tone that quite gained his
heart, asked, "Is she the invalid?"

"Yes," said Norman. "New fancy work is a great gain to her."

Mrs. Larpent's sympathetic questions, and Meta's softening eyes,
gradually drew from him a great deal about Margaret's helpless state,
and her patience, and capabilities, and how every one came to her with
all their cares; and Norman, as he spoke, mentally contrasted the life,
untouched by trouble and care, led by the fair girl before him, with
that atmosphere of constant petty anxieties round her namesake's couch,
at years so nearly the same.

"How very good she must be," said little Meta, quickly and softly; and a
tear was sparkling on her eyelashes.

"She is indeed," said Norman earnestly. "I don't know what papa would do
but for her."

Mrs. Larpent asked kind questions whether his father's arm was very
painful, and the hopes of its cure; and he felt as if she was a great
friend already. Thence they came to books. Norman had not read for
months past, but it happened that Meta was just now reading Woodstock,
with which he was of course familiar; and both grew eager in discussing
that and several others. Of one, Meta spoke in such terms of delight,
that Norman thought it had been very stupid of him to let it lie on the
table for the last fortnight without looking into it.

He was almost sorry to see his father and Mr. Rivers come in, and hear
the carriage ordered, but they were not off yet, though the rain was now
only Scotch mist. Mr. Rivers had his most choice little pictures
still to display, his beautiful early Italian masters, finished like
illuminations, and over these there was much lingering and admiring.
Meta had whispered something to her governess, who smiled, and advanced
to Norman. "Meta wishes to know if your sister would like to have a few
flowers?" said she.

No sooner said than done; the door into the conservatory was opened,
and Meta, cutting sprays of beautiful geranium, delicious heliotrope,
fragrant calycanthus, deep blue tree violet, and exquisite hothouse
ferns; perfect wonders to Norman, who, at each addition to the bouquet,
exclaimed by turns, "Oh, thank you!" and, "How she will like it!"

Her father reached a magnolia blossom from on high, and the quick warm
grateful emotion trembled in Dr. May's features and voice, as he said,
"It is very kind in you; you have given my poor girl a great treat.
Thank you with all my heart."

Margaret Rivers cast down her eyes