brushed the dew from the grass as he came
across the field to the Parsonage—for one
week of soft summer weather the leaves of
the old elm outside the garden-gate whispered
over his nightly farewell, and then he went,
with smiles on his lips, though with tears in
his eyes, to be away until another spring and
summer were past, and until the leaves of
that other summer were yellow with decay.

Catherine composed herself to wait, and
devoted herself with increased earnestness to
her various occupations. But though she
conscientiously employed her time and
indulged in no vain repinings, she could not
restrain a feeling of joy when a day was past,
at the thought that the term of their separation
was by so much shortened. Her prayers
seemed always to bring her near to him, and
she had his letters, long, frequent, and
inexpressibly delightful for the evidence they bore
of a heart turning ever truly to her. Once in
the winter there was an interval of sad
anxiety—a long three weeks, and no letter;
then, at last, a short note, written from a sick
bed, but in good spirits, and in the near hope
of approaching restoration to health.

Sir Edward and Lady Irwin remained in
town until the end of the summer, and
when they did return their attention was
occupied by a succession of visitors. Edward
was gone to Rugby, so Catherine was left
with little interruption to the enjoyment of
her own thoughts, and to her ordinary
occupations.

"You don't mean to say, Helen, that that
quiet little thing is Frank's fiancée?" said
Mrs. Wilton Brook, Sir Edward's fashionable
sister, now a well-preserved matron, who,
with two full-blown daughters, was on a visit
to her brother. "What a sacrifice! A man
of his expectations, such a handsome fellow,
too—why he might have married any one."

"He is going to marry according to his
choice," replied Lady Irwin, drily.

"Oh! that's well enough for an old man
with a broken constitution, a country curate,
or something of that sort—but in Frank's position,
with such opportunities, it's inexcusable.
Really, a man owes something to his family.
No one cares less for money than I do, but
rank, fashion, beauty, or something, surely he
should require."

"Your brother and your nephews consider
Catherine Birkby beautiful, I believe?"

"Beautiful! What? A girl who has no
idea of setting herself off—no air—no manner!
Her eyes are certainly not bad, if she had the
least idea how to use them; and, I dare say,
something might be made of her hair, it looks
soft, and it certainly is a pretty colour, just
the brun-doré which was all the rage last
year. Clementina has it almost—her's is a
trifle too light, but, when properly brushed
and oiled, it has very much the shade, I
assure you. Really, Helen, you should give
the poor child a hint or two—it is high time
something should be done to civilise her."

"I confess I cannot avoid feeling some
regret that Frank did not look about him
a little before he tied himself down," said
Lady Irwin. "Catherine Birkby is just the
sort of barley-sugar sweetheart that a boy
fancies himself in love with. I would have
saved him if I could; but he must buy his
experience, like the rest of us."

"His father ought not to have given his
consent. I wonder you did not stop it before it
came to a declaration, Helen."

"How could I apprehend the danger? She
has been backwards and forwards at the
house ever since I married. I never dreamt
of anything more than brotherly regard.
However, it is no affair of mine: when
Edward grows up I shall do my best to
avoid such a catastrophe."

"Edward will make a handsome fellow,
Helen. He will make many a heart ache.
He will beat Frank out-and-out—he has so
much more of the devil in him. I am heartily
glad my girls have a dozen years the start of
him."

"Edward's good looks will not avail him
much. A younger son has little chance of
distinguishing himself in this age of gain and
calculation."

Mrs. Brook replied by extolling Edward's
talents and acquirements. Lady Irwin,
pleased to hear his praises even from one
whose judgment she despised, incited her to
further commendation by affecting to speak
slightingly of him. Mrs. Brook was
essentially a worldly-wise woman, though of a
low order of mind, and debased by perpetual
striving after petty ends. She was not without
a certain acuteness, which enabled her to
discover the assailable points of those characters
the dignity and strength of which she
could not appreciate. She was an adroit and
unscrupulous flatterer; and Lady Irwin,
because she saw through and despised her,
thought she could listen uninjured to her
well-bred toadyism. She never perceived how
lowering to the moral feelings intercourse
with persons of Mrs. Wilton Brook's class
must always be—how it helped to maintain in
her an extraordinary opinion of her own
endowments, and kept her in suicidal ignorance
of her true moral state.

Catherine, meanwhile, grew daily more and
more conscious of the dislike with which Lady
Irwin regarded her, and she consequently
became more silent and depressed in that
lady's presence. It was a great relief when
Edward came home from school, full of his
new experience, overflowing with anecdotes
of masters and companions, lavish of caresses
to his mother, and imperiously affectionate to
Kitty. The jealousy which had at one time
characterised his love to her had now quite
passed away; she was no longer the principal
object of his thoughts, and he began to have a
perception, that charming as she was, she
might be more desirable as a sister than as
a wife. And now Frank was away Kitty