joy the same allowance
half-yearly. Her first idea was what delightful presents could be made
to every one; but as she was devising showers of gifts for her niece,
James cut her short,--'I am sorry to give you pain, Clara, but it must
be understood that neither directly nor indirectly can I nor mine
receive anything bought with my uncle's money.'

'That was the only thing to make me not hate it.'

'It is best you should hate it.'

'I do! Why did he come home to bother us? Oh, Jem, can't I still live
here, and only visit there?'

'No, Clara. The care of granny is your first duty; and during her
life, so long as you are single, her home must be yours.'

The edict was given in stern self-abnegation; but James was very kind
to her, treating her as a victim, and spending his leisure in walking
about with her, that she might take leave of every favourite haunt. He
was indulgent enough even to make no objection to going with her to
Ormersfield, where she wandered about the park, visited old scenes with
Louis, and went over all his improvements. His cottages had as yet the
sole fault of looking too new, and one of his tenants would not shut up
his pigs; but otherwise all was going on well, and Inglewood was in the
excitement of Louis's first harvest. He walked about with ears of
wheat in his hand, talked knowingly of loads and acres, and had almost
taught his father to watch the barometer. It added to Clara's regrets
that she should miss the harvest-supper, for which he and Mr.
Holdsworth had wonderful designs; but it was not to take place until
Fitzjocelyn's return from Cheveleigh. Oliver had invited him and his
father to conduct Mrs. Frost thither, and add eclat to her reception;
and this, as Clara said, 'was the only comfort in the business.'

James had effectually destroyed all pleasure on her part, and had made
the change appear an unmitigated misfortune, even though she did not
know what she would have thought the worst. Congratulations were
dreadful to her, and it was all that Isabel could do to persuade her to
repress her dislike so as not to distress her grandmother.

To Mrs. Frost it was pain to leave what she owned, with thankful tears,
to have been a happy, peaceful refuge for her widowhood and poverty;
she grieved over each parting, clung to the Faithfulls, reiterated fond
counsels to Isabel, and could hardly bear to detach herself from the
great-grandchild. But still it was her own son, and her ow