s mother was then the
drunkard's wife. What had _their_ marriage been? Caroline, turning from
the lattice, whence she had been watching the starlings (though without
seeing them), in a low voice, and with a sad, bitter tone, thus broke
the silence of the room,--

"You term marriage miserable, I suppose, from what you saw of my father
and mother's. If my mother suffered what I suffered when I was with
papa, she must have had a dreadful life."

Mr. Helstone, thus addressed, wheeled about in his chair, and looked
over his spectacles at his niece. He was taken aback.

Her father and mother! What had put it into her head to mention her
father and mother, of whom he had never, during the twelve years she had
lived with him, spoken to her? That the thoughts were self-matured, that
she had any recollections or speculations about her parents, he could
not fancy.

"Your father and mother? Who has been talking to you about them?"

"Nobody; but I remember something of what papa was, and I pity mamma.
Where is she?"

This "Where is she?" had been on Caroline's lips hundreds of times
before, but till now she had never uttered it.

"I hardly know," returned Mr. Helstone; "I was little acquainted with
her. I have not heard from her for years: but wherever she is, she
thinks nothing of you; she never inquires about you. I have reason to
believe she does not wish to see you. Come, it is school-time. You go to
your cousin at ten, don't you? The clock has struck."

Perhaps Caroline would have said more; but Fanny, coming in, informed
her master that the churchwardens wanted to speak to him in the vestry.
He hastened to join them, and his niece presently set out for the
cottage.

The road from the rectory to Hollow's Mill inclined downwards; she ran,
therefore, almost all the way. Exercise, the fresh air, the thought of
seeing Robert, at least of being on his premises, in his vicinage,
revived her somewhat depressed spirits quickly. Arriving in sight of the
white house, and within hearing of the thundering mill and its rushing
watercourse, the first thing she saw was Moore at his garden gate. There
he stood, in his belted Holland blouse, a light cap covering his head,
which undress costume suited him. He was looking down the lane, not in
the direction of his cousin's approach. She stopped, withdrawing a
little behind a willow, and studied his appearance.

"He has not his peer," she thought. "He is as handsome as he is
intellige