lf. And every time she saw Mr. Shubrick she feared
lest the dreaded words would fall from his lips. So when he came to her
one afternoon when she was sitting in the porch, her heart gave a throb
of anticipation. However, he said nothing of going, but remarked how
pretty the sloping ground looked, on the other side of the little
river, with its giant trees and the sunlight streaming through the
branches upon the greensward.

"It is very pretty," said Dolly. "The park is beautiful. You ought to
see it"--_before you go_, she was on the point of saying, but did not
say.

"Will you come with me, and show me what I ought to look at?"

"Now?" said Dolly.

"If it is not too warm for you. We might take it easily and keep in the
shadow of the trees."

"Oh, it is not too warm," said Dolly; and she ran to fetch her garden
hat.

It was not August now; the summer was past, yet the weather was fit for
the height of summer. Warm, spicy, dry air, showing misty in the
distance like a gossamer veil, and near by a still glow over
everything. The two young people wandered over the bridge and slowly
mounted the bank among the oaks and beeches, keeping in the shade as
much as might be. There was a glorious play of shadow and sunlight all
over the woodland; and the two went softly along, hardly disturbing the
wild creatures that looked at them now and then. For the woods were
full of life. They saw a hare cross an opening, and grey squirrels eyed
them from the great oak branches overhead; and there was a soft hum of
insects filling all the silence. It was not the time of day for the
birds to be merry. Nor perhaps for the human creatures who slowly
passed from tree to tree, avoiding the spaces of sunlight and summer
glow. They were neither merry nor talked much.

"This is very noble," said Sandie at last.

"Were you ever in England before, Mr. Shubrick?"

"Yes."

"Then you have seen many of these fine places already, perhaps?"

"No, not many. My stay has been mostly in London; though I did run down
a little into the country."

"People say we have nothing like this in America."

"True, I suppose," said Sandie. "We are too young a people, and we have
had something else to do."

"It is like a dream, that anybody should have such a house and such a
place as Brierley," Dolly went on. "There is nothing wanting that one
can imagine, for beauty and dignity and delight of living and luxury of
ease. It might be the Arabian Nights, or f