"'Be she with that goodness blest, Which may merit name of best. If she be not such to me-- What care I how good she be.'" Thus the brother playfully sung and quoted, though whether the philosophical doctrine the old poet implied in his song had the effect of easing his listener's mind upon the point in question, her faint and absent smile was not exactly calculated to declare; though perhaps could he have read aright the secret history of that anxious countenance, he might have seen how far less any such considerations were agitating his sister's mind than the remembrance of Eugene's strange and angry excitement in the Edinburgh gardens, on the subject of this same Edward Temple; and the question now chiefly agitating her breast to be, whether she could without treason to her lover, place herself in the position and circumstances now under discussion--yet what was she to do? She knew that Arthur could not enter into her feelings on this point; besides, was there not some unconfessed leaning in her secret heart in favour of the arrangement. For that interview of the morning, and the circumstances from which it took its rise; had it not aroused ideas of perplexity, interest, and anxiety in her mind? was there not still much left unaccounted for and unexplained? She mentioned the ring to her brother. He was surprised, and thought it a strange coincidence, though certainly it did often happen that families of different names, bore the same crests, sometimes the same arms. Mary's recognition of the impression showed at least there to be, some connection between Eugene Trevor and Mr. Temple. Arthur could easily gain explanation from Mr. Wynne on the subject. He also was often puzzled to know to what family of Temple his friend belonged. But, before time or explanation was given for any such inquiry, the little party yielding themselves passively as it were to the irresistible force of circumstances which had so singularly united them, were pursuing their way over the enchanted ground Arthur had previously marked out for their excursion, most of which the two more experienced travellers had already explored, but gladly retrode for the benefit of their young companions. "By sweet Val d'Arno's tinted hills, In Vallambrosa's convent gloom, Mid Terni's vale of singing rills, By deathless lairs in solemn Rome. Ruin, and fane, and waterfall." They wandered delightedly, and never did Mr. Wynne and Arthur cease to congratulate themselves and one another; the latter, on the valuable acquisition he and his sister had gained in such able cicerones as himself and his companion; whilst Mary and Mr. Temple, by their silence only, gave testimony to the same effect. Yes, it were well for the good Mr. Wynne and the young and hopeful-hearted Arthur "Cheerful old age, and youth serene," to yield themselves to the charm of sunny skies and classic ground, and to feel almost as if earth wanted no more to make it Heaven.