"If we were to add up all the ill-assorted marriages in the world, the sum would last us a long time," observed Miss Hope philosophically. "Right, my dear madam," was the brisk answer; "but 'if folk, won't suit themselves properly it is not other people's fault,' as the old clerk said when--when the wrong couple got married." "They say marriages are made in heaven," began Miss Charity, a little sentimentally; but Dr. Stewart interrupted her. "They say so; but don't you think there is a good deal of human bungling and obstinacy at the bottom? One can't fancy the angels, for example, taking a very great interest in a _marriage de convenance_, or a ceremony where title-deeds and money-bags play too prominent a part! I have seen something of human nature, Miss Charity, and have often found occasion for astonishment at the sad mess men, and women too, make over their lives." "I don't think women are often to blame," observed Faith in a low voice. "Humph! so that is your experience," with an odd, inexplicable look as he rose from the grass. "Well, ladies, this is vastly entertaining, and one could learn a good deal, no doubt; but there is work waiting for me in the shape of Jemmy Bates' broken leg, which, by-the-bye, Miss Faith, is progressing most favorably," and, with a benevolent nod that included them all, Dr. Stewart walked off, still munching his cherries. CHAPTER XII. LITTLE NAN. "Those whom God loves die young; They see no evil days; No falsehood taints their tongue, No wickedness their ways. "Baptized--and so made sure To win their safe abode, What can we pray for more? They die, and are with God." _Robert S. Hawker._ A few days after Dr. Stewart's garden visit Emmie came running up the gravel walk at Brier wood Cottage with a frightened face. Queenie, who was sitting in the porch as usual, put down her work rather hurriedly. "Oh, Queen, I do think something is the matter. Mr. Chester is coming up this way, and he has got Nan in his arms, and she looks so odd; I am sure she is ill or something." "Is he bringing her here, or to Church-Stile House?" asked her sister anxiously; but as she spoke Mr. Chester's tall figure came into sight. In another moment there was a click of the little gate, and he came rapidly up to them carrying his child. "May I come in, Miss Marriott? the sun is so hot I dare not go up the lane;" and, as Queenie nodded and made room for him to pass into their cool little sitting-room, he continued in an agitated voice, "I do not know what ails Nan, she has been sleepy and quiet for a long time, and just now she turned very sick and poorly." He had placed himself in the low chair by the window as he spoke, and Queenie knelt down by him and examined the child. As she untied the large white sun-bonnet Nan shrank from her rather restlessly. "Nan did want to go home, father; Nan very sick," she answered, hiding her face on his shoulder.