say. It was now fearfully rough, for the wind became more boisterous every minute, and, had these women moved, it would have been a hard matter indeed to have reached the ship in safety: hard work it was, anyhow. But at length, after more than an hour, they came alongside. Those on board who looked down at the boat were indeed surprised when, on the officer saying 'You may get up now,' two figures rose from the heap of articles in the middle of the boat; and joyful indeed were the poor women themselves, for they had been exceedingly frightened by the pitching and tossing. They told their husbands how kind the officer had been to them, and they enquired his name. He, however, thought no more about them, as he had plenty of things to attend to immediately. The ship did not sail quite as early the next day as had been expected, and just before she weighed anchor, a boat was seen coming towards her, and a young man handed up a basket which he said was to be given to the officer who had taken the two women out to the ship the day before. The basket was taken to him, and he opened it, and found a fine fat duck ready for dressing! and also a letter, full of thanks for his kindness to the woman who had sent it. She hoped he would not be offended,' she said, ' by the liberty she was taking in offering him the duck, as she had no other means of expressing her gratitude for his kindness to herself and her friend, and it was one which she had fatted herself on good meal.' He accepted it, of course, as he would have displeased the poor woman by refusing it; but he said he did not deserve any thanks, as he had had no trouble at all, for they were the best behaved women he had ever seen in a boat on a stormy sea. He sent back some kind messages and thanks by the young man, and when the duck was dressed for the officers' dinner they agreed that they had never tasted so good an one before."

"What a nice story," said Fanny, taking a long breath.

"So I think," said Margaret; "it is so pleasant to hear of kindness and of gratitude."

Nurse would quite approve of that present, don't you think so, Miss Stourton ?" said Maude; "it is just the kind of thing that would please her."

"I shall tell her the story when I go to bed," said Oliver, decidedly. They had reached the end of the garden walk, and emerged from its shade into light again-comparative light, that is; for the sun had set some little time. Margaret stopped, and told them to listen. How quiet it is," she said; "the birds even are scarcely making any sound. You can hear the river plainly now. How pretty those tiny clouds are, still tinted with colour."

They walked slowly on till they came to a little rustic seat, but Margaret only allowed them to sit there a few minutes, for fear of their catching cold, as it was getting rather damp. She pictured to herself the party at her own home, and fancied them sitting out in their little garden. Perhaps, too, they had had tea out of doors, for the weather was dry enough even for her father not to be afraid of being a good deal in the open air. Perhaps Mrs.

Asheton had driven over to see them, she often took an evening drive in the summer; perhaps they had been talking about her, and wishing they could see her, and have her among them again. How she should like to see them all! She began talking to Maude about her home as she did sometimes when she felt unusually home-sick, and Maude was always delighted to listen. The two younger children she sent in first, as she thought Mrs. Watson would wonder what had become of them; and she and her little companion took one short turn more, that they might look at the moon rising. It makes those who are far off seem near, if you fancy them at the same time with yourself looking at the same object; and now Margaret and Maude pleased themselves by fancying those they loved best contemplating the rising crescent as she grew brighter and brighter, and seemed to glide so quickly past the tall trees in the park.

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"How I wish I could write poetry: Can you, Miss Stourton ?" Margaret smiled. Should you put all that we have been saying into poetry ?" she enquired, in answer to Maude's question.

"I don't know; yes, I think I should; at least, some of it,I should put what you have been saying into poetry. I liked what you said about the quiet stillness making us feel as if we were something like our own spirits walking by the side of ourselves, so that we seem to see ourselves, and as if we were the good separated from. the bad."

"You are expressing it rather funnily," said Margaret, with a smile.

you not ?"

"Well, but you did say that, did "Hark! there is Mrs. Watson's voice; she will scold me for keeping you out so late; run in, dear."

"Tell me what you meant, then, some other time, and write it in poetry for me."

"I don't promise the last," Margaret answered, laughing. "Good night, my darling," she added, kissing the child.

