ined of,
Who to no one man
Shows partiality,
Brings round to all men
Some undimm'd hours.'

MATTHEW ARNOLD.

In future days Audrey always looked back upon those seven weeks at
Braemar with the same feelings with which one recalls the memory of some
lake embosomed in hills, that one has seen sleeping in the sunlight, and
in which only tranquil images were reflected--the branch of some
drooping sapling, or some bird's wing as it skimmed across the glassy
surface.

Just so one day after another glided away in smooth enjoyment and
untroubled serenity, and not a discordant breath ruffled the two
households.

The house that Dr. Ross had taken had originally been two good-sized
cottages, and though the rooms were small, there were plenty of them;
and a little careful adjustment of the scanty furniture, and a few
additional nicknacks, transformed the parlour into a pleasant
sitting-room. Geraldine wondered and admired when she came across, the
first morning after their arrival. Audrey had arranged her own and
Michael's books on the empty shelves; the little mirror, and indeed the
whole mantelpiece, was festooned and half hidden with branches laden
with deep crimson rowan-berries, mixed with heather and silvery-leafed
honesty; a basket of the same rowan-berries occupied the centre of the
round table; an Oriental scarf draped the ugly horsehair sofa, and a
comfortable-looking rug was thrown over the shabby easy-chair. The
fishing-tackle, butterfly-nets, pipes, and all other heterogeneous
matters, were consigned to a small bare apartment, known as 'Michael's
den,' and which soon became a lumber-room.

Geraldine looked at her sister's handiwork with great approval. She
considered her father's household was magnificently lodged; she and her
husband had taken up their quarters in a much less commodious
cottage--their tiny parlour would hardly hold four people comfortably,
and the ceiling was so low that Mr. Harcourt always felt as though he
must knock his head against the rafters. When any of the Ross party
called on them, they generally adjourned to the small sloping garden,
and conversed among the raspberry-bushes.

It was delightful to see Geraldine's enjoyment of these primitive
surroundings. The young mistress of Hillside seemed transformed into
another person. Percival's clever contrivances, their little makeshifts,
their odd picnic life, were all fruitful topics of conversation.