ld's happiness: she had observed both characters narrowly, and was
perfectly convinced of Burrell's worthlessness. She could not impress
this conviction on Sir Robert's mind; but in her last moments she
extorted from him the promise that he would never urge the union. This
was, as we have seen, all she could obtain; and Sir Robert was content
to "keep the word of promise to the ear," without reference to the
sense.

Burrell seemed perfectly satisfied with the permission he had obtained,
and left Sir Robert in the library, expressing his determination to
speak to Mistress Cecil on the subject that evening.

"And he will make her a very affectionate husband," mused Sir Robert,
after his departure: "how can he do otherwise? But I do not interfere in
it; I know she has no other attachment; and my Constantia's sense of
duty will oblige her to love her husband. Oh, yes, she will be
happy--happy--happy"--he said, as if the repetition of the word could
give birth to the feeling.

It was the clear and balmy twilight; the sun had left the west in glory,
and the delicious breeze of evening was mingling among the young leaves
of the shrubs and trees; all appeared in contentment and at peace, when
the Lady Frances Cromwell and Constance sat together upon a mossy bank,
but a few yards distant from the house, yet so overshadowed by venerable
trees, that not a turret nor a vestige of the building was to be seen.
The spot they had chosen for their resting-place was known as "the Fairy
Ring:" it was a circular mound, girdled by evergreens, which, in their
turn, were belted by forest-trees, that spread in an opposite direction
to the house, into what was called the Ash Copse. The dark green of our
winter shrub, the spotted laurustinus, was relieved by the golden
tassels of the laburnum, just opening into bloom; the hawthorn contended
for beauty and perfume with the delicate blossoms of the purple lilac;
while its modest sister, the white, sent forth her pale green leaves,
and delicate buds, over a bed of double violets:--

"Where all the earth beneath--the heaven above,
Teem'd with the earliest spring of joyous youth,
Sunshine, and flowers, and vague, and virgin love."

The quiet and serenity of the evening communicated its tone and
character to the buoyant mind of Lady Frances Cromwell.

"I am sober as the twilight, Constance, because I have been thinking of
sober matters. Alas! alas! we have all our twilights.--Youth's