ible" by the doctors long ago, at
the time of her first sufferings. She has several times, for the last
fortnight, been moved from her couch for a few hours to a comfortable
seat near the window; and if the fine weather still continues, she is to
be taken out, in a day or two, for an airing in an invalid chair.

The prospect of this happy event, and the pleasant expectation of
Zack's return, have made Valentine more gaily talkative and more nimbly
restless than ever. As he skips discursively about the room at this
moment, talking of all sorts of subjects, and managing to mix Art up
with every one of them; dressed in the old jaunty frock-coat with
the short tails, he looks, if possible, younger, plumper, rosier, and
brisker than when he was first introduced to the reader. It is wonderful
when people are really youthful at heart, to see how easily the Girdle
of Venus fits them, and how long they contrive to keep it on, without
ever wearing it out.

Mrs. Peckover, arrived in festively-flaring cap-ribbons, sits close to
the window to get all the air she can, and tries to make more of it by
fanning herself with the invariable red cotton pocket-handkerchief to
which she has been all her life attached. In bodily circumference
she has not lost an inch of rotundity; suffers, in consequence,
considerably, from the heat; and talks to Mr. Blyth with parenthetical
pantings, which reflect little credit on the cooling influence of the
breeze, or the ventilating properties of the pocket-handkerchief fan.

Madonna sits opposite to her at the window--as cool and pretty a
contrast as can be imagined, in her white muslin dress, and light
rose-coloured ribbons. She is looking at Mrs. Peckover, and smiling
every now and then at the comically languishing faces made by that
excellent woman, to express to "little Mary" the extremity of her
sufferings from the heat. The whole length of the window-sill is
occupied by an AEolian harp--one of the many presents which Valentine's
portrait painting expeditions have enabled him to offer to his wife.
Madonna's hand is resting lightly on the box of the harp; for by
touching it in this way, she becomes sensible to the influence of its
louder and higher notes when the rising breeze draws them out. This is
the only pleasure she can derive from music; and it is always, during
the summer and autumn evenings, one of the amusements that she enjoys in
Mrs. Blyth's room.

Mrs. Thorpe, in the course of her con