ns who were soon
persuaded to leave the somewhat formal circles of the city for a few
days of adventure in the country. They had arrived late in the night,
and wearied by fifteen hours' confinement on board a small sloop, the
visitors slept late the next morning, while Edward Houstoun, haunted by
tender memories, was early awake and abroad. Standing in the porch, he
looked forth through the gray light of the early dawn on hill and dale
and river, endeavoring to recall the feelings with which he had gazed
on them seven years before. Then he was a boy of scarcely sixteen,
eager only for the holiday sport or the distinction of the
school-room--now, he stood there--a boy still, his heart indignantly
pronounced, though he had numbered nearly twenty-three years. Edward
Houstoun was beginning to wake to somewhat of noble scorn in viewing his
own position--beginning to feel that to amuse himself was an object
hardly worthy a _man's_ life. Turning forcibly from such thoughts, he
sprang down the steps, and pursued a path leading by the orchard and
through a flowery lane, towards the dwelling of the farmer to whom the
management of the Glen had been intrusted, first by Sir Edward and
afterwards by Lady Houstoun. The sun was just touching with a sapphire
tint the few clouds that specked the eastern sky; the branches of the
wild rose and mountain laurel which skirted the lane on the right were
heavy with the dews of night, and the birds seemed caroling their
earliest song in the orchard and clover-field on the left, yet the
farmer's horses were already harnessed to the wagon, and through the
open door of the house Edward Houstoun as he approached caught a glimpse
of Farmer Pye himself and his men seated at breakfast. As he was not
perceived by them, he passed on, without interrupting them, to the
dairy, where the good dame was busy with her white pails and bright
pans. A calico bonnet with a very deep front concealed his approach from
Mrs. Pye until he stood beside her; but there was one within the dairy
who saw him, and whose coquettish movement in snatching from her glossy
brown ringlets a bonnet of the same unbecoming shape with that of Mrs.
Pye, did not escape his observation.

"Well, now--did I ever see the like! Why, Mr. Edward, you've grown clean
out of a body's memory--but after all, nobody couldn't help knowing you
that ever seen your papa, good gentleman--how much you are like him!"

Thus ran on Dame Pye, while Edward, ex