bury Heath--the axe that
severed her mother's 'slender neck'--the pistol-crowned stick of her
father--the dark cage where her favourite Raleigh was mewed--and the
whole series of the relics of the disgraces and the glories of England's
royal line--well fitted, indeed, to strike the imagination of one who had
grown up in the New World without antiquity.

If it were a satisfaction to be praised and thanked for this expedition,
Phoebe had it; for on her return she was called into Owen's room, where
his first words to her were of thanks for her good-nature to his friend.

'I am sure it was nothing but a pleasure,' she said. 'It happened that
Robert had some boys whom he wanted to take.' Somehow she did not wish
Owen to think she had done it on his own account.

'And you liked him?' asked Owen.

'Yes, very much indeed,' she heartily said.

'Ah! I knew you would;' and he lay back as if fatigued. Then, as Phoebe
was about to leave him, he added--'I can't get my ladies to heed anything
but me. You and Robert must take pity on him, if you please. Get him to
Westminster Abbey, or the Temple Church, or somewhere worth seeing
to-morrow. Don't let them be extortionate of his waiting on me. I must
learn to do without him.'

Phoebe promised, and went.

'Phoebe is grown what one calls a fine young woman instead of a sweet
girl,' said Owen to his sister, when she next came into the room; 'but
she has managed to keep her innocent, half-wondering look, just as she
has the freshness of her colour.'

'Well, why not, when she has not had one _real_ experience?' said
Lucilla, a little bitterly.

'None?' he asked, with a marked tone.

'None,' she answered, and he let his hand drop with a sigh; but as if
repenting of any half betrayal of feeling, added, 'she has had all her
brothers and sisters at sixes and sevens, has not she?'

'Do you call that a real experience?' said Lucilla, almost with disdain,
and the conversation dropped.

Owen's designs for his friend's Sunday fell to the ground. The
backwoodsman fenced off the proposals for his pleasure, by his wish to be
useful in the sick-room; and when told of Owen's desire, was driven to
confess that he did not wish for fancy church-going on his first English
Sunday. There was enough novelty without that; the cathedral service was
too new for him to wish to hear it for the first time when there was so
much that was unsettling.

Honor, and even Robert, were a little disapp