m to discontinue them, and talked of her
husband, who was hunting, and heard the history of Harry's return and
recovery. In the midst, little Margaret took heart of grace, crossed
the room, and stood by the sailor, and holding up a great India-rubber
ball as large as her own head, asked, 'Uncle Harry, were you shot with
a cannon-ball as big as this?'

Thereupon she was on his knee, and as he had all his father's
fascination for children, he absolutely beguiled her into ten minutes
of genuine childish mirth, a sight so rare and precious to her mother,
that she could not keep up her feint of talking to Ethel. The elderly
dame, part nurse, part nursery governess, presently came to take Miss
Rivers out, but Miss Rivers, with a whine in her voice, insisted on
going nowhere but to see the shooting, and Uncle Harry must come with
her; and come he did, the little bony fingers clasping tight hold of
one of his large ones.

'Dear Harry!' said Flora, 'he wins every one! It is like a cool
refreshing wind from the sea when he comes in.'

In Flora's whole air, voice, and manner, there was apparent a
relaxation and absence of constraint such as she never allowed herself
except when alone with Ethel. Then only did she relieve the constant
strain, then only did the veritable woman show herself, and the effort,
the toil, the weariness, the heart-ache of her life become visible; but
close together as the sisters lived, such tete-a-tetes were rare, and
perhaps were rather shunned than sought, as perilous and doubtful
indulgences. Even now, Flora at once fixed a limit by ordering the
carriage to meet her in a quarter of an hour at the nearest point to
the rifle-ground, saying she would walk there, and then take home Ethel
and any brother who might be tired.

'And see that Margaret does not come to harm,' said Ethel.

'I am not afraid of that,' said Flora, something in her eye belying
her; 'but she might be troublesome to Harry, and I had rather he did
not see one of her fights with Miss Morton.'

'How has she been? I thought her looking clearer and better to-day,'
said Ethel, kindly.

'Yes, she is pretty well just now,' said Flora, allowing herself in one
of her long deep sighs, before descending into the particulars of the
child's anxiously-watched health. If she had been describing them to
her father, there would have been the same minuteness, but the tone
would have implied cheerful hope; whereas to Ethel she took no pains