r cheeks in the cold fresh water,
and drew them forth with a glow like Hebe's. Dressing herself with the
quiet activity which characterized all her movements, she then opened
the casement and inhaled the air. All was still in the narrow lane; the
shops yet unclosed. But on the still trees behind the shops the birds
were beginning to stir and chirp. Chanticleer, from some neighbouring
yard, rang out his brisk rereillee. Pleasant English summer dawn in the
pleasant English country village. She stretched her graceful neck far
from the casement, trying to catch a glimpse of the blue river. She
had seen its majestic flow on the day they had arrived at the fair, and
longed to gain its banks; then her servitude to the stage forbade her.
Now she was to be free! O joy! Now she might have her careless hours of
holiday; and, forgetful of Waife's warning that their vocation must
be plied in towns, she let her fancy run riot amidst visions of green
fields and laughing waters, and in fond delusion gathered the daisies
and chased the butterflies. Changeling transferred into that lowest
world of Art from the cradle of civil Nature, her human child's heart
yearned for the human childlike delights. All children love the country,
the flowers, the sward, the birds, the butterflies; or if some do not,
despair, O Philanthropy, of their afterlives!

She closed the window, smiling to herself, stole through the adjoining
doorway, and saw that her grandfather was still asleep. Then she busied
herself in putting the little sitting-room to rights, reset the table
for the morning meal, watered the stocks, and finally took up the
crystal and looked into it with awe, wondering why the Cobbler could
see so much, and she only the distorted reflection of her own face. So
interested, however, for once, did she become in the inspection of this
mystic globe, that she did not notice the dawn pass into broad daylight,
nor hear a voice at the door below,--nor, in short, take into cognition
the external world, till a heavy tread shook the floor, and then,
starting, she beheld the Remorseless Baron, with a face black enough to
have darkened the crystal of Dr. Dee himself.

"Ho, ho," said Mr. Rugge, in hissing accents which had often thrilled
the threepenny gallery with anticipative horror. "Rebellious, eh?--won't
come? Where's your grandfather, baggage?"

Sophy let fall the crystal--a mercy it was not brokenand gazed vacantly
on the Baron.

"Your vile scamp