character was worse than his fortune, and had been left
a widow. Everybody thought her husband's death a blessing; but she loved
him, in spite of negligence and many grosser faults; and so, not many years
after, she died, leaving her little daughter to her brother's care, with
many a broken-voiced entreaty that he would never speak a word against
the dead father of her child. So the little Erminia was taken home by her
self-reproaching uncle, who felt now how hardly he had acted towards his
sister in breaking off all communication with her on her ill-starred
marriage.

"Where is Erminia, Frank?" asked his father, speaking over Maggie's
shoulder, while he still held her hand. "I want to take Mrs. Browne to your
mother. I told Erminia to be here to welcome this little girl."

"I'll take her to Minnie; I think she's in the garden. I'll come back to
you," nodding to Edward, "directly, and then we will go to the rabbits."

So Frank and Maggie left the great lofty room, full of strange rare
things, and rich with books, and went into the sunny scented garden, which
stretched far and wide behind the house. Down one of the walks, with a
hedge of roses on either side, came a little tripping fairy, with long
golden ringlets, and a complexion like a china rose. With the deep blue of
the summer sky behind her, Maggie thought she looked like an angel. She
neither hastened nor slackened her pace when she saw them, but came on with
the same dainty light prancing step.

"Make haste, Minnie," cried Frank.

But Minnie stopped to gather a rose.

"Don't stay with me," said Maggie, softly, although she had held his hand
like that of a friend, and did not feel that the little fairy's manner was
particularly cordial or gracious. Frank took her at her word, and ran off
to Edward.

Erminia came a little quicker when she saw that Maggie was left alone; but
for some time after they were together, they had nothing to say to each
other. Erminia was easily impressed by the pomps and vanities of the world;
and Maggie's new handsome frock seemed to her made of old ironed brown
silk. And though Maggie's voice was soft, with a silver ringing sound in
it, she pronounced her words in Nancy's broad country way. Her hair was cut
short all round; her shoes were thick, and clumped as she walked. Erminia
patronized her, and thought herself very kind and condescending; but they
were not particularly friendly. The visit promised to be more honorable
than a