A DARK NIGHT'S WORK.

BY THE AUTHORESS OF "MART BARTON."
CHAPTER VI.

AT Easter — just when the heavens and earth
were looking their dreariest, for Easter fell
very early this year — Mr. Corbet came down.
Mr. Wilkins was too busy to see much of him;
they were together even less than usual, although
not less friendly when they did meet. But to
Ellinor the visit was one of unmixed happiness.
Hitherto she had always had a little fear mingled
up with her love of Mr. Corbet; but his manners
were softened, his opinions less decided and
abrupt, and his whole treatment of her showed
such tenderness that the young girl basked and
revelled in it. One or two of their conversations
had reference to their future married life in London;
and she then perceived, although it did not
jar against her, that her lover had not forgotten
his ambition in his love. He tried to inoculate
her with something of his own craving for success
in life; but it was all in vain: she nestled to him
and told him she did not care to be the Lord
Chancellor's wife — wigs and woolsacks were not
in her line; only if he wished it, she would
wish it.

The last two days of his stay the weather
changed. Sudden heat burst forth, as it does
occasionally for a few hours even in our chilly
English spring. The grey-brown bushes and
trees started almost with visible progress
into the tender green shade which is the forerunner
of the bursting leaves. The sky was of
full cloudless blue. Mr. Wilkins was to come
home pretty early from the office to ride out with
his daughter and her lover; but, after waiting
some time for him, it grew too late, and they were
obliged to give up the project. Nothing would
serve Ellinor, then, but that she must carry out a
table and have tea in the garden, on the sunny
side of the tree, among the roots of which she
used to play when a child. Miss Monro objected
a little to this caprice of Ellinor' s, saying that
it was too early for out-of-door meals; but
Mr. Corbet overruled all objections, and helped
Ellinor in her gay preparations. She always
kept to the early hours of her childhood, although
she, as then, regularly sat with her father at his
late dinner, and this meal, al fresco, was to be a
reality to her and Miss Monro. There was a place
arranged for her father, and she seized upon him
as he was coming from the stable-yard, by the
shrubbery path, to his study, and with merry playfulness
made him a prisoner, accusing him of disappointing
them of their ride, and drawing him, more than half
unwilling, to his chair by the table. But he was silent,
and almost sad; his presence damped them all,
they could hardly tell why, for he did not object to
anything, though he seemed to enjoy nothing, and
only to force a smile at Ellinor's occasional sallies.
These became more and more rare, as she perceived
her father's depression. She watched him anxiously.
He perceived it, and said— shivering in that strange
unaccountable manner which is popularly explained
by the expression that some one is passing over the
earth that will one day form your grave —

"Ellinor! this is not a day for out-of-door
tea. I never felt so chilly a spot in my life. I
cannot keep from shaking where I sit. I must
leave this place, my dear, in spite of all your
good tea."

"Oh, papa! I am so sorry. But look how full
that hot sun's rays come on tins turf. I thought
I had chosen such a capital spot!"

But he got up and persisted in leaving the
table, although he was evidently sorry to spoil
the little party. He walked up and down the
gravel-walk, close by them, talking to them as
he kept passing by, and trying to cheer them up.

"Are you warmer now, papa?" asked Ellinor.

"Oh yes! All right. It is only that place that
seems so chilly and damp. I am as warm as a
toast now."

The next morning Mr. Corbet left them. The
unseasonably fine weather passed away too, and all
things went back to their rather grey and dreary
aspect; but Ellinor was too happy to feel this
much, knowing what absent love existed for her
alone, and from this knowledge unconsciously
trusting in the sun behind the clouds.

I have said that few or none in the immediate
neighbourhood of Hamley, besides their own
household and Mr. Ness, knew of Ellinor's
engagement. At one of the rare dinner-parties
to which she accompanied her father— it was at
the old lady's house who chaperoned her to the
assemblies— she was taken into dinner by a young
clergyman staying in the neighbourhood. He