that have never gathered one, so many little lips that have never been stained by one. . . . Wait till my ship comes into port. There shall be a feast-day! A minute later her eye rested on the thatched cottage that was to be her home. No cloud-shadow was upon it; there was no sudden chill in the air. A flight of white pigeons were just settling upon the roof. CHAPTER VII. A SCENE OF PROBATION. "I foresee, and I could foretell Thy future portion, sure and well But those passionate eyes speak true, speak true, R. BROWNING, The Flight of the Duchess. "A COTTAGE in a corn-field and a picturesque stile where the gate should be!" exclaimed Genevieve in pleased surprise. "I shouldn't ha' thought 'at you'd ha' known 'at stubble meant corn," said Miss Craven, with the touch of disdain which she seemed to have adopted for special use when she spoke to Genevieve. "As for the stile, it's the awk'ardest stile i' the district. I've asked Mr. Damer to put a gate up till I'm tired o' askin' him." Certainly the stile was an awkward one, and the path through the field was narrow; midway it turned at a sharp angle in the direction of the cottage. Just at the turn, a great covey of partridges started outwards with a sudden burst, and went whirring and fluttering up the stubble to the wide furzy pasture that skirted the moor. "Will one be liable to that kind of thing? asked Genevieve, with a little pretence of being startled. 66 Eminently liable," said Mr. Bartholomew. " If you think it will be a drawback to residence at Netherbank you must speak before it is too late." "I will resign myself to the partridges," replied Genevieve, coming to a standstill in front of the cottage. Certainly it was as rude and quaint a little place as you could see. The heavy ling thatch hung low over window and wall; the broad chimney of undressed stone was built outside, and stood like a tall buttress picturesquely designed for the thatch to lean against and the winding ivy to cling to; the purple-brown boughs of the fading ash-tree dropped upon the roof; creepers hung fading and yellowing about the deep recesses of the windows. The garden, a tiny unfenced patch of ground between the cottage and the stubble-field, displayed a fine crop of the crimson spires of the dock sorrel; sweetherbs crept about in tangled masses; a solitary pale pink hollyhock grew at the foot of the rough stone steps that led up to the cottage door. "What do you think so far?" asked Mr. Bartholomew a little anxiously; all the morning he had been more or less anxious. 66 "So far I think it is charming," Genevieve answered with enthusiasm. Perhaps it is even too charming, since it is not in the nature of things to be consistent." 66 'Well, that's just what I'm frightened of," said Miss Craven, unlocking the door. It opened straight into the kitchen. There was the usual broad grateless hearthstone, elevated some inches above the flagged floor, the usual wide chimney, the usual “reckoncrook" of the district. A dresser with a halffilled plate-rack stood opposite to the window; a white scoured table, with a few rush bottomed chairs, completed the furniture of this characteristic apartment. A door on the left opened into the one sitting-room, which Miss Craven had done her best to make as attractive as might be. And the mid-day sun, slanting through the diamond panes, certainly fell upon some touching evidences of Dorothy's desire and power to make the best of things. Her finest geraniums-one and all-stood in the two deep window-sills. Among them were fuchsias still in bloom, a thriving lemonplant, a little dark-leaved rose-tree. The mantle-shelf held some of the same exquisite old china that Genevieve had admired at the Haggs; round the room were ranged some four or five old oak chairs; and, wonderful to say, the deep recesses were filled with empty book-shelves. "Mr. Quale put 'em up at his own expense," said Dorothy. "Simon Frost put 'em up for him, an' he made him this thing; a cabinet, he called it, to put his lumps o' stone an' bits o' broken pot into. Folks about here reckoned he was gettin' childish; but when you came to talk to him you soon found out |