t inconsiderable fortune. But she refused all
offers, and to the best of our knowledge was a free-hearted damsel
still. Her father and mother seemed rather glad of this than
otherwise. They would not have denied her any happiness she wished
for; still it was evidently a relief to them that she was slow in
choosing it; slow in quitting their arms of love to risk a love
untried. Sometimes, such is the weakness of parental humanity, I
verily believe they looked forward with complacency to the possibility
of her remaining always Miss Halifax. I remember one day, when Lady
Oldtower was suggesting--half jest, half earnest--"better any marriage
than no marriage at all;" Maud's father replied, very seriously--

"Better no marriage, than any marriage that is less than the best."

"How do you mean?"

"I believe," he said, smiling, "that somewhere in the world every man
has his right wife, every woman her right husband. If my Maud's come
he shall have her. If not, I shall be well content to see her a happy
old maid."

Thus after many storms, came this lull in our lives; a season of busy
yet monotonous calm,--I have heard say that peace itself, to be
perfect, ought to be monotonous. We had enough of it to satisfy our
daily need; we looked forward to more of it in time to come, when Guy
should be at home, when we should see safely secured the futures of all
the children, and for ourselves a green old age,

"Journeying in long serenity away."

A time of heavenly calm--which as I look back upon it grows heavenlier
still! Soft summer days and autumn afternoons, spent under the
beech-wood, or on the Flat. Quiet winter evenings, all to
ourselves--Maud and her mother working, Walter drawing. The father
sitting with his back to the lamp--its light making a radiance over his
brow and white bald crown, and as it thrilled through the curls behind,
restoring somewhat of the youthful colour to his fading hair. Nay, the
old youthful ring of his voice I caught at times, when he found
something funny in his book and read it out loud to us; or laying it
down, sat talking as he liked to talk about things speculative,
philosophical, or poetical--things which he had necessarily let slip in
the hurry and press of his business life, in the burthen and heat of
the day; but which now, as the cool shadows of evening were drawing on,
assumed a beauty and a nearness, and were again caught up by
him--precious as the dreams of his youth.