But do not jump at conclusions--we are not near the end of our story yet. Mrs Daveney saw traces of tears in Eleanor's eyes. She glanced at Frankfort, and observed that his face was fall of serious thought; but, albeit Marion had always been the favourite, so to speak, the mother had every confidence in Eleanor. How often mothers _love_ one child best, but trust another most! Mr Trail had brought this mother and eldest daughter nearer to each other than they had been for years; and Mrs Daveney anticipated Eleanor's confidence ere the morning passed. The latter did not appear at the breakfast-table, and the kind, anxious father went to satisfy himself that she was not ill. There was a shade of anxiety on his brow, and as he passed his wife, on leaving the table at the call of some farm-servant, he whispered to her that Eleanor wished to see her. The result of their conference was the resolution on Eleanor's part, with the sanction of father and mother, to "tell Major Frankfort the history of the miniature, and more if he desired it." Light broke on Eleanor as her mother reminded her of many trifling incidents, plainly manifesting Frankfort's partiality for her. These, connected with what had lately passed between the young widow and the generous, candid soldier, left no doubt an her mind of the nature of his regard for her. She began to weigh every look; she suddenly remembered he had addressed her as "Eleanor,"--she had been too much startled by the unexpected allusion to her lost darting to think of anything but the revival of the bitter pang. Then Frankfort's violent emotion was so at variance with his usual delicacy. She was half-frightened to believe that he loved her. They had spent three weeks together under the same roof. It might truly be said that the light of a new day had _dawned_ upon her, so insensibly had Frankfort's influence stolen over her, and sweetened an existence, of late so wretched and forlorn. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ To have seen the settlement of Annerley, in the early part of March, 18--, you would have thought, had you known nothing of the terrible elements gathering silently around, that Mercy and Peace had met together, that Righteousness and Truth had kissed each other.