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now is not that Popish?" cried Clara.

      "Perhaps your cousin can explain herself," said Miss Morley.

      "Yes, do," said Caroline, "you must tell us what you mean."

      "I don't know," was Marian's first answer; but while uttering the reply, the real reason arranged itself in words; and finding she must speak clearly, she said, "Self-denial is always best, and in a doubtful case, the most disagreeable is always the safest."

      Miss Morley said that Marian was right in many instances, but that this was not a universal rule, and so the conversation ended.

      CHAPTER VI

      "O Brignal banks are fresh and fair,

      And Greta woods are green;

      I'd rather rove with Edmund there,

      Than reign our English queen."

ROKEBY.

      Winter came, and with it the time fixed for that farewell visit from Edmund Arundel, to which Marian and Gerald had long looked forward. Marian was becoming very anxious for it on Gerald's account, for she was beginning to feel that he was not quite the same child as when he first arrived at Oakworthy. He was less under control, less readily obedient to Miss Morley, less inclined to quote Edmund upon all occasions, more sensible of his own consequence, and more apt to visit that forbidden ground, the stables.

      She longed for Edmund's coming, trusting to him to set everything right, and to explain to her the marvels of this strange new world.

      Several gentlemen were staying in the house, and there was to be a dinner party on the day when he was expected, so that she thought the best chance of seeing him would be to stay in the garden with Gerald, while the others took their walk, so that she might be at hand on his arrival. Clara, though by no means wanted, chose to stay also, and the two girls walked up and down the terrace together.

      "It is so very odd," said Clara "that you should care about such a great old cousin."

      "He is only twenty-four," answered Marian.

      "But he must have been grown up ever since you remember."

      "Yes, but he is so kind. He used to carry us about and play with us when we were quite little children, and since I have been older he has made me almost a companion. He taught me to ride, and trained my bay pony, my beautiful Mayflower, and read with me, and helped me in my music and drawing."

      "That is more than Elliot would do for us, if he could," said Clara. "It is very dull to have no one to care about our lessons, but to be shut up in the schoolroom for ever with poor unfortunate."

      Marian did not choose to say how fully she assented to this complaint, but happiness had opened her heart, and she went on,—"I have had so many delightful walks with him through the beautiful wood full of rocks, and out upon the moor. O, Clara, you cannot think what it is to sit upon one of those rocks, all covered with moss and lichen, and the ferns growing in every cleft and cranny, and the beautiful little ivy-leafed campanula wreathing itself about the moss, and such a soft, free, delicious air blowing all around. And Edmund and I used to take out a book, and read and sketch so delightfully there!"

      "Do you know, Marian," said Clara mysteriously, "I have heard some one say—I will not tell you who—that it is a wonder that Mr. Arundel is so fond of you, of Gerald, at least, for if it was not for him, he would have had Fern Torr, and have been Sir Edmund."

      "But why should he not be fond of Gerald?"

      "Really, Marian, you are a very funny person in some things," exclaimed Clara. "To think of your not being able to guess that!"

      Here Mrs. Lyddell interrupted them by calling from the window to ask why they were staying in the garden?

      "We were waiting to see Mr. Arundel, mamma," answered Clara.

      "I think," said Mrs. Lyddell, "that as I am going out, it is not quite the thing for you young ladies to wait to receive a gentleman in my absence. You had better overtake the others. Marian will see Mr. Arundel in the evening."

      "How cross!" exclaimed Clara, as soon as they were out of hearing. "Now we have to go along that horrid, stupid path that poor unfortunate is so fond of! If mamma had to go there herself, she would know what a nuisance it is!"

      Marian was silent, because she was too much annoyed to speak properly of Mrs. Lyddell, whose interference seemed to her a needless piece of unkindness. At home she would have thought it strange not to hasten to greet cousin Edmund, and she feared he would think she neglected him, yet she could not, in Clara's presence, leave a message for him with her brother. Gerald begged her to remain, but she replied, with, a short, blunt "I can't," and set off with Clara, feeling provoked with everybody. In process of time she recovered candour enough to acknowledge to herself that Mrs. Lyddell was right as far as Clara was concerned, but the struggle kept her silent, her cousin thought her sulky, and the walk was not agreeable.

      Gerald did not as usual attend her toilette, but as she passed along the passage on her way to the schoolroom, she heard sounds in the hall so like home that her heart bounded, Gerald's voice and Edmund's in reply! She could not help opening the door which separated the grand staircase from the schoolroom passage, the voice sounded plainer, she looked over the balusters, and saw—yes, actually saw Edmund, the top of his black head was just below her. Should she call? Should she run half-way down stairs, and just exchange one greeting unrestrainedly? But no; her heart beat so fast as to take away her breath, and that gave her time for recollection: Mrs. Lyddell might not think it proper, it would be meeting him in an underhand way, and that would never do!

      Marian turned back, shut the door of communication, and in the next moment was in the schoolroom. When Gerald came up to tea, he was in the wildest spirit; making fun, romping with Lionel and John, and putting everything in such an uproar that it was quite a relief when the time came for going down to the drawing-room.

      Now, Marian's great fear was that the gentlemen would be cruel enough to stay in the dining-room till after half-past nine, when she would be obliged to go to bed. She could hardly speak to anybody, she shrank away, as near the door as she dared, and half sprang up every time it opened, then sat down ashamed of herself, and disappointed to see only the servants with coffee and tea.

      At last, the fatal time had all but come, when the black figures of the gentlemen entered one after the other, Marian scarcely venturing to look at them, and overpowered with a double access of fright and shyness, which chained her to her seat, and her eyes to the ground. But now—Edmund's hand was grasping hers, Edmund was by her side, his voice was saying, "Well, Marian, how are you?"

      She looked up at him for one moment, then on the ground again, without speaking.

      "Oakworthy has put no colour in your cheeks," said he. "Are you quite well?"

      "Quite, thank you," said she, almost as shortly and coldly as if she had been answering Mrs. Lyddell.

      "When did you hear from home?"

      "Yesterday," said she, speaking more readily. "Agnes always writes once a week. When do you go there?"

      "Next week, when I leave this place."

      "You come from the Marchmonts, don't you?"

      "Yes, Selina sends you her love, and all manner of kind messages. She hopes to see you in London after Easter."

      "O dear! There is Mrs. Lyddell looking at me, and I see Caroline is gone! Good night, Edmund."

      "So soon? I hoped to have seen more of you to-day; I came early on purpose."

      "I thought so, but they would not let me stay at home."

      "I understand. Don't squeeze up your lips and look woeful. I knew how it was. Good night."

      Marian walked slowly up stairs, sighing as she went, and looked into Gerald's room. He was awake, and called out, "Well, Marian, are you not glad he has come?"

      "O yes, very," returned Marian, in a tone of little gladness; "I hope you will be very happy with him."

      "Why not you?"

      "It will be all disappointment,"

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