Still, whatever Hilary's future might be, it would likely be a very different one from that quiet, colorless life of hers. And as she looked at her younger sister, with the twilight glow on her face--they were taking an evening stroll up and down the terrace--Johanna hoped and prayed it might be so. Her own lot seemed easy enough for herself; but for Hilary--she would like to see Hilary something better than a poor schoolmistress at Stowbury. No more was said at that time, but Johanna had the deep, still, Mary-like nature, which "kept" things, and "pondered them in her heart." So that when the subject came up again she was able to meet it with that sweet calmness which was her especial characteristic--the unruffled peace of a soul which no worldly storms could disturb overmuch, for it had long since cast anchor in the world unseen. The chance which revived the question of the Great Metropolitan Hegira, as Hilary called it, was a letter from Mr. Ascott, as follows: "MISS LEAF. MADAM,--I shall be obliged by your informing me if it is your wish, as it seems to be your nephew's, that instead of returning to Stowbury, he should settle in London as a surgeon and general practitioner? His education complete, I consider that I have done my duty by him; but I may assist him occasionally still, unless he turns out--as his father did before him--a young man who prefers being helped to helping himself, in which case I shall have nothing more to do with him. I remain, Madam, your obedient servant, PETER ASCOTT." The sisters read this letter, passing it round the table, none of them apparently liking to be the first to comment upon it. At length Hilary said: "I think that reference to poor Henry is perfectly brutal." "And yet he was very kind to Henry. And if it had not been for his common sense in sending poor little Ascott and the nurse down to Stowbury the baby might have died. But you don't remember any thing of that time, my dear," said Johanna, sighing. "He has been kind enough, though he has done it in such a patronizing way," observed Selina. "I suppose that's the real reason of his doing it. He thinks it fine to patronize us, and show kindness to our family; he, the stout, bullet-headed grocer's boy, who used to sit and stare at us all church time." "At you--you mean. Wasn't he called your beau?" said Hilary mischievously, upon which Selina drew herself up in great indignation. And then they fell to talking of that anxious question--Ascott's future. A little they reproached themselves that they had left the lad so long in London--so long out of the influence that might have counteracted the evil, sharply hinted in his godfather's letter. But once away--to lure him back to their poor home was impossible. "Suppose we were to go to him," suggested Hilary.