LITMIR.BIZ

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all the rest of the world, child, – I want something I cannot get.

      What have you there?"

      "Ferns," said Julia. "Do you know what ferns are?"

      "I suppose I do – when I see them."

      "No, but when you don't see them; that's the thing."

      "Do you, pray."

      "Yes! A fern is a plant which has its seeds come on the back of the leaf, and no flower; and it comes up curled like a caterpillar. Aren't those pretty?"

      "Where did you learn all that?"

      "I know more than that. This leaf is called a frond."

      "Who told you?"

      "Mr. Rhys."

      "Did you learn it from Mr. Rhys?"

      "Yes, to be sure I did, and a great deal more. He is going to teach me all about ferns."

      "Where do you see Mr. Rhys?"

      "Why! wherever I have a mind. Alfred goes walking with him, and the other boys, and I go too; and he tells us things. I always go along with Mr. Rhys, and he takes care of me."

      "Does mamma know?"

      "Yes, but papa lets Mr. Rhys do just what he pleases. Papa says Mr.

      Rhys is a wonderful man."

      "What is he wonderful for?" said Eleanor languidly.

      "Well, I think, because he is making Alfred a good boy."

      "I wonder how he has done it," said Eleanor.

      "So do I. He knows how. What do you think – he punished Alfred one day right before papa."

      "Where?" said Eleanor, in astonishment.

      "Down at the school. Papa was there. Papa told about it. Alfred thought he wouldn't dare, when papa was there; and Alfred took the opportunity to be impudent; and Mr. Rhys just took him up by his waistband and laid him down on the floor at his feet; and Alfred has behaved himself ever since."

      "Was not papa angry?"

      "He said he was at first, and I think it is likely; but after that, he said Mr. Rhys was a great man, and he would not interfere with him."

      "And how does Alfred like Mr. Rhys?"

      "He likes him – " said Julia, turning over her ferns. "I like him. Mr. Rhys said he was sorry you were sick. Now, that is a frond. That is what it is called. Do you see, those are the seeds."

      Eleanor sighed. She would have liked to take lessons of Mr. Rhys on another subject. She half envied Julia's liberty. There seemed a great wall built up between her and the knowledge she wanted. Must it be so always?

      "Julia, when are you going to take a walk with Mr. Rhys again?"

      "To-morrow," was the quick answer.

      "I will give you something to ask him about."

      "I don't want it. I always have enough to ask him. We are going after ferns; we always have enough to talk about."

      "But there is a question I would like you to ask."

      "What is it? Why don't you ask him yourself?"

      Eleanor was silent, watching Julia's uncompromising business-like air as she turned over her bunch of ferns. The little one was full of her own affairs; her long locks of hair waving with every turn of her busy head. Suddenly she looked up.

      "What is your question, Eleanor?"

      "You must not ask it as if from me."

      "How then?"

      "Just ask it – as if you wanted to know yourself; without saying anything."

      "As if I wanted to know what?"

      Eleanor hesitated, and Mrs. Powle came into the room.

      "What, Eleanor – what?" Julia repeated.

      "Nothing. Study your ferns."

      "I have studied them. This is the rachis – and down here below this, is the rhizoma; and the little seed places that come on the back of the frond, are thecae. I forget what Mr. Rhys called the seeds now. I'll ask him."

      "What nonsense is that you are talking, Julia?"

      "Sense, mamma. Or rather, it is knowledge."

      "Mamma, how do you like Mr. Rhys? Julia says he is often here."

      "He is a pleasant man," said Mrs. Powle. "I have nothing against him – except that your father and the children are crazy about him. I see nothing in him to be crazy about."

      "Alfred is a good deal less crazy than he used to be," remarked Julia; "and I think papa hasn't lost anything."

      "You are a saucy girl," said her mother. "Mr. Carlisle is very anxious to know when you will be down stairs again, Eleanor."

      Julia ran off with her ferns; Eleanor went into a muse; and the conversation ceased.

      It happened a few days after this, that the event about which Mr. Carlisle was anxious came to pass. Eleanor was able to leave her room. However, feeling yet very wanting in strength, and not quite ready to face a company of gay talkers, she shunned the drawing-room where such a company was gathered, and betook herself to a small summer-parlour in another part of the house. This room she had somewhat appropriated to her own use. It had once been a school-room. Since the misbehaviour of one governess, years ago, Mr. Powle had vowed that he would never have another in the house, come what would. Julia might run wild at home; he should be satisfied if she learned to read, to ride, and to walk; and when she was old enough, he would send her to boarding-school. What the squire considered old enough, did not appear. Julia was a fine child of eleven, and still practising her accomplishments of riding and walking to her heart's content at home; with little progress made in the other branches to which reading is the door. The old schoolroom had long forgotten even its name, and had been fitted up simply and pleasantly for summer occupation. It opened on one side by a glass door upon a gay flower-garden; Eleanor's special pet and concern; where she did a great deal of work herself. It was after an elaborate geometrical pattern; and beds of all sorts of angles were filled and bright with different coloured verbenas, phloxes, geraniums, heliotrope, and other flowers fit for such work; making a brilliant mosaic of scarlet, purple and gold, in Eastern gorgeousness, as the whole was seen from the glass door. Eleanor sat down there to look at it and realise the fact that she was getting well again; with the dreamy realization that goes along with present weakness and remembered past pain.

      On another side the room opened to a small lawn; it was quite shut off by its situation and by the plantations of shrubbery, from the other part of the house; and very rarely visited by the chance comers who were frequent there. So Eleanor was a good deal surprised this evening to see a tall strange figure appear at the further side of her flower garden; then not at all surprised to see that it was Mr. Rhys accompanied by her sister, Julia. Julia flitted about through the garden, in very irregular fashion, followed by her friend; till their wanderings brought them near the open door within which Eleanor sat. To the door Julia immediately darted, drawing her companion with her; and as soon as she came up exclaimed, as if she had been armed with a search warrant and had brought her man, —

      "Here's Mr. Rhys, Eleanor. Now you can ask him yourself whatever you like."

      Eleanor felt startled. But it was with such a pleasant face that Mr. Rhys came up, such a cordial grasp of the hand greeted her, that the feeling vanished immediately. Perhaps that hand-clasp was all the warmer for Eleanor's changed appearance. She was very unlike the girl of superb health who had wandered over the old priory grounds a few weeks before. Eleanor's colour was gone; the blue veins shewed distinctly on the temples; the full lips, instead of their brilliant gay smile, had a languid and much soberer line. She made quite a different impression now, of a fair delicate young creature, who had lost and felt she had lost the proud strength in which she had been so luxuriant a little while before. Mr. Rhys looked at her attentively.

      "You have been very ill, Miss Powle."

      "I suppose I have – some of the time."

      "I

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