Margaret was rather fond of "vague imaginings;" she did not often talk of them to her pupils, but the one which she had mentioned that night was an idea which had often occurred to her when walking or sitting out in the quiet of a summer night, or as she leaned from her window and watched the stars. Her fancy was, that at such times the more spiritual part of her nature became as it were a separate existence, and that she could compare, as from a little distance, her daily life, its thoughts, feelings, and actions, with the better motives, the nobler resolves, the higher, purer tone of that other self of whose supposed identity she became conscious, when, at rest from worldly occupations, her mind, unfettered, could range at will in the calm holy quiet of the starry night. Whether she did ever put this idea of hers into poetry or not Maude could not discover, as Margaret told her the next day, when Maude again begged for the poetical edition, that she must be content with the prose.

In reply to a letter which Margaret wrote to her brother, in which

she told him of Mr. Leslie's visit to the pictures in the dining-room at Northcourt, William said Mr. Leslie went to London on business, and afterwards delayed his return home that he might pay his nephew, Mr. Greville Stratton, a visit of a few days. It was doubtless during that visit that he drove over from Stratton Park to Northcourt.

CHAPTER XI.

"Each at his proper ease, as they had been
Nursed in the liberty of old Sherwood,

And wore the livery of Robin Hood,

Who wont in forest Shades to dine and sup”—

Hood.

Lady Harriett Colvin came one day to Northcourt with a letter from Lady North, which empowered Margaret to invite some of her own family to pay her a visit. Margaret's pleasure and gratitude for the thought were great, as may be supposed; and about a week after she had the delight of welcoming her father and mother and Lucy; the two former to stay a week, the latter three.

Captain Stourton having finished the repairs of his house, had had a most unexpected opportunity of letting it for a month, and had just closed with the offer for it, when Margaret's letter, with part of Lady North's to Lady Harriett enclosed, reached them. So they at once determined, long as the journey was, to go and see Margaret, and then to visit several old friends. The week which her parents spent with her was, she thought, one of the most delightful she had ever passed. They were charmed to find her looking so well and so happy; they were delighted with the children, and much pleased to make acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Shirley, who were kind friends to Margaret. Sir Gaspard and Lady Howick called on them, and they all spent an afternoon, ending with an early dinner, on account of the children, at Howick. To the children it was a very great pleasure also, for Captain and Mrs. Stourton were extremely kind to them; and as to Lucy, she played with them, sang to them, and told them stories, till Margaret said she was thoroughly spoiling them; however, it cannot be said that she took any steps to prevent the "spoiling."

Soon after Captain and Mrs. Stourton left, there was a great pic-nic, the guests at which consisted of Margaret and her sister and the North children, Mr. and Mrs. Shirley and their children, and two young Mr. Shirleys, nephews of the Rector, a Mr. and Miss May, and a friend of theirs, Mr. Rivers.

The Mays lived at a curious old house called the Manor, but they had been a long time from home, and had so recently returned that Margaret had not seen them before. Mrs. Shirley had proposed that, as they must all go by the same road to the forest where the

pic-nic was to take place, they should all start together, to which plan every one was quite prepared to agree. So the end of the beech avenue was chosen as the place of rendezvous, and they were to assemble there at twelve o'clock.

The morning was not bright; but before twelve the gradual clearing off of the mist made it very certain that a lovely afternoon was to follow. The younger members of the Shirley party had been at Northcourt very early, arranging with Oliver about donkey-carts and tandems. It was a whole holiday in honour of Sir Roger's birthday, and Oliver was determined to make it as long a day as possible, by getting up before six o'clock. The tandem plans were profoundly secret excepting to Margaret, whose consent had to be obtained; but Edward Shirley was known to be remarkable for his driving powers, and as his uncle had said to his own boys, "Oh, you may do what you like if Edward says there is no danger," Margaret had allowed Õliver the same extent of freedom. Just before twelve o'clock, therefore, as she went down all ready to start, she was not surprised to hear a great driving up of vehicles, shouts of laughter, and loudly-given directions; and, running to the open door, she was in time to behold two tandem "donkey-carts," (one, however, on this occasion, it must be stated, was drawn by two ponies); and there was also a pony carriage with a pair of ponies, not tandem fashion, while a mixed multitude of grooms, helpers, gentlemen and children were joining in various ways in the fun. chariot, of course, contained its charioteer. The donkey tandem, which had been judiciously placed in the rear of the three conveyances, required considerable exertion to get it to follow at the right distance while they made a grand sweep round the broad gravel space before the house, and then drew up with great effect before the front door. Miss May was in her brother's carriage; Maude ran across to speak to her.

