that she had in store for me.

"Yes," said Mrs. Hill, "it is true that we are destined to lose her, and
it is very kind and sympathising of you, my dear, to look so miserable.
You can readily imagine how I shall suffer--I, who have loved that girl
far more than if I had been ten times over her mother." And the little
lady wiped her eyes. "I told you, my dear, that the matter is a secret.
Old Sir Arthur wants his son to marry another lady, and Arthur Noble
cannot marry without his father's consent. But, in the meantime, the
children are engaged, hoping for better days. And now there is a letter
from the dear fellow saying he will be here this evening. Only I am not
to tell Rachel, as he wants to surprise her. You will keep my counsel,
Miss Dacre?"

I murmured, "Oh, certainly;" but the things in the room were swimming
about strangely, and my wits were astray.

"And do you know, my dear (I feel I can trust you thoroughly), do you
know I am exceedingly glad of this for many reasons. I have noticed poor
young Hollingford! Rachel is an attractive creature, and I fear a little
inconsiderate. But the queen of beauty must be excused, my dear, and she
is a queen, our Rachel. We cannot help the moths getting round the
candle, can we?"

After this I curtsied, and made my escape as quickly as possible. "Poor
young Hollingford! Oh, John, John! why have you brought yourself so low
as this?" I cried across the wood to the farm chimneys.

My children, there is a rambling old garden at the back of the hall, a
spot which the sun never leaves. Wild tangles of shadow fall now as then
on the paths, from the gnarled branches of moss-eaten apple-trees. In
the season of fruit, blushing peaches and plums, yellow and transparent
as honey, hung from its ancient lichen-covered walls. Raspberry
brambles, borne out of their ranks by the weight of their crimson
berries, strayed across the path. There were bee-hives ranged against
the fiery creeper on the far-end wall, and the booming of the bees made
a drowsy atmosphere in the place. This, together with the odour of
stocks and wallflowers, was deliciously perceived as soon as your hand
lifted the latch of the little green door, and regretfully missed when
you closed it behind you.

You know it, my children. I need not tell you that it is a homely
retreat compared with the other gardens near, costly, curious, and prim,
where the beds are like enormous bouquets dropped on the grass, and the
comp