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"Very nice," she says, in answer to Violet's question, sinking into the chair that Miss Mansergh, by a small gesture, half languid, half kindly, has pushed towards her, and which is close to Violet's own. "I went up the avenue, and then out on the road for about half a mile.",

"Whoever he was, he hardly excelled in breeding," says Lady Rodney; "to ask your name without an introduction! I never heard of such a thing. Very execrable form, indeed. In your place I should not have given it. And to manage his horse so badly that he nearly ran you down. He could hardly be any one we know. Some petty squire, no doubt.",

"The night was so lovely,—so mild," says Mona, faintly, concealment in any form being new to her, and very foreign to her truthful nature; "and I knew Mickey would tell you it was all right.",

"Come in, Dorothy. I want to speak to you."

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This old woman, by hard work and sacrifice, had managed to rear the boys. She tanned robes for the hunters, made them moccasins worked with porcupine quills, and did everything she could to get a little food or worn out robes and hide, from which she made clothes for her boys. They never had new, brightly painted calf robes, like other children. They went barefoot in summer, and in winter their toes often showed through the worn out skin of their moccasins. They had no flesh. Their ribs could be counted beneath the skin; their cheeks were hollow; they looked always hungry.,

"You have not gone into it," says Lady Lilias, regretfully. "To you Nature is as yet a blank. The exquisite purple of the stately thistle, that by the scoffer is called dull, is not understood by you. Nor does your heart swell beneath the influence of the rare and perfect green of its leaves, which doubtless the untaught deemed soiled. To fully appreciate the yieldings and gifts of earth is a power given only to some." She bows her head, feeling a modest pride in the thought that she belongs to the happy "some." "Ignorance," she says, sorrowfully, "is the greatest enemy of our cause.",

After a moment she turns deadly pale, and says, in a faint tone, "I know I am hurting you: I feel it." And in truth I believe the tender heart does feel it, much more than he does. There is an expression that amounts to agony in her beautiful eyes.,

"Pray do not give yourselves so much trouble on my account," says Lady Rodney, with intense but subdued indignation.