ht have been glad to catch for natural
grace, about three or four younger grandchildren, the eldest not
exceeding four years, who, too young to join in the dance and sports of
their elder brethren, were listening with eager attention to the
entertaining stories grandpapa was relating, calling forth peals of
laughter from his infant auditors, particularly from the fine
curly-headed boy who was installed on the seat of honour, Mr. Hamilton's
knee, being the only child of Percy and Louisa, and consequently the pet
of all. It was to that group Herbert Myrvin wished to confine the
attention of his merry little sister, who, however, did not choose to be
so governed, and frisked about from one group to another, regardless of
her graver brother's warning glances; one minute seated on Mrs.
Hamilton's knee and nestling her little head on her bosom, the next
pulling her uncle Lord St. Eval's coat, to make him turn round and play
with her, and then running away with a wild and ringing laugh.

"Do not look so anxious, my own Emmeline," Mrs. Hamilton said fondly,
as she met her daughter's glance fixed somewhat anxiously on her little
Minnie, for so she was generally called, to distinguish her from Lady
St. Eval's Mary. "You will have no trouble to check those wild spirits
when there is need to do so; her heart is like your own, and then sweet
is the task of rearing."

With all the grateful fondness of earlier years did Mrs. Myrvin look up
in her mother's face, as she thus spoke, and press her hand in hers.

"Not even yet have you ceased to penetrate my thoughts, my dearest
mother," she replied; "from childhood unto the present hour you have
read my countenance as an open book."

"And have not you, too, learned that lesson, my child? Is it not to you
your gentle, timid Caroline clings most fondly? Is it not to you Herbert
comes with his favourite book, and Allan with his tales of glee?
Minnie's mirth is not complete unless she meets your smile, and even
little Florence looks for some sign of sympathy. You have not found the
task so difficult, that you should wonder I should love it?"

"For those beloved ones, oh, what would I not do?" said Mrs. Myrvin, in
a tone of animated fervour, and turning her glistening eyes on her
mother, she added, "My own mother, marriage may bring with it new tics,
new joys, but, oh, who can say it severs the first bright links of life
between a mother and a child? it is now, only now, I feel how much yo