which she referred everything, and that was Louis. They saw the very landscape, not as it was, but as it appeared to this wonderful brother. They became acquainted with the village and its inhabitants through the medium of Louis’s favourites and Louis’s aversions. They were young enough and simple enough themselves to be perfectly ready to invest any unknown ideal person with all the gifts of fancy; and Louis immediately leaped forth from the unknown world, a presence and an authority to them both. “The Rector lives in the Old Wood House,” said Rachel, for the first time pausing, and looking somewhat confused in her rapid summary. “I am sure I do not know what to think--but Louis does not like him. I suppose you will not like him; and yet,”--here a little faint colour came upon the young speaker’s pale face--“sometimes I have fancied he would have been a friend if we had let him; and he is quite sure to like you.” Saying this, she turned a somewhat wistful look upon Agnes--blushing more perceptibly, but with no sunshine or brightness in her blush. “Yes,” said Rachel slowly, “he will like you--he will do for you; and you,” she added, turning with sudden eagerness to Marian, “you are for Louis--remember! You are not to think of any one else till you see Louis. You never saw any one like him; he is like a prince to look at, and I know he is a great genius. Your sister shall have the Rector, and Louis shall be for you.” All this Rachel said hurriedly, but with the most perfect gravity, even with a tinge of sadness--grieved, as they could perceive, that her brother did not like the Rector, but making no resistance against a doom so unquestionable as the dislike of Louis: but her timid heart was somehow touched upon the subject; she became thoughtful, and lingered over it with a kind of melancholy pleasure. “Perhaps Louis might come to like him if he was connected with _you_,” said Rachel meditatively; and the faint colour wavered and flickered on her face, and at last passed away with a low but very audible sigh. “But they are all Riverses,” she continued, in her usual rapid way. “The Rector of Winterbourne is always a Rivers--it is the family living; and if Lord Winterbourne’s son should die, I suppose Mr Lionel would be the heir. His sister lives with him, quite an old lady: and then there is another Miss Rivers, who lives far off, at Abingford all the way. Did you ever hear of Miss Anastasia? But she does not call herself Miss--only the Honourable Anastasia Rivers. Old Miss Bridget was once her governess. Lord Winterbourne will never permit her to see us; but I almost think Louis would like to be friends with her, only he will not take the trouble. They are not at all friends with her at Winterbourne.” “Is she a relation?” said Agnes. The girls by this time were so much interested in the family story that they did not notice this admirable reason for the inclination of Louