ng-room window, and uttered an exclamation of
surprise. Buried in that old six inside convenience, she had not
observed that it had been ascending a considerable hill. The front of
Mr. Peach's cottage looked on a sandy lane. But the drawing-room was
at the back, and well might Helen be startled, for the window she
stood at commanded a view of the rich landscape lying between the
heath and Harrow. Five minutes afterwards the bargain was struck, and
in five minutes more Randolph was on his way back into the city in
quest of the boxes and bags, leaving Helen to become acquainted with
their future hostess.

A quaint but genial pair of humourists were Cornelius and Clotilda
Peach. Mr. Shandy would perhaps have attributed some of their oddity
to the chance which gave them their names. A row of folio volumes in
the parlour might afford some key to the brother's tastes, and would
intimate that he was fond of old poems, old plays, and old divinity.
Here and there a bit of paper peeping from the leaves, and written
upon, betrayed some scribbling propensity on the part of the owner.
Manly and kindly were all his favourite authors, and if the latter
quality predominated in himself, it was only perhaps because the
former had never been called into activity. Everyone who knew him
loved Cornelius Peach.

And his sister loved him best. She looked up to him also, as something
great. She never contradicted him, except at whist, a game in which
they both rejoiced. In all other matters, when she had quoted the
opinion of Cornelius, she considered the question at issue decided. A
small garden was attached to the cottage, and Clotilda piqued herself
on her pansies and carnations, but never grudged a flower for her
brother's button-hole. Sometimes, but very rarely, her sisterly care
was tried by the effect of a social party upon his uprightness, on
which occasions Cornelius was apt to become sentimental about a
certain Mabel whom he said he ought to have married, but whom his
friends believed to be a mere phantom of his imagination. They never
could learn her sirname.

Such were the worthy couple with whom the orphans of Trevethlan were
now to be domesticated. When Randolph returned with the luggage, he
found dinner ready for himself and Helen; and after the repast, he
inquired his way to Mr. Winter's--the Elms--and left a message there,
expressing his thanks, and saying how comfortably his sister and he
were settled. Later in the evening