njoying
himself as much as the youngest child present.

It was a glorious day, the breeze was only fresh, and the dust,
notwithstanding Ermengarde's fears, by no means excessive.

The little girl soon therefore got over her slight disappointment at
Miss Nelson's choice not having been the same as her own. She was
seated by her favorite Basil's side, in the pony-carriage, the more
riotous party, with Mr. Wilton at their head, having elected to go in
the wagonette.

Miss Nelson and two of the younger children sat opposite to Ermengarde
and Basil. Ermengarde would rather have had another _vis-a-vis_, but
as the governess devoted her whole time to amusing the two little
ones, Ermengarde decided to take no notice of her, and to give herself
up to the delights of Basil's conversation.

Basil was a boy who, with all his sunny and pleasant ways, had a very
reserved nature. There were in reality two Basils: one with a kindly
word, a joke, a light jest, an affectionate manner for each and every
one he came across; the other was made of sterner stuff--grave, with
deep thoughts and high aspirations, and very strong, almost rigid
ideas with regard to honor and rectitude--this was the inner Basil,
whose existence Ermengarde knew of, whom she adored, loved, admired,
dreaded.

This Basil had a heart which could be wounded, and Ermengarde knew
well that, if she caused that deep heart a pang, it might close its
doors against her, and shut her out in the cold, outside its affection
and influence forever.

By superficial observers Basil was considered one of the most
forgiving and the most easily pleased people in the house. But
Ermengarde knew better. She knew things might happen which might make
Basil a very stern and unrelenting young judge.

This morning, however, all was sunshine. Basil was in his sunniest
humor. He would not talk all the time to Ermengarde, but gave Miss
Nelson and the children enough of his conversation to make them feel
in it all, and consequently in excellent spirits. But for his sister
he had some tender glances, and one or two allusions which no one
understood but herself, for the brother and sister had spent happy
birthdays like this in their mother's time, and they were both
thinking of her to-day.

A part of the road which led to Salter's Point wound through the woods
which lay at the back of Wilton Chase. There was plenty of shade,
therefore, here, and Ermengarde lay back on her comfortable seat w