eflection took possession of her
volatile mind. There was a solemn gloom and grandeur about the scene
that reminded her of the Sabbath she was desecrating, and therewith of
her parents, and her duty to them. For a moment--only for a moment--she
thought she would return, and strive to atone for the falsehood, by
giving up the object of her evening wandering. But a bright gleam of
sunshine darted through the trees--the stream foamed and leapt towards
it--the waterfall sparkled beneath--the arrowy fern glittered like gold,
and Netta's heart forgot her duty, and thought of her recreant lover.
Her repentance must come in gloom, her sin in sunshine.

She plucked a bunch of the wild roses that hung around and above her,
and dashed them petulantly into the stream. She watched them as their
course was interrupted by the large masses of rock, and they were tossed
here and there by the angry mischievous water. At last they hung
trembling on a huge stone, stranded, as it were, on their impetuous
course. Again, for a moment, a serious comparison arose in her mind, and
she wondered whether her life might be like that of the flowers she had
cast away from her? whether she might be carried, by the force of
contending passions, and left to wither upon some hard shore that as yet
she knew not of. Such ideas naturally present themselves to the mind of
all who are not wholly devoid of imagination and when the rapid stream
again bore, away the bunch of roses, and Netta saw them no more, she had
quite believed that such would be her course upon the troubled waters of
the world.

But she was not long left to speculate upon her future. Whilst her eyes
were yet fixed upon the spot whence the roses had vanished, she felt a
hand on her shoulder, heard a voice call her name, and starting round,
saw her cousin Howel behind her. He had crept so softly down that she
had not heard him, and she uttered a sharp cry that sounded like one of
terror, as she suddenly felt his touch.

'A strange greeting, Netta,' were the first words, after they had shaken
hands.

'You frightened me, and why were you not here sooner? I have been
waiting an hour,' was the rejoinder, in a tone of voice that belied the
radiant joy of the young face.

Suddenly Netta seemed to recollect something that brought a shadow over
the sunshine.

'Cousin Howel, I--I am very sorry for you. Poor Uncle Griff! How is
aunt?--and you--you look ill, Howel; what is the matter?'

It was d