to say how many things had prevented it. First, the Rectory being little more than ten minutes' walk across the park, enabled her at any time to be with kind pleasant friends in a few minutes. And then, there were Lady Harriett's visits, which had been pretty frequent. Her own room and the school-room being close to the nursery, where Mrs. Watson always was to be found, prevented the house itself from seeming desolate and uninhabited. "But the thing of all others which has really prevented my feeling lonely is, I believe, that I have been so fully occupied," continued Margaret; "I generally go to bed much about the same time as the children, as I get up early, for I find it very necessary to work hard by myself as well as with them; and there is nothing like work to keep away ennui, or depression, you know."

I wish I was industrious, like you," answered Miss May. "I can't get on alone, I find; there are so often little interruptions, too. I hardly know why, but I always do find reading steadily such a very difficult thing to manage."

"You don't feel inclined to come and read with me sometimes ?" "Oh, Miss Stourton, you are not in earnest, are you? It would be so delightful; but you do not really mean that you would have time to spare or spend for me?"

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Why the time would be the same as that I now take for myself. Instead of my reading alone, as I do now for a certain time every day, we might read together; take it in turn to read to each other, I

“That would indeed be charming; it is the very thing I should like, and my mother would be enchanted. You know," she added, "but perhaps, though, you don't know, that my mother is a great invalid; she cannot walk at all, although she is somewhat better than she used to be."

'Yes, Mrs. Shirley mentioned it when first she spoke of you to me," said Margaret; "though, until last week I had scarcely heard either of you or your family."

Well," said Miss May, "it consists of my brother, who is here to day; he is the eldest of us, and has been six years in India; he is in the army; and I have also another brother in the army; and a sister who is married, and who lives in Ireland, with whom we have lately been staying."

A horn blowing at that moment, roused Margaret and her companion to recollection of the dinner, which was to be announced as on table" by a series of blasts, the loudest which Oliver could perform upon a hunting horn.

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"Where have you both been ?" was the exclamation which greeted them when they reached the rest of the party. "Mr. May, and Edward Shirley, and Freddy, and I don't know who besides, are gone to look for you."

"Are they indeed! why, we have only been a very little way." "Make haste, Noll, and blow away on that horn of yours again; or stay, lend it to me," said the younger Shirley; and he blew a tre

E

mendous blast, to which he added a "view halloo," which made the woods ring, and soon brought the others back.

"A regular case of Robin Hood and his merry men," said Mr. Shirley.

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Only there is rather a larger assemblage of 'Maid Marians' than was usual," suggested Edward.

The

The pic-nic now began in earnest, and the party were all so hungry after their long drive, that the fullest justice was done to the numerous pies, puddings, tarts, &c. &c., spread before them; which rapidly disappeared from public view after the attack upon them had once begun, proving at the same time their own excellence and that of the appetites of the assembled company. Songs were sung. and stories were told, and all the party were as happy and merry as possible. The spot they had chosen was just the place for a pic-nic -half way up a gently sloping hill, where the beach trees were large and not too close to each other. Their beautiful stems and the light grace of their foliage shewed in great perfection. ground was covered with short close grass, and a quantity of fern grew all around. It was a lovely bit of sylvan scenery. The view before them, too, was both extensive and beautiful. Mr. Rivers was extremely droll; he had a quaint, dry way of saying things which made you laugh, you scarcely knew why, and Edward Shirley knew how to draw him out, and he got him to relate many amusing stories. He had just been telling them one about the alarm experienced by a party of Londoners at a pic-nic, owing to the surprising evolutions and movements of their dishes and plates, which had been spread upon a large table-cloth on the ground. He described the way in which they had sat staring at the table-cloth, holding their knives and forks uplifted in their hands, till, upon one adventurous citizen seizing a large pie, and putting it suddenly down where the heaving cloth was highest, the pie had bounded back almost into his face, and with a general scream, knives, forks, spoons, had been thrown away, and setting off with a rush down a steep hill, the whole party never once stopped till they reached the bottom where a river impeded further flight.

