he talk; perhaps (excepting only Kenelm) she talked more than the
others, artlessly, gayly, no vestige of the old coquetry; but, now and
then, with a touch of genteel finery, indicative of her rise in life,
and of the contact of the fancy shopkeeper with noble customers. It was
a pleasant evening; Kenelm had resolved that it should be so. Not a
hint of the obligations to Mr. Bowles escaped until Will, following his
visitor to the door, whispered to Tom, "You don't want thanks, and I
can't express them. But when we say our prayers at night, we have always
asked God to bless him who brought us together, and has since made us
so prosperous,--I mean Mr. Chillingly. To-night there will be another
besides him, for whom we shall pray, and for whom baby, when he is
older, will pray too."

Therewith Will's voice thickened; and he prudently receded, with no
unreasonable fear lest the punch might make him too demonstrative of
emotion if he said more.

Tom was very silent on the return to Cromwell Lodge; it did not seem the
silence of depressed spirits, but rather of quiet meditation, from which
Kenelm did not attempt to rouse him.

It was not till they reached the garden pales of Grasmere that Tom,
stopping short, and turning his face to Kenelm, said, "I am very
grateful to you for this evening,--very."

"It has revived no painful thoughts then?"

"No; I feel so much calmer in mind than I ever believed I could have
been, after seeing her again."

"Is it possible!" said Kenelm, to himself. "How should I feel if I ever
saw in Lily the wife of another man, the mother of his child?" At that
question he shuddered, and an involuntary groan escaped from his lips.
Just then having, willingly in those precincts, arrested his steps when
Tom paused to address him, something softly touched the arm which he had
rested on the garden pale. He looked, and saw that it was Blanche.
The creature, impelled by its instincts towards night-wanderings, had,
somehow or other, escaped from its own bed within the house, and hearing
a voice that had grown somewhat familiar to its ear, crept from among
the shrubs behind upon the edge of the pale. There it stood, with arched
back, purring low as in pleased salutation.

Kenelm bent down and covered with kisses the blue ribbon which Lily's
hand had bound round the favourite's neck. Blanche submitted to the
caress for a moment, and then catching a slight rustle among the shrubs
made by some awaking bird,