l, and still paid there its
willing homage to the loftiest intellect and the noblest heart, in her
estimation, with which earth was blessed.

September, with its cool, invigorating freshness, had come, when Mr.
Trevanion's family returned to the city. To Lilian's great, though
unspoken disappointment, the children met them there, and no thought
seemed to be entertained of a visit to the country. Carefully she had
kept the date of Mr. Grahame's conversation, in which he had demanded
that she should make a six months' trial of life, freed from the
associations which her early poverty had fastened on her. In a few weeks
after her return to New-York, the six months were completed. On the day
preceding its exact completion, Lilian expressed to Mr. Trevanion her
wish to visit Mossgiel. "It is now six months," she said with a blush
and a smile, "since I saw Mr. Grahame."

Whatever might have been Mr. Trevanion's wishes for his ward, he had
neither the right nor the will to control her actions, and he not only
consented to her going, but went down with her himself to Trevanion
Hall, where they arrived late in the evening.

Lilian knew that the inhabitants of Mossgiel kept early hours, and the
gay pink and blue and white convolvuluses, which arched the rude gate
leading from the more public road into the rural lane by which their
house was approached, had just unfolded their petals, when she rode
through it on the morning succeeding her arrival at Trevanion Hall. She
had declined the attendance of a servant, and set off at a brisk canter,
but soon reined in her horse and proceeded at a slower pace. Hope and
fear were busy at her heart. Six months! What changes might not have
taken place in that time! Again Lilian touched her horse with her light
riding-whip, and rode briskly on till she reached the gate of which we
have spoken. Here she alighted to open the gate. As she entered the lane
she saw, not far in advance of her, a boy who had been hired to assist
Mr. Grahame in the garden. She called to him, and giving him her bridle
to lead her horse to the stable, walked on herself towards the house,
which was little more than a hundred yards distant. After walking a few
steps, she turned to ask, "Are Mr. and Mrs. Grahame well?"

Another question trembled on her lips--but she could not speak it. "If
_he_ love me, he will be here," she whispered to herself, and again
passed on. The road wound around the house, and led to the entran