on, Clara."

"And as for the bee,
And his industry,
I distrust his toilsome hours,
For he roves up and down,
Like a 'man upon town,'
With a natural taste for flowers.

There, mamma, no more,--not another the whole day long, I promise
you," cried she, as she threw her arms around her neck and kissed her
affectionately.

"Oh, these doggerel rhymes
Are like nursery chimes,
That sang us to sleep long ago.

I declare I'm forgetting already; so I'll go and look for Charley, and
help him to tie greendrakes, and the rest of them."

"What a strange child!" said Sir William, as he looked fondly after her
as she fled across the lawn.

"I have never seen her so thoroughly happy before," said Mrs. Morris,
with a faint sigh. "This lovely place, these delicious gardens, these
charming old woods, the villa itself, so full of objects of interest,
have made up a sort of fairy-tale existence for her which is positive
enchantment. It is, indeed, high time we should tear ourselves away from
fascinations which will leave all life afterwards a very dull affair."

"Oh, that day is very distant, I should hope," said he, with sincere
cordiality; "indeed, my ward and myself were, this very morning,
plotting by what pretext, by what skilful devices, we could induce you
to spend your autumn with us."

Mrs. Morris covered her face, as if to conceal her emotion, but a faint
sob was still audible from beneath her handkerchief. "Oh!" cried she, in
a faint and broken voice, "if you but knew in what a wounded heart you
have poured this balm!--if I could tell--what I cannot tell you--at
least, not yet--No, no, Sir William, we must leave this. I have already
written to my agent about letters for Alexandria and Cairo. You know,"
she added, with a sad smile, "the doctors have sentenced me to Egypt for
the winter."

"These fellows are mere alarmists. Italy is the best climate in the
world, or, rather, it has all the climates in the world; besides, I have
some wonderful counsel to give you about your bonds. I intend that Miss
Clara shall be the great heiress of her day. At all events, you shall
settle it with May." And so, with that dread of a scene, a sort of
terror about everything emotional,--not very unnatural in gentlemen of
a certain time of life, and with strong sanguineous temperaments,--Sir
William hurried away and left her to her own reflections.

Thus alone, Mrs. Morris took a letter from