and there was no one
in the drawing-room; but, as Norman was following the boys upstairs,
Flora opened her sitting-room door, and attracted his attention by
silently putting her cold fingers into his hand, and drawing him into
the room.

"Dear Norman, this is pleasant," she said affectionately; but in a voice
so sunken, that all gladness seemed to be dead within, and the
effect was far more mournful than if she had not attempted to smile
congratulation.

"I will give you till Dr. Spencer comes," she said. "Then Norman can
dress, and you must be a good child, and come down to me."

The playfulness ill suited the wan, worn face that seemed to have caught
a gray tint from her rich poplin, her full toilet making the contrast
almost more painful; and, as she closed the door, her brother could only
exclaim, "Poor Flora!"

"She is so kind," said the voice of the white figure that moved towards
him. "Oh, if we could comfort her!"

"I trust to her own kindness working comfort to her, at last," said
Norman. "But is she often thus?"

"Whenever she is not bearing up for George's sake," said Meta. "She
never says anything when she is alone with me, only she does not
struggle with her looks."

"It must be very trying for you."

"Nay, I feel grateful to her for even so far relaxing the restraint. If
I could but do her any good."

"You cannot help doing her good," said Norman.

Meta sighed, and shook her head slightly, as she said, "She is so gentle
and considerate. I think this has been no fresh pain to her to-day, but
I cannot tell. The whole day has been a strange intermixture."

"The two strands of joy and grief have been very closely twisted," said
Norman. "That rose is shedding its fragrant leaves in its glory, and
there is much that should have chastened the overflowing gladness of
to-day."

"As I was thinking," whispered Meta, venturing nearer to him, and
looking into his face with the sweet reliance of union in thought. She
meant him to proceed, but he paused, saying, "You were thinking-"

"I had rather hear it from you."

"Was it not that we were taught to-day what is enduring, and gives
true permanence and blessedness to such--to what there was between
Ernescliffe and Margaret?"

Her dewy eyes, and face of deep emotion, owned that he had interpreted
her thought.

"Theirs would, indeed, be a disheartening example," he said, "if it did
not show the strength and peace that distance, sickness, death, canno