ed himself about the domestic happiness that he felt he
had missed, though he looked forward with fresh interest to the time
when his intelligent little daughters would be companions for him, and
began, half unconsciously, to idealise the character of his late wife,
as if her death had cost him a true companion--as if, in fact, it had
not made him much nobler and far happier.

He was not sorry, when he returned home, to find Valentine eager to get
away for a little while, for it had been agreed that the old man should
not be left by both of them. Valentine was improved; his comfortable and
independent position in his uncle's house, where his presence was so
evidently regarded as an advantage, had made him more satisfied with
himself; and absence from Dorothea had enabled him to take an interest
in other women.

He went away in high spirits and capital health, and John subsided into
his usual habits, his children continuing to grow about him. He was
still a head taller than his eldest son, but this did not promise to be
long the case. And his eldest girls were so clever, and so forward with
their education, that he was increasingly anxious to propitiate Miss
Crampton. It was very difficult to hold the balance even; he scarcely
knew how to keep her at a distance, and yet to mark his sense of her
value.

"I am going to see the Brandons to-morrow," he remarked to Miss Christie
one day, just before the Christmas holidays.

"Then I wish ye would take little Nancy with ye," observed the good
lady, "for Dorothea was here yesterday. Emily is come to stay with them,
and she drove her over. Emily wished to see the child, and when she
found her gone out for her walk she was disappointed."

"What did she want with her?" asked John.

"Well, I should have thought it might occur to ye that the sweet lamb
had perhaps some sacred reason for feeling attracted towards the
smallest creatures she could conveniently get at."

"Let the nestling bird be dressed up, then," said John. "I will drive
her over with me to lunch this morning. Poor Emily! she will feel seeing
the child."

"Not at all. She has been here twice to see the two little ones. At
first she would only watch them over the blinds, and drop a few tears;
but soon she felt the comfort of them, and when she had got a kiss or
two, she went away more contented."

Accordingly John drove his smallest daughter over to Wigfield House,
setting her down rosy and smiling from her w