make her remember that they were not brother and sister, and by checking
their present happy, careless, confidential intercourse, to save her
from the chill which seemed to have been cast on Laura. Mrs. Edmonstone
was the more anxious, because she deeply regretted not having been
sufficiently watchful in Laura's case, and perhaps she felt an
unacknowledged conviction that if there was real love on Guy's part, it
would not be hurt by a little reserve on Amy's. Yet to have to speak
to her little innocent daughter on such a matter disturbed her so much,
that she could hardly have set about it, if Amy had not, at that very
moment, knocked at her door.

'My dear, what has kept you up so late?'

'We have been sitting in Eveleen's room, mamma, hearing about her London
life; and then we began to settle our plans for to-morrow, and I came to
ask what you think of them. You know Guy has promised to go and hear
the East-hill singing, and we were proposing, if you did not mind it,
to take the pony-carriage and the donkey, and go in the morning to
East-hill, have luncheon, and get Mary to go with us to the top of the
great down, where we have never been. Guy has been wanting us, for a
long time past, to go and see the view, and saying there is a track
quite smooth enough to drive Charlie to the top.'

Amy wondered at her mother's look of hesitation. In fact, the scheme was
so accordant with their usual habits that it was impossible to find any
objection; yet it all hinged on Guy, and the appointment at East-hill
might lead to a great many more.

'Do you wish us to do anything else, mamma? We don't care about it.'

'No, my dear,' said Mrs. Edmonstone, 'I see no reason against it.
But--' and she felt as if she was making a desperate plunge, 'there is
something I want to say to you.'

Amy stood ready to hear, but Mrs. Edmonstone paused. Another effort, and
she spoke:--

'Amy, my dear, I don't wish to find fault, but I thought of advising you
to take care. About Guy--'

The very brilliant pink which instantly overspread Amy's face made her
mother think her warning more expedient.

'You have been spending a great deal of time with him of late, very
sensibly and pleasantly, I know; I don't blame you at all, my dear, so
you need not look distressed. I only want you to be careful. You know,
though we call him cousin, he is scarcely a relation at all.'

'O mamma, don't go on,' said poor little Amy, hurriedly; 'indeed I am
very