very thought and feeling of his existence seemed
dedicated to their happiness and prosperity.

So great indeed was the shock which he experienced at the unexpected
death of Lady Barbara, that for some time he meditated assuming the
cowl; and if the absence of his pupil prevented the accomplishment of
this project, the plan was only postponed, not abandoned. The speedy
marriage of Sir Ratcliffe followed. Circumstances had prevented
Glastonbury from being present at the ceremony. It was impossible for
him to retire to the cloister without seeing his pupil. Business, if not
affection, rendered an interview between them necessary. It was equally
impossible for Glastonbury to trouble a bride and bridegroom with his
presence. When, however, three months had elapsed, he began to believe
that he might venture to propose a meeting to Sir Ratcliffe; but while
he was yet meditating on this step, he was anticipated by the receipt of
a letter containing a warm invitation to Armine.

It was a beautiful sunshiny afternoon in June. Lady Armine was seated in
front of the Place looking towards the park, and busied with her work;
while Sir Ratcliffe, stretched on the grass, was reading to her the last
poem of Scott, which they had just received from the neighbouring town.

'Ratcliffe, my dear,' said Lady Armine, 'some one approaches.'

'A tramper, Constance?'

'No, no, my love; rise; it is a gentleman.'

'Who can it be?' said Sir Ratcliffe, rising; 'perhaps it is your
brother, love. Ah! no, it is--it is Glastonbury!'

And at these words he ran forward, jumped over the iron hurdle which
separated their lawn from the park, nor stopped his quick pace until
he reached a middle-aged man of very prepossessing appearance, though
certainly not unsullied by the dust, for assuredly the guest had
travelled far and long.

'My dear Glastonbury,' exclaimed Sir Ratcliffe, embracing him, and
speaking under the influence of an excitement in which he rarely
indulged, 'I am the happiest fellow alive. How do you do? I will
introduce you to Constance directly. She is dying to know you, and quite
prepared to love you as much as myself. O! my dear Glastonbury, you have
no idea how happy I am. She is a perfect angel.'

'I am sure of it,' said Glastonbury, seriously.

Sir Ratcliffe hurried his tutor along. 'Here is my best friend,
Constance,' he eagerly exclaimed. Lady Armine rose and welcomed Mr.
Glastonbury very cordially. 'Your presence, my dear sir