come of it; never fear but
it will--it _must_. And when I am a great lady, Rosey, who but you,
sweet cousin, will be next my heart?"

"I am satisfied to be _near_, even without being _next_ it, Helen,"
she replied mournfully; "but why have you kept this matter concealed
from me so long? Why have you"--

"Found!" interrupted a well-known voice; and at the same moment Edward
Lynne shook a shower of perfumed hawthorn blossoms from the scattered
hedge which he struggled through; and repeating "Found!" in his full
echoing voice, stood panting before the startled girls. "I have had
such a hunt!" he exclaimed joyfully--"such a hunt for you, Helen! I
have been over Woodland brook, and up as far as Fairmill, where you
said you would be--oh, you truant! And I doubt if I should have caught
you at last, but for poor Dash"--and the sagacious dog sprung about,
as if conscious that he deserved a large portion of the praise. Rose
was astonished at the perfect self-possession with which, after the
first flush of surprise, Helen received her lover. Nor was poor Rose
unconscious that she herself occupied no portion of his attention
beyond the glance of recognition which he cast while throwing himself
on the sward at Helen's feet.

"We must go home," said the triumphant beauty, after hearing a few of
those half-whispered nothings which are considered of such importance
in a lover's calendar; "the dew is falling, and I may catch cold."

"The dew falling!" repeated Edward.--"Why, look, the sky is still
golden from the sun's rays; do not--do not, dearest Helen, go home
yet. Besides," he added, "your grandmother has plenty of employment;
there is Mrs. Howard's companion, and one or two strangers from the
hall, at your cottage--so she is not at all lonesome."

"Who did you say?" inquired Helen, eagerly, now really losing her
self-command.

"Oh, some of Mrs. Howard's fine friends. I never," he continued, "see
those sort of people in an humble village, without thinking of the
story of the agitation of all the little hedgerow birds, when they
first saw a paroquet amongst them, and began longing for his gay
feathers. Do not go, dear Helen--they will soon be gone; and I do so
want you to walk as far as Fairmill Lawn. I have planted with my own
hands this morning the silver firs you said you admired, just where
the bank juts over the stream. Do come."

"Rose will go, and tell me all about it, but _I_ must get home. Granny
cannot do without