thoughtful--looks which passed away as if by
magic, as the sturdy little fellow she led by the hand ran to him and
climbed upon his knee.

"Is there anything the matter?" exclaimed Ada anxiously, as she leaned
upon her husband's shoulder.

"Matter! No, love!" said Norton, heartily--another man now, his face
lighting up with pleasure as his child snatched first at pens, then at
paper, everything within reach--"unless it is with this young rebel; but
what made you ask?"

"Philip," she said, softly, "you keep nothing from me, dear: do not
begin now."

"Well, there," he said, "I won't;" and he drew her nearer towards him.
"Heaven forbid that I should from the woman to whom I owe life and
happiness such as no other man could enjoy. But you see," he said,
slightly hesitating, "I have been over to the Rectory this morning."

"Yes," said Ada, anxiously.

"And they have had a letter from Italy."

"Well, Philip?" she said, laying her head against his cheek, as one arm
drew her nearer and nearer, while the other toyed with the boy's curls.

"Well, darling, it is nothing; but I could not help it: the news seemed
to cause me a vague feeling of uneasiness--nothing but a passing cloud--
for thoughts will go backwards sometimes. Not complimentary, that," he
said, laughing; "but I meant no more, love, than a general reference to
old troubles."

"I know--I know," she said, with unruffled countenance; "but what was
the news?"

"Well, dear, it was that workmen are to be sent up to the Castle
directly; and there's to be painting, and paper-hanging, and
re-furnishing, and Heaven knows what beside; and I was thinking that
Merland has done for years past now uncommonly well with the Castle in
its present state, and that, if I had my will, it should remain as it
is."

"And all this means, dear?" said Mrs Norton, quietly.

"Yes, of course," laughed Norton. "Now, did you ever see anything like
the dog? Both his fingers in the ink! Yes, it means, of course, that
after five years of absence the Gernons are coming home."

Book 1, Chapter IX.

ADA'S PROMISE.

The old love of change and adventure, which in earlier life had led
Philip Norton into seeking a commission in the Indian army, clung to him
still, and sometimes for days--sometimes even for weeks together, he
would absent himself from home, journeying north or south, or even going
abroad without making the slightest preparation. He would laugh on his
return, and own