before appear in the cheek that was so round and smooth; the
muscles fall as in mortal illness; a havoc, as of years, seems to have
been wrought in a moment; flame itself does not so suddenly ravage--so
suddenly alter--leave behind it so ineffable an air of desolation and
ruin. Waife sprang forward and clasped her to his breast.

"You will bear it, Sophy! The worst is over now. Fortitude, my
child!--fortitude! The human heart is wonderfully sustained when it
is not the conscience that weighs it down-griefs, that we think at the
moment must kill us, wear themselves away. I speak the truth, for I too
have suffered!"

"Poor grandfather!" said Sophy, gently; and she said no more. But when
he would have continued to speak comfort, or exhort to patience, she
pressed his hand tightly, and laid her finger on her lip. He was hushed
in an instant.

Presently she began to move about the room, busying herself, as usual,
in those slight, scarce perceptible arrangements by which she loved to
think that she ministered to the old man's simple comforts. She placed
the armchair in his favourite nook by the window, and before it the
footstool for the poor lame foot; and drew the table near the chair,
and looked over the books that George had selected for his perusal from
Darrell's library; and chose the volume in which she saw his mark,
to place nearest to his hand, and tenderly cleared the mist from his
reading-glass; and removed one or two withered or ailing snowdrops from
the little winter nosegay she had gathered for him the day before--he
watching her all the time, silent as herself, not daring, indeed, to
speak, lest his heart should overflow.

These little tasks of love over, she came towards him a few paces, and
said: "Please, dear grandfather, tell me all about what has happened to
yourself, which should make us glad--that is, by-and-by; but nothing
as to the rest of that letter. I will just think over it by myself; but
never let us talk of it, grandy dear, never more--never more."

CHAPTER X.

TREES THAT, LIKE THE POPLAR, LIFT UPWARD ALL THEIR BOUGHS, GIVE NO
SHADE AND NO SHELTER, WHATEVER THEIR HEIGHT. TREES THE MOST
LOVINGLY SHELTER AND SHADE US, WHEN, LIKE THE WILLOW, THE HIGHER
SOAR THEIR SUMMITS, THE LOWLIER DROOP THEIR BOUGHS.

Usually when Sophy left Waife in the morning, she would wander out into
the grounds, and he could see her pass before his window; or she would
look into the library, which