Each

"Won't you get into my chariot, Miss Stourton ?" Edward Shirley said; "I hope for the honour of driving you."

"Oh, thank you," Margaret answered; "but I meant to walk up to our place of rendezvous. Let me see you drive as far as that, and then I shall be better able to decide whether or not I may trust myself to you."

'Miss Stourton! do you mean to convey to me the idea that you mistrust my ability to drive so elegant a turn-out as this; or am I to believe that you are very timid ?"

"I am not unreasonably timid, I think," she replied; "but of course I should like to see whether I can have that confidence in your driving which I hear everybody else has."

"Oh! I see exactly what you mean; you think my friends have puffed me up till they have made me conceited; however, severe as you are, I shall again do myself the honour of offering you a place when we are at the end of the avenue."

In the mean time Margaret had been occupied in arranging how her children were to go. Maude was in Mr. May's carriage, Fanny

and Oliver and the younger of the two Mr. Shirleys, and one of his cousins, were all in the donkey tandem; another young Shirley was at the head of one of the donkeys; and a little groom boy, son of the coachman, at the head of the other. These last were fully occupied and entirely happy. Their cart was filled with nice fresh straw to save them a little from the jolts, which, however, they would not own to feeling, and they were attended by the coachman, whose devotion to the party left Margaret quite at ease about them. Their donkeys were adorned with ribbons and flowers, the arrangement of which had occupied Oliver and Fanny a good deal during the preceding day or two.

Mr. May drove off, and Mr. Shirley after him. The ponies driven by the latter had never been tandem before; one of them indeed had scarcely been in harness at all, and few besides Edward Shirley could have driven them as he did; but his self-possession and extreme gentleness and tact with horses were quite wonderful; and away they went as nicely as possible. When he had reached the end of the broad avenue, he turned round, drove back to the house, taking off his hat as he passed the two Miss Stourtons, and, again turning, pulled up just as he and they reached the avenue gate.

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that

Now, Miss Stourton," he said; "I hope you are satisfied, and you and your sister will condescend to mount my chariot." However, there was a great re-settling of arrangements, and finally Miss May, Margaret, and Alice Shirley were, to Edward Shirley's entire satisfaction, consigned to his care. They all reached the place chosen for the pic-nic without meeting with any disasters, although the narrow escapes of turning over into ditches and driving against banks had been both exciting and amusing. But as they went at rather a slow pace the danger was comparatively small. Margaret found Miss May a pleasant companion. Before the dinner preparations were completed, they took a stroll together to look at the view from rather higher ground, and to see whether a turn of the road which they had passed, where a tree had lately been felled, would not make a good subject for a sketch for Lucy, who drew very nicely.

Miss May was delighted with Margaret, she thought she should find in her a very nice friend. She had none of her own age near home, and she had often felt the want of one. Emily North she liked much, but Emily had been so delicate, and so often from home on that account, that she did not really know her very intimately. Besides, she very much liked the idea of a friend to whom she could look up. She was only eighteen, and Margaret being just twentythree, she thought her a very superior person to herself, although at the same time a suitable companion. They both found that their tastes and ideas suited in many ways extremely well.

"I should think you must often have felt very lonely, Miss Stourton, have you not?" said Miss May, "since you came to Northcourt ?"

"No, scarcely at all," replied Margaret. And then she went on