lingered on his lips--"Tell dear Mildred how
happy I am."

Lovell Castle was a dark, frowning pile, bearing an ancient date, while
some portions were more antiquated still, and had fallen into disuse. It
was a real castle of the olden time; I had often read of such with
interest and delight, but now I could explore for myself. Here were
dungeons and vaulted chambers, trap-doors and loop-holes, intricate
passages, secret hiding-places, and curious old oaken chests, battlements
and turrets, carved work and tapestry, banqueting hall and chapel--in
short, all the appendages necessary for romance in feudal days.

The family consisted of Mr. Lovell, Mildred, his eldest daughter by a
first wife, and Harold and Rose, the children of the second Mrs. Lovell,
who had died when Rose was an infant. Mildred was tenderly beloved by Mrs.
Priestly; and, as she never quitted her hypochondriacal father, it was
principally to see this dear niece that the widow left her quiet home on
the margin of Lodimer's blue waters. I was absolutely startled by the
extraordinary and striking likeness between the ornithologist and Mildred
Lovell--the same placid, sweet expression of countenance, the same gentle,
winning manners, too. While in unobtrusive performance of her duties
toward God and man, this good daughter and sister journeyed onward through
life, ministering to the comfort and well-being of all, but without
exacting a meed of praise or a single glance of admiration. Mildred was
nobody at Lovell Castle; but, had she been absent, her absence would have
been universally bewailed, and her value known: they were perhaps too used
to the blessing to appreciate it, even as the sun shines day after day,
and we do not remark it as any thing unusual.

Rose was a volatile, thoughtless girl, yet affectionate and kind-hearted
withal, and dearly loved her elder sister, who had indeed filled the place
of a mother to her. Rose had elastic, unvarying spirits, which were not
unwelcome in that dull old place, and kept the inmates from stagnation.
She and Harold were the father's darlings, though all Mr. Lovell's hope
and pride centred in his son. Pre-eminently beautiful in person, active
and graceful, Harold Lovell was born the same year as his deceased cousin,
Jocelyn Priestly, and the youths had strongly resembled each other, not
only in person but in disposition. The partial parents had not, perhaps,
read those dispositions truthfully, or in both their chil