and thinner of late. I had been kept wearily
and closely employed all day; or rather had
kept myself so, choosing to do more, rather
than less, than formerly; and often sat
up late at night busy with my needlework
and my pleasant thoughts. Harold, worried
at my frail look; he was glad my aunt
lived in the country; I promised to try and
get rosy and strong there. As her house
was small, and I knew she had a nervous
horror of strangers, particularly of gentlemen,
it had been arranged that Harold should not
follow me to llton until the day before the
wedding. The fortnight I was there he was
to spend in London, near which he had taken
a house,

I found myself at my aunt's door at the
close of a fine June afternoon.

Her door! I remember I smiled as I
looked at it, it was such a tiny cottage-door;
how would Harold get in? I laughed to
myself as I stood waiting a moment, before I
knocked. Everything laughed too; the
green leaves in the sunshine overhead, the
bright, trimly-tended flowers in the narrow
borders on each side of the narrow path.
Then, how the butter-cups laughed in the
fields beyond!—such fields! so rich and
dark-grounded and gold-spangled, bounded with
"hedges white with hawthorn. Field after
field swelling and waving almost as far as I
could see; only here and, there a double row
of tall elms or drooping limes, marking where
some lane wound among them, or a little
snowy patch of blossoming orchard varying
their gorgeousness. And over the fields went
the slow-flitting, dark-blue shadows cast by the
hovering clouds. Perhaps, somewhere near,
out of sight, they were making hay already—
some very delicious fragrance was floated to
me by the soft wind. I laughed again, and
then turned to knock at the little door.

It was opened; my aunt peeped out shyly.
She was relieved to find me alone; but looked
as if she half-expected my handsome giant
were lurking near.

"My dear, I am so glad to see you! God
bless you! But I didn't expect you for an
hour yet. Quite welcome, and everything
is ready; though, but are you sure you are
come alone? I heard some one laugh."

"I stood by myself, and laughed to myself,
auntie. Yes, I am quite alone! I did not
come by the coach; my luggage is coming by
that, though."

"Well, you know, my dear, T shall be delighted
to see your—Mr. Warden; but I am
glad he did not come here yet; and what
shall we do with him, love, when he does
come? You say he is so tall, and my house
is such a little one."

"If he cannot walk in to see me, he will
crawl, perhaps."

My eyes were brimming over as I spoke,
and aunt looked into them. She nodded and
smiled to herself, and then sighed.

"And now you must come up-stairs—not
many stairs, you know—and I am sure you
must want your tea."

My aunt bustled about, busy in taking off
my bonnet and shawl. She kissed my forehead
and smoothed my hair,and told me I had
my mother's eyes; and sighed again, and
prayed God keep me and guard me. Then
she went down to make my tea, and I stood
gazing out of the opened casement-window.
I can exactly recall how I felt them!—can
see all I saw from that window—and remember
just where each rose grew of those that
clustered round and tried to peep into the
room. I picked one and put it in my hair,
that I might have its fragrance near. Then
I folded my arms softly on my bosom and
looked steadfastly out, and such a peace came
into my breast, and tears came softly down
on to my hands! But then I only looked
out—I did not look up.

"Annie! Annie!" my aunt called at the
bottom of the stairs, and I went down. A
little table was drawn up to the bowery
window; and the tea smelt fragrant and
delicious, and was most refreshing. Every
thing reminded me of the country,—the
bread, the butter, rich cream, and fresh eggs.
Aunt and I sat and chatted and sipped our
tea; and I felt very good and patient with
her gentle talk; and afterwards we went out
of the little back-door, through the little
back-garden, into the fields behind, where
they really were making hay. " I hope it
won't all be made before Harold comes," I
said. And then my aunt asked me a thousand
questions about this formidable Harold;
and from him we got somehow to the very
important subject of my wardrobe, and discussed
most thoroughly what I had and what
I should want. My aunt had a kind neighbour,
she said, who often offered her the use
of his pretty pony-phaeton. If I could drive
she would borrow it, as the best shops near
were at Hard, seven miles off. I was not at
all afraid of driving over those smooth, quiet
roads; so when we went home, Mary, the
little maid, was despatched, with my aunt's
compliments, to this obliging neighbour, to
beg the loan of his carriage for to-morrow.
I stood on the door-step: I could not go in,
it was such a balmy June evening; and it
was so new and delicious to feel myself my
own mistress—to expect no hasty summonses
to remind me of my bondage. I saw Mary
trip away demurely through an orchard, then
emerge and pursue the narrow track across a
golden meadow, then disappear again behind
some trees and shrubs, from among which I
could see sundry chimneys arise. She came
back presently to say, with a half-smile, that
Mr. Swayne returned his compliments, and
the carriage was quite at her mistress's
service; and so was he, if she would like him
to drive her. So Mary had to trip back
again with a message that Miss Aston had a
niece staying with her who would drive her;
she was obliged to Mr. Swayne.