take you home in the carriage; we can put him up behind. I want an excuse to get away; poor little Mouse is so tired." And offering his arm to Mrs. Spencer, he was about to lead her across the room to where Ken was sitting languidly by the side of Mrs. Carleton, when Arabella Montague gave an affected little scream, causing all eyes to turn in the direction of hers; and there, at the door, stood the cause of her alarm,-a small, white apparition, which was not long stationary, but darted into the middle of the room, with tiny bare feet lightly touching the floor, followed by a female servant, who vainly endeavoured to arrest its progress, exclaiming, "Master Owen, you must come back." "I won't," was the defiant reply, in lisping, infantine tones, as it eagerly scanned the faces of the company, dexterously eluding all attempts to make it prisoner. "I want to see Uncle Ion; I know he's here." Ion succeeded in lifting the little rebel from the ground, while he, struggling to get free, exclaimed, 66 Are you Uncle Ion? are you sure ?" Do Yes, as far as I can be." 'Well, I think you are, because you've got such nice light hair, and I heard Aunt Georgie say what the colour was. Don't let nurse have me just yet. you think papa saw me? And which is Ken ?" His two younger uncles were introduced to his notice in succession, while he clung very closely to Ion, when Mr. Carleton approached to restore him to the charge of his nurse. 66 "Let me keep him one moment, Sydney," said Ion, now he is here; the room is too warm for him to feel cold. What is your name, little one ?" "Owen Rhys Carleton, and Wales for ever! My name's Welsh, and Aunt Georgie taught me that, because you liked it." Georgie remembered your Welsh predilections," said Mr. Carleton; "however, the boy is a born Welshman. And what brought you down here, sir ?" "I would come. I heard mamma say, when she came in to see me, after I was in bed, she said, 'Won't Ion be pleased to see him! I wish he had come earlier to-night,' and she thought I was asleep, you know, but I wasn't. I crept out and listened on the stairs, and I heard music. But I'll go to bed now, and not come down any more, if you'll come and see me to-morrow." "Yes, I will come." "Now you'll be sure to come; I think I shall like you. You are not a girl, and those two are not. I hate girls, except my Aunt Georgie, because she does know such good games, and girls haven't any games at all. Don't let papa scold me." "We'll forgive you this once, Owen. Now, say good-night to your uncle," replied Mr. Carleton, taking the boy from Ion, "and come to nurse at once. are. "Yes, papa, one moment, to see who the people Oh, I know them all.' Master Owen was quickly restored to the protection of nurse; while Ion took advantage of the momentary confusion to make his escape with Mrs. Spencer and his brothers, after a few apologetic words to his sister, who shook her head reprovingly, and smiled. "To rest beneath the clover sod, That takes the sunshine and the rains "Than if with thee the roaring wells "DEAR Ken, is it not beautiful ?" The brothers stood together on the hill, looking at the grey tower of S. Edmund's, with the dark ivy clinging to the time-worn stones, and twining round the deep-mullioned windows. The boy did not speak, he only gazed silently at the prospect before him, in his usual attitude, with both hands clasped firmly on Ion's arm. They stood there for some minutes, neither speaking, while Ken looked up with loving earnestness into those steadfast eyes which were to him the mirror of his brother's passing mood; but their fixed glance now was unfathomable, their contemplation so thoroughly inward that the expression was but one of complete abstraction. Ken was motionless, scarcely daring to breathe, lest Ion's reverie should be disturbed, for he was too young in experience, and too dreamy in character to realize the possibility that there could be anything painful in meditation, unless he unmistakably traced the fact in that expressive countenance, which however as often concealed as betrayed the real heart feelings. And yet how few minds can find calm unchafing thoughts to fill those moments when they are thrown back upon themselves! So few indeed, that to sit and think is generally to regret the past, or to raise nervous agitating hopes for the future, fraught with restless impatience or sickening anxiety. Down the hill side the brothers came, and across the fields, until Ion arrested his steps before a low gate in a briar hedge, within whose limits, a stone cross, round which bright flowers of every hue clustered in rich profusion, marked the garden of the priest, while the style of the building adjoining, proved that they stood before the parsonage. "Our gate is never locked; Mr. Bernard agrees with the saying that a clergyman's house, like his heart, should be always open." Ion looked up, and removed his hat, as a glance at the speaker's dress informed him of his holy office. He was a fair, broad-shouldered man, of about five-and-thirty, with joyous looking blue eye, bright as the summer heaven. "I have the pleasure of welcoming Mr. Lester to our home, I think, but I must introduce myself, however awkward it may be; I am Henry Westbourne." "And Mr. Bernard's nephew; a sufficient introduction," returned Ion, holding out his hand; we know each other slightly, I think, through our mutual friends. This is my brother Ken." "Your brother? I thought he was older." "Con is older; you will see him some day, though he is seldom my companion; but this little one they say is my shadow." "Nearest and dearest," said the priest, with a slight smile, as he glanced at the boy who was lingering behind amongst the flowers. "I am rather afraid so; there must be some difference, I suppose." 66 Well, it is very natural, the usual excuse for a great many bad things; but he seems rather delicate, and one is always more drawn towards the weakest. At least, I know it is the case with our Willie." "Oh, poor little fellow, how is he ?" "Just the same; it is a hopeless case; even his mother has never been very sanguine. But you will come in, and see him, of course; I must do the honours of the house, for my aunt is out, and my uncle still absent, he has been taking the duty for a clergyman who has lately lost his mother, but we look for him every day.' Following Mr. Westbourne, Ion and Ken passed on between heaps of flowers, waving forth their breath of fragrance to the evening air, through the open door, across the unbarred threshold, which so many passed, unquestioned, unannounced, to seek advice and consolation from their pastor; they entered a room, where the uncarpeted floor and simple furniture, proved that they who dwelt there, practised the self-denial they taught. The young invalid, Wilibert Spencer, lay extended on a couch, a light covering thrown over the wasted limbs, which had been useless from his birth. He was a pale boy of seven, with an intelligent countenance, and an expression which seemed to mark him as one, who, from the baptismal font, had been nurtured beneath the shade of love and devotion in a holy home. It was a heavy trial for the patience and meekness of so young a child, to lie there day |