he allusion might be taken.

A slight tinge of red coloured Mark's cheek, and his eye was lighted
with a look of pleasure. He felt the flattery in all its force, but did
not dare to trust himself with a reply.

"I wonder," said he, after a lengthened pause--"I wonder how Herbert
may feel on seeing, once more, our wild glen. Will these giant rocks and
bold ravines appeal to his heart with the same sympathies as ever; or
will the habits of the life he has left, cling to him still, and make
him think this grandeur only desolation?"

"You did not feel so, surely, Mark?" said Kate, as she turned upon him a
look of affectionate interest.

"Me?--I think so? No! This valley was to me a place of rest--a long
sought-for haven. I came not here from the gay and brilliant world,
rich in fascinations and pleasures. I had not lived among the great and
learned, to hear the humble estimate they have of our poor land. I came
back here like the mariner whose bark puts back shattered by the storm,
and baffled by the winds, unable to stem the tide that leads to fortune.
Yes, shipwrecked in every thing." "Herbert, Herbert," cried Kate.

At the same moment a chaise, advancing at full gallop, turned from the
road into the avenue towards the house. The boy caught sight of the
figures in the garden, flung open the door, and springing out, rushed
towards them.

"My dear, dear Kate," was his first exclamation, as he kissed her
affectionately; his next, in a tone of unqualified surprise, was--"What
a fine fellow you have grown, Mark!" and the two brothers were locked in
each other's arms.

The sentiment which thus burst from him in the first moment of surprise,
was the very counterpart of Mark's own feeling on beholding Herbert.
Time had worked favourably for both. On the elder brother, the stamp of
manhood more firmly impressed, had given an elevation to the expression
of his features, and a character of composure to his air; while with
Herbert, his career of study alternating with a life passed among
cultivated and polished circles, had converted the unformed stripling
into a youth of graceful and elegant demeanour. The change was even
greater in him than in his brother. In the one case it was, as it were,
but the growth and development of original traits of character; in
the other, new and very different features were distinguishable. His
thoughts, his expressions, his very accent was changed; yet through this
his old nature beamed forth