She drew such a picture of the peculiarities of the stern Aunt Jane, and showed what straits they would be reduced to under her _regime_, that Pringle quickly abandoned the project in holy horror, and wondered how he could have ever thought of such a thing. Then when he commented on Lizzie's looks, and asked her affectionately what was the matter, she laughed it off at first, told him she was never better in her life, asked him what could induce him to question her so, and concluded by making a pretty scene, and sobbing on his neck. She was miserable! She did not know what was the matter with her! She must be ill! She would be all right probably to-morrow; she had a headache now, and was tired; she would go to bed!--which she accordingly did. This was after the first acquaintance with Master Tom. But when that young gentleman began to take such a deep interest in fly-fishing, and, in pursuing his favourite spoilt, had to pay so many and frequent visits to the parsonage in order to fish in the pool that ran at the bottom of the lawn, Lizzie got brighter and better. Instead of her movements being all languor and lack of elasticity, they were now all life and vivacity. She took a deeper interest in everything around her; every little humdrum detail in her daily routine seemed to be invested with a new charm: there was not a brighter little lassie around the country side. She was merry then, and when Tom's avowal came, and she heard from his own lips those burning words of love, of which she had been intuitively cognisant, and which she had, unknown to herself, already returned, her cup of happiness brimmed over. The change was complete. Then came the after relapse, when Tom came down so miserably to tell of his mother's refusal, and had afterwards parted from her in anger. In anger with her! She thought her little heart would break. The falling out of lovers, however, is the renewal of love; and so Lizzie found it. The happiness which she then enjoyed was greater than that which preceded it. Who is it that defines that word happiness to be "gleams of a brighter world, too soon eclipsed and forfeited?" Lizzie's bliss, however, was saddened by the thought that Tom was soon to leave her. It intensified her love, and surrounded it with that holier charm which sorrow always lends. Then came the parting. And Andromeda was left alone to lament, whilst her lover was ploughing the stormy main. Tom was "off to the wars"-- rather a queer place for a knight of chivalry in the nineteenth century to seek for adventure, Abyssinia!--and Lizzie had, like most women in such cases, to nurse her grief, which was her joy as well, by herself. 'Tis the way of the world, as Kingsley sings-- "For men must work! and women must weep! And the sooner 'tis over, the sooner to sleep!"