curred about four years previous to the date of this history.

Amabel was delighted with her new abode, and she experienced the
kindness of a parent from her aunt, with whom, owing to circumstances,
she had not hitherto been personally acquainted, having only seen her
when too young to retain any recollection of the event. The widow of a
farmer, who had resided on Lord Craven's estate near Kingston Lisle,
Mrs. Buscot, after her husband's death, had been engaged as housekeeper
at Ashdown Lodge, and had filled the situation for many years to the
entire satisfaction of her employer. She was two or three years older
than her brother, Mr. Bloundel; but the perfect health she enjoyed, and
which she attributed to the salubrious air of the downs, combined with
her natural cheerfulness of disposition, made her look much the younger
of the two. Her features, besides their kindly and benevolent
expression, were extremely pleasing, and must, some years ago, have been
beautiful. Even now, what with her fresh complexion, her white teeth,
and plump figure, she made no slight pretensions to comeliness. She
possessed the same good sense and integrity of character as her brother,
together with his strong religious feeling, but entirely unaccompanied
by austerity.

Having no children, she was able to bestow her entire affections upon
Amabel, whose sad story, when she became acquainted with it, painfully
affected her; nor was she less concerned at her precarious state of
health. For the first day or two after their arrival, Amabel suffered
greatly from the effects of the journey; but after that time, she gained
strength so rapidly, that Mrs. Buscot, who at first had well-nigh
despaired of her recovery, began to indulge a hope. The gentle sufferer
would sit throughout the day with her aunt and Nizza Macascree in the
gallery near the belvedere, inhaling the pure breeze blowing from the
surrounding hills, and stirring the tree-tops beneath her.

"I never expected so much happiness," she observed, on one occasion, to
Mrs. Buscot, "and begin to experience the truth of Doctor Hodges'
assertion, that with returning health, the desire of life would return.
I now wish to live."

"I am heartily glad to hear you say so," replied Mrs. Buscot, "and hold
it a certain sign of your speedy restoration to health. Before you have
been a month with me, I expect to bring back the roses to those pale
cheeks."

"You are too sanguine, I fear, dear aunt," rej