nd wild-roses, I
was kneeling before him, and presenting them, one by one, to the grasp of
his tiny fingers; enjoying the heavenly beauty of the flowers, through
the medium of his smiling eyes: forgetting, for the moment, all my cares,
laughing at his gleeful laughter, and delighting myself with his
delight,--when a shadow suddenly eclipsed the little space of sunshine on
the grass before us; and looking up, I beheld Walter Hargrave standing
and gazing upon us.

'Excuse me, Mrs. Huntingdon,' said he, 'but I was spell-bound; I had
neither the power to come forward and interrupt you, nor to withdraw from
the contemplation of such a scene. How vigorous my little godson grows!
and how merry he is this morning!' He approached the child, and stooped
to take his hand; but, on seeing that his caresses were likely to produce
tears and lamentations, instead of a reciprocation of friendly
demonstrations, he prudently drew back.

'What a pleasure and comfort that little creature must be to you, Mrs.
Huntingdon!' he observed, with a touch of sadness in his intonation, as
he admiringly contemplated the infant.

'It is,' replied I; and then I asked after his mother and sister.

He politely answered my inquiries, and then returned again to the subject
I wished to avoid; though with a degree of timidity that witnessed his
fear to offend.

'You have not heard from Huntingdon lately?' he said.

'Not this week,' I replied. Not these three weeks, I might have said.

'I had a letter from him this morning. I wish it were such a one as I
could show to his lady.' He half drew from his waistcoat-pocket a letter
with Arthur's still beloved hand on the address, scowled at it, and put
it back again, adding--'But he tells me he is about to return next week.'

'He tells me so every time he writes.'

'Indeed! well, it is like him. But to me he always avowed it his
intention to stay till the present month.'

It struck me like a blow, this proof of premeditated transgression and
systematic disregard of truth.

'It is only of a piece with the rest of his conduct,' observed Mr.
Hargrave, thoughtfully regarding me, and reading, I suppose, my feelings
in my face.

'Then he is really coming next week?' said I, after a pause.

'You may rely upon it, if the assurance can give you any pleasure. And
is it possible, Mrs. Huntingdon, that you can rejoice at his return?' he
exclaimed, attentively perusing my features again.

'Of course, Mr.