"What was it?" said Fanny, her eyes wide open, while Oliver who had guessed, looked the picture of amusement.

"Fairies ?" asked a little boy.

"No," said Mr. Rivers,-"There! there is one of them, I declare," he exclaimed.

"Oh,-rabbits, Ha, ha, ha! rabbits, of course," said all the children. Oh how foolish the people were to be so frightened."

One story led to another, till after awhile all the party felt inclined to be strolling about again. Edward Shirley sounded a loud blast on Oliver's horn, by way of signal that dinner was over, when, as he finished, a voice was heard calling "Halloo! there; Halloo! there!"

Hallo, indeed! who can that be, I wonder," said Edward. "H-e-re," called the voice again.

"Let us go and see what is the matter there," said one of the party, and away down the slope, bounding over the fern towards a belt of trees, ran several of them.

"Don't go far, dear," said Margaret to Oliver.

"No I won't, and I'll blow my horn if you are wanted."

The servants, who had been recalled by the horn, were now to be left to the discussion of their share of the pic-nic repast; so those of the ladies and gentlemen who had not gone down the hill, moved away in another direction. Margaret and Miss May, however, went to see what kept those who had answered the calls from below. In a few minutes they came in sight of a group of people standing round a horse.

"Some accident, I fear," said Miss May.

"Yes, I am afraid so," answered Margaret. "See, Edward Shirley is examining the horse now. Oh, look, it is dreadfully lame." They quickened their pace to a run, and soon distinguished a gentleman without his hat, standing with his back to them; the right sleeve of his coat was torn from the shoulder to the elbow, and Mr. May was feeling his arm.

"Oh! that's right," said young Shirley, when he saw Margaret coming towards them. "Miss Stourton is sure to have some sticking-plaster." The stranger gentleman looked round, and as he did so, both he and Margaret gave a little start of surprise.

"How do you do," he said.

“Quite well, thank you," she answered; "I hope you are not much hurt."

"Oh no, I believe not. It is a very stupid business, but nothing more I think," he replied, with a smile. Margaret had taken out her little pocket-book as she saw that sticking-plaster might be useful; and she was proceeding to cut a piece, for the gentleman shewed her a long deep cut on his forehead, over which he had been holding his handkerchief. "Let me sit down," he said, "the pain in my shoulder makes me feel rather faint, somehow or other." Oh, there is plenty of water, and wine, too," said Margaret. "Edward Shirley is gone for some; he told me so," said Oliver, "I'll run and tell him to be quick."

Margaret cut the plaster into two or three strips, and put it carefully over the wound, holding it firmly down with her handkerchief. Her patient did not speak; he looked dreadfully pale. Mr. May was kneeling on the ground, supporting him.

"I'm better now," he said, after a few minutes. "I shall be all right directly." His looks, however, rather belied his words. Edward had now returned with a bottle of wine, followed by a servant, with water and a glass; and after drinking some wine and bathing his forehead, the gentleman seemed really better.

"I am immensely indebted to you all," he said, "I hope I need give no further trouble." On attempting to rise, however, he still found himself so faint that he was obliged to wait a little longer.

Before Margaret came he had told Edward Shirley how the accident happened. His horse, which was an old hunter, and which had carried him over the roughest country, had managed to stumble or catch his foot. Thinking him particulary safe, his rider had ventured through a part of the forest where there was no regular track, and when trotting along at no great pace, he found himself suddenly thrown to the ground, the horse also rolling over. So instantaneous had been the whole thing, that he scarcely knew he had been thrown till he was actually lying on the grass, at some little distance below the place where he was riding the moment before. The horse, which seemed much frightened, had walked towards him, and he had caught it and led it down into the road below-if road it could be called-for it was little more than a rough path; and then, hearing voices, and the blast of a hunting horn, he had called out in the hope of getting assistance, as his horse was too much hurt for him to mount it again; not, however, supposing that he was thus disturbing a pic-nic party."

Of course he was assured that they were only too glad to have been within call.

It was arranged that he should join the party, as he would not hear of being driven back at once to Mr. Shirley's, saying that he was really getting better, although it was evident that he was in a great deal of pain. His horse was taken to a cottage at a little distance where there was a stable. He introduced himself to Mr. Shirley, but Margaret had already been asked who he was by those who had witnessed the recognition between them.

He made himself as pleasant as any one in pain could, but it was evident that he was suffering a great deal. As it had not been intended to stay late, Mr. Shirley soon ordered the carriages; and to Margaret's satisfaction she saw Mr. Stratton (for he it was) driven off by Mrs. Shirley in her easy little pony chair. The rest went home in nearly the same order as that in which they had come.

Mr. Stratton accepted Mr. Shirley's offer of a bed at the Rectory, and the doctor was sent for. He was out, however, and did not arrive for some time. When he had made his examination he pronounced that there was a severe sprain of the shoulder, but this unfortunately was not all the mischief, for the small bone of the arm was discovered to be badly fractured, and owing to the delay which had occurred since the accident happened, the arm had become so swelled and stiff that setting the bone was a rather troublesome and most painful affair, besides which there was some danger of inflammation.

CHAPTER XII.

"Have we not all, amid life's petty strife,
Some pure ideal of noble life ?"

A. Procter.

Mr. Stratton talked of going to his own house on the following day, but allowed himself to be persuaded that this was out of the

question, Mr. and Mrs. Shirley both begging him to remain at the Rectory. In two or three days he was so much recovered that he again talked of moving, but Mrs. Shirley, finding that if he went home he would be quite alone, prevailed on him to prolong his stay till the end of the week then just begun, that he might be within easy reach of the doctor who had hitherto attended him, Stratton Park being several miles off. Every thing in short was said that could make him feel he was giving pleasure by remaining where he was. Mr. Shirley who often felt the absence of gentleman's society, very much enjoyed having so agreeable a companion in his house, and it must be confessed that Mr. Stratton certainly had no disinclination to do as he was asked.

Margaret, Lucy, and the children, were as usual often at the Rectory, and Mr. Stratton saw a good deal of them; and when he was able to walk about, he often strolled into the park, where he not unfrequently met them. He also went with Mrs. Shirley to see the pictures more than once in the gallery at Northcourt; and on one occasion he talked to Margaret there a good deal. The more he saw of her the more admiration he felt for her; he thought her so worthy of all praise. He was greatly interested in an account which Mrs. Shirley gave him of the Stourton family. It certainly appeared, too, that he found talking to Margaret very agreeable, and indeed he had discovered it himself; but what of that? he found many people agreeable.

One afternoon he was sitting on the grass at a short distance from the Rectory house, under a wide-spreading tree which stood on the little lawn; his right arm was in a sling, and he was reading, holding a book in his left hand. Hearing steps, however, he looked up; and saw Margaret, Fanny, and Oliver, walking towards the house door. He watched them, and thought, as he had before, how particularly nice-looking Margaret was; so much ease and grace in her movements, and her countenance expressive of such good sense and sweetness of temper. "She certainly was pretty-very pretty, in that little brown bonnet she wore to-day." He could not quite hear what was being said, but Margaret appeared to be making some enquiries of the servant, after which she and the children went into the house. In about five minutes, however, she came out again, and taking the path to the right, went across the grass to some flower beds where the gardener was at work. After saying a few words to him, she sat down on a seat near by, and watched his proceedings. He soon went in search of some other tools, and she, seeing a flower drooping for want of a little stick to support its frail stalk, went to see if she could prop it up with one that she saw lying near. She was stooping over the plant, when, hearing a step approach, she began to say she thought a stronger stick than the one she had found would be needed. The voice that replied was certainly not that of the old gardener, and looking up quickly she saw Mr. Stratton, whom she believed to have been out driving with Mr. and Mrs. Shirley. Hastily rising, she said something to that effect.