se nature is but too susceptible of
affection. She ought now to see others,--to know her own mind, and not
to be hurried, blindfold and inexperienced, into a step that decides
existence. This is a duty we owe to her,--nay, even to the late Lord
Vargrave, anxious as he was for the marriage. His aim was surely her
happiness, and he would not have insisted upon means that time and
circumstances might show to be contrary to the end he had in view."

"You are right," replied Lady Vargrave. "When my poor husband lay on
his bed of death, just before he summoned his nephew to receive his last
blessing, he said to me, 'Providence can counteract all our schemes.
If ever it should be for Evelyn's real happiness that my wish for her
marriage with Lumley Ferrers should not be fulfilled, to you I must
leave the right to decide on what I cannot foresee. All I ask is that no
obstacle shall be thrown in the way of my wish; and that the child
shall be trained up to consider Lumley as her future husband.' Among his
papers was a letter addressed to me to the same effect; and, indeed, in
other respects that letter left more to my judgment than I had any right
to expect. Oh, I am often unhappy to think that he did not marry one who
would have deserved his affection! and--but regret is useless now."

"I wish you could really feel so," said Mrs. Leslie; "for regret of
another kind still seems to haunt you; and I do not think you have yet
forgotten your early sorrows."

"Ah, how can I?" said Lady Vargrave, with a quivering lip.

At that instant, a light shadow darkened the sunny lawn in front of the
casements, and a sweet, gay young voice was heard singing at a little
distance; a moment more, and a beautiful girl, in the first bloom of
youth, bounded lightly along the grass, and halted opposite the friends.

It was a remarkable contrast,--the repose and quiet of the two persons
we have described, the age and gray hairs of one, the resigned and
melancholy gentleness written on the features of the other--with the
springing step and laughing eyes and radiant bloom of the new comer! As
she stood with the setting sun glowing full upon her rich fair hair, her
happy countenance and elastic form, it was a vision almost too bright
for this weary earth,--a thing of light and bliss, that the joyous Greek
might have placed among the forms of Heaven, and worshipped as an Aurora
or a Hebe.

"Oh, how can you stay indoors this beautiful evening? Come, dea