ear sister--some quiet guest, who would tire
neither of us."

"Miss Ainley?"

"An excellent person, they say; but she lives too far off. Tell Harry
Scott to step up to the rectory with a request from you that Caroline
Helstone should come and spend the evening with you."

"Would it not be better to-morrow, dear brother?"

"I should like her to see the place as it is just now; its brilliant
cleanliness and perfect neatness are so much to your credit."

"It might benefit her in the way of example."

"It might and must; she ought to come."

He went into the kitchen.

"Sarah, delay tea half an hour." He then commissioned her to dispatch
Harry Scott to the rectory, giving her a twisted note hastily scribbled
in pencil by himself, and addressed "Miss Helstone."

Scarcely had Sarah time to get impatient under the fear of damage to her
toast already prepared when the messenger returned, and with him the
invited guest.

She entered through the kitchen, quietly tripped up Sarah's stairs to
take off her bonnet and furs, and came down as quietly, with her
beautiful curls nicely smoothed, her graceful merino dress and delicate
collar all trim and spotless, her gay little work-bag in her hand. She
lingered to exchange a few kindly words with Sarah, and to look at the
new tortoise-shell kitten basking on the kitchen hearth, and to speak to
the canary-bird, which a sudden blaze from the fire had startled on its
perch; and then she betook herself to the parlour.

The gentle salutation, the friendly welcome, were interchanged in such
tranquil sort as befitted cousins meeting; a sense of pleasure, subtle
and quiet as a perfume, diffused itself through the room; the
newly-kindled lamp burnt up bright; the tray and the singing urn were
brought in.

"I am pleased to come home," repeated Mr. Moore.

They assembled round the table. Hortense chiefly talked. She
congratulated Caroline on the evident improvement in her health. Her
colour and her plump cheeks were returning, she remarked. It was true.
There was an obvious change in Miss Helstone. All about her seemed
elastic; depression, fear, forlornness, were withdrawn. No longer
crushed, and saddened, and slow, and drooping, she looked like one who
had tasted the cordial of heart's ease, and been lifted on the wing of
hope.

After tea Hortense went upstairs. She had not rummaged her drawers for a
month past, and the impulse to perform that operation was now become
resistless.