as they walked
up-stairs to bed. 'Nobody could sit there because of the mosquitoes.
And I should like to see the snowdrops you found in November!'

'I know there were some white flowers. Were they lilies of the valley
for little Mary?'

'It will do just as well,' said Lucilla. She knew that she could bring
either scene before her mind with vivid distinctness, but shrinking from
the pain almost with horror, she only said, 'It's a pity you aren't a
Roman Catholic, Owen; you would soon find a hole in a rock, and say it
was where a saint, with his head under his arm, had made a footmark.'

'You are very irreverent, Lucy, and very cross besides. If you would not
come and tell us, what could we do?'

'Let it alone.'

'If you don't care for dear papa and mamma, I do,' said Owen, the tears
coming into his eyes.

'I'm not going to rake it up to please Honora,' returned his sister. 'If
you like to go and poke with her over places where things never happened,
you may, but she shan't meddle with my real things.'

'You are very unkind,' was the next accusation from Owen, much grieved
and distressed, 'when she is so good and dear, and was so fond of our
dear father.'

'I know,' said Lucilla, in a tone he did not understand; then, with an
air of eldership, ill assorting with their respective sizes, 'You are a
mere child. It is all very well for you, and you are very welcome to
your Sweet Honey.'

Owen insisted on hearing her meaning, and on her refusal to explain, used
his superior strength to put her to sufficient torture to elicit an
answer. 'Don't, Owen! Let go! There, then! Why, she was in love with
our father, and nearly died of it when he married; and Rashe says of
course she bullies me for being like my mother.'

'She never bullies you,' cried Owen, indignantly; 'she's much kinder to
you than you deserve, and I hate Ratia for putting it into your head, and
teaching you such nasty man's words about my own Honor.'

'Ah! you'll never be a man while you are under her. She only wants to
keep us a couple of babies for ever--sending us to bed, and making such a
figure of me;' and Lucy relieved her feelings by five perpendicular leaps
into the air, like an India-rubber ball, her hair flying out, and her
eyes flashing.

Owen was not much astonished, for Lucy's furies often worked off in this
fashion; but he was very angry on Honor's account, loving her thoroughly,
and perceiving no offence in her affection for