growing
carnation-coloured over the fire. 'Oh, ma'am, I never saw such a young
lady. She is all one as the king's sister in The Lord of the Isles!'

While the object of all this enthusiasm was arriving at the Terrace,
she was chiefly conscious that Sir Roland was sinking down on the
ramparts of Acre, desperately wounded in the last terrible siege; and
she was considering whether palmer or minstrel should carry the tidings
of his death to Adeline. It was her refuge from the unpleasant
feelings, with which she viewed the experiment of the Northwold baths
upon Louisa's health. As the carriage stopped, she cast one glance at
the row of houses, they struck her as dreary and dilapidated; she drew
her mantle closer, shivered, and walked into the house. 'Small rooms,
dingy furniture-that is mamma's affair,' passed through her mind, as
she made a courteous acknowledgment of Miss Mercy's greeting, and stood
by the drawing-room fire. 'Roland slowly awoke from his swoon; a
white-robed old man, with a red eight-pointed cross on his breast, was
bending over him. He knew himself to be in--I can't remember which
tower the Hospitallers defended. I wonder whether Marianne can find
the volume of Vertot.'

'Isabel, Isabel!' shrieked Virginia, who, with Louisa, had been roaming
everywhere, 'here is a discovery in the school-room! Come!'

It was an old framed print of a large house, as much of a sham castle
as the nature of things would permit; and beneath were the words
'Cheveleigh, the seat of Roland Dynevor, Esquire.'

'There!' cried Virginia; 'you see it is a castle, a dear old feudal
castle! Think of that, Isabel! Why, it is as good as seeing Sir
Roland himself, to have seen Mr. Dynevor Frost disinherited. Oh! if
his name were only Roland, instead of that horrid James!'

'His initials are J. R.,' said Isabel. 'It is a curious coincidence.'

'It only wants an Adeline to have the castle now,' said Louisa. 'Oh!
there shall be an heiress, and she shall be beautiful, and he shan't go
crusading--he shall marry her.'

The sisters had not been aware that the school-room maid, who had been
sent on to prepare, was busy unpacking in a corner of the room. 'They
say, Miss Louisa,' she interposed, 'that Mr. Frost is going to be
married to a great heiress--his cousin, Miss Ponsonby, at No. 7.'

Isabel requited the forwardness by silently leaving the room with the
sisters, and Virginia apologized for not having been more cautious