loved so intensely; but if she failed not in her task, he would bring her joy at last. To Emmeline the idea of dancing was quite enough to be the acme of enjoyment. The only drawback was, that in the intervals of rest, there was to be a little music, and though her mother had excused her at Mr. Howard's, she knew that if anybody expressed a wish to hear her at her own house, play she must; and at those times she was half sorry she had chosen to learn the harp instead of the piano, as Caroline played so well on the latter instrument nobody would care to hear her; but the harp was rather a novelty, and no little girl who was coming played it, and so she was sadly afraid there was no escape for her, and that was very disagreeable, but she would not think about it till the time came; the dancing to such music as that which Mr. Hamilton had ordered from Plymouth was joy enough. Ellen though rather afraid of so many strangers, could not resist the general contagion of anticipated enjoyment. She did not indeed wake with the thought of the ball, but with the determination to learn the verse of the Psalm her aunt had pointed out, and go and say it to her in her dressing-room before she went down. And as the first verse was very short she learned two, and repeated them without missing a word, and so as if she quite understood them, that her aunt was very much pleased; and then Ellen could think of and join her brother's and cousins' delight, even though Mrs. Hamilton was obliged to be what she called very cruel, but what Ellen knew was very kind, though it did seem a restraint, and keep her very quiet all day, instead of letting her run about from room to room, as Emmeline and Edward, and even Percy did, for fear of another headache; and so well did quietness succeed, that she looked and was unusually well, and so was almost lively by the evening. Just before dinner, Percy, who had gone to ride, because he said he was sure he should get into some scrape if he did not give a natural vent to his spirits, galloped back in company with a gentleman, whose presence seemed to occasion him still greater excitement. "Where is my mother? and is my father at home?" he asked impatiently, flinging his horse's rein to Robert, desiring him to take every care of the gentleman's horse, as he should not let him leave Oakwood that night; and rushing across the hall threw open the door of their common sitting-room, and exclaimed-- "Mother, give me a vote of thanks and praise for my invincible eloquence!--Here is this anchorite, this monk of the moor, who, when I first encountered him, seemed so doughty a denier of my wishes, actually conquered--led a slave to your feet; reward me by throwing all the fascinations you possibly can in his way, that he may only dream of his cold ride and desolate cottage on Dartmoor to-night."