m with a glance of blended love and mockery, and then
she said in his ear, "I feel as if we had fallen from some star."

CHAPTER XII

The morrow brought a bright autumnal morn, and every one woke, if not
happy, interested. There was much to see and much to do. The dew was so
heavy that the children were not allowed to quit the broad gravel walk
that bounded one side of the old house, but they caught enticing vistas
of the gleamy glades, and the abounding light and shade softened and
adorned everything. Every sight and sound too was novel, and from
the rabbit that started out of the grove, stared at them and then
disappeared, to the jays chattering in the more distant woods, all was
wonderment at least for a week. They saw squirrels for the first time,
and for the first time beheld a hedgehog. Their parents were busy in
the house; Mr. Ferrars unpacking and settling his books, and his wife
arranging some few articles of ornamental furniture that had been saved
from the London wreck, and rendering their usual room of residence as
refined as was in her power. It is astonishing how much effect a woman
of taste can produce with a pretty chair or two full of fancy and
colour, a table clothed with a few books, some family miniatures, a
workbag of rich material, and some toys that we never desert. "I have
not much to work with," said Mrs. Ferrars, with a sigh, "but I think the
colouring is pretty."

On the second day after their arrival, the rector and his wife made them
a visit. Mr. Penruddock was a naturalist, and had written the history of
his parish. He had escaped being an Oxford don by being preferred early
to this college living, but he had married the daughter of a don, who
appreciated the grand manners of their new acquaintances, and who, when
she had overcome their first rather awe-inspiring impression, became
communicative and amused them much with her details respecting the
little world in which they were now to live. She could not conceal
her wonderment at the beauty of the twins, though they were no longer
habited in those dresses which had once astonished even Mayfair.

Part of the scheme of the new life was the education of the children
by their parents. Mr. Ferrars had been a distinguished scholar, and was
still a good one. He was patient and methodical, and deeply interested
in his contemplated task. So far as disposition was concerned the pupil
was not disappointing. Endymion was of an affectionate disp