the dressing-room, and brought her two or three precious
parcels, which he would not, for the world, have given into any other
hands. He could hardly bear to look at her in her widow's cap, and
behaved to her with a manner varying between his deference and respect
to the Lady of Redclyffe, and his fatherly fondness for the wife of
'his boy.' As to her legal powers, he would have thought them foolishly
bestowed, if they had been conferred by any one save his own Sir Guy,
and he began by not much liking to act with her; but he found her so
clear-headed, that he was much surprised to find a woman could have so
much good sense, and began to look forward with some satisfaction to
being her prime minister. They understood each other very well; Amabel's
good sense and way of attending to the one matter in hand, kept her from
puzzling and alarming herself by thinking she had more to do than she
could ever understand or accomplish; she knew it was Guy's work, and a
charge he had given her,--a great proof of his confidence,--and she
did all that was required of her very well, so that matters were put in
train to be completed when she should be of age, in the course of the
next January.

When Markham left her she was glad to be alone, and to open her parcels.
There was nothing here to make her hysterical, for she was going to
contemplate the living soul, and felt almost, as if it was again being
alone with her husband. There were his most prized and used books,
covered with marks and written notes; there was Laura's drawing of
Sintram, which had lived with him in his rooms at Oxford; there was a
roll of music, and there was his desk. The first thing when she opened
it was a rough piece of spar, wrapped in paper, on which was written,
'M. A. D., Sept. 18.' She remembered what he had told her of little
Marianne's gift. The next thing made her heart thrill, for it was a slip
of pencilling in her own writing, 'Little things, on little wings, bear
little souls to heaven.'

Her own letters tied up together, those few that she had written in the
short time they were separated just before their marriage! Could that
be only six months ago? A great bundle of Charles's and of Mrs.
Edmonstone's; those she might like to read another time, but not now.
Many other papers letters signed S. B. Dixon, which she threw aside,
notes of lectures, and memoranda, only precious for the handwriting; but
when she came to the lower division; she found it fu