flowers--those charming children of Nature, in which our age can take
the same tranquil pleasure as our youth--Lady Vargrave devoted much of
her monotonous and unchequered time. She seemed to love them almost as
living things; and her memory associated them with hours as bright and
as fleeting as themselves.

"My dear friend," said Mrs. Leslie, "I have news for you. My daughter,
Mrs. Merton, who has been in Cornwall on a visit to her husband's
mother, writes me word that she will visit us on her road home to the
Rectory in B-----shire. She will not put you much out of the way," added
Mrs. Leslie, smiling, "for Mr. Merton will not accompany her; she only
brings her daughter Caroline, a lively, handsome, intelligent girl, who
will be enchanted with Evelyn. All you will regret is, that she comes to
terminate my visit, and take me away with her. If you can forgive that
offence, you will have nothing else to pardon."

Lady Vargrave replied with her usual simple kindness; but she was
evidently nervous at the visit of a stranger (for she had never yet seen
Mrs. Merton), and still more distressed at the thought of losing Mrs.
Leslie a week or two sooner than had been anticipated. However,
Mrs. Leslie hastened to reassure her. Mrs. Merton was so quiet and
good-natured, the wife of a country clergyman with simple tastes; and
after all, Mrs. Leslie's visit might last as long, if Lady Vargrave
would be contented to extend her hospitality to Mrs. Merton and
Caroline.

When the visit was announced to Evelyn, her young heart was susceptible
only of pleasure and curiosity. She had no friend of her own age; she
was sure she should like the grandchild of her dear Mrs. Leslie.

Evelyn, who had learned betimes, from the affectionate solicitude of her
nature, to relieve her mother of such few domestic cares as a home so
quiet, with an establishment so regular, could afford, gayly busied
herself in a thousand little preparations. She filled the rooms of
the visitors with flowers (not dreaming that any one could fancy them
unwholes