"You wise, dear little nurse! don't put on so much of the awful; don't talk of care, you make me shiver at the bare idea. "Where the bee sucks, there lurk I: In the cowslip's bell I lie, There I couch when owls do cry, On the bat's back do I fly, After summer merrily, Merrily, merrily!" And thus merrily sung the little airy Ariel, dancing around the room, scarce touching the floor as she sung. "Bless her light, little, happy heart! What a sin that love must come, and with love, the self-loving, proud husband, that will bend that bright will to his own; and then old age, and care, sure enough, and wrinkles--and then that light, fairy-bounding step will be slow and leaden, and that--alas! alas! that such perfect beauty--!" "What is that you are muttering about, nursey dear? You must not let me see one sad look to-day, for am I not this day sixteen--bright, merry sixteen!" "Yes, my dear lady, sixteen to-day--sixteen to-day;" and the little dame, recovered from her momentary sadness, gave her lady a mysterious, quizzical look, as she once more repeated, "sixteen to-day!" "Well, dear nurse, what would you have me do, or what shall I leave off from doing, now that I have grown so exceedingly old?" asked Isoleth, smiling that precious smile of hers--ten thousand dimples danced around it--ten thousand loves nestled in each dimple. "Sixteen to-day!" replied the queer little old body, with what she meant for a very significant look. "Your guardian, the noble Baron of Arnhiem, comes this day--" "As he does every year to see me, dear nurse, staying several weeks, sometimes months, with me." "He comes not alone this year, my sweet lady," added the little woman, looking still more significantly. "I suppose we shall have my dear prim old maiden aunt of Hansfeldt, with her snuff and lap-dogs, or is it my dear, sweet, beautiful cousins Blumine and Alida? Tell me, nursey, if they are coming. You shake your head. I guess, then, my proud uncle and aunt of Allwrath, and my aristocratic cousins, their haughty sons and daughters?" "None of them, sweet lady--that is, just yet." "My beautiful, loving-cousin, Alice of Bernstorf, who has been living these six years alone and lonely in her castle with only her younger son and daughters. Is she or any of hers coming here again? And when will my cousins of Bernstorf return from those hideous wars? I have not seen them for so many years I should not know them." "Now, dear lady, you are approaching nearer the fire, as the children say in the play." "You dear, queer little old nurse, don't look so mystical and mystified, my circle of acquaintance, by reason of my father's will, is not so very extensive but that the roll might soon be gone through with. Come, unfold thy important, mysterious budget--who is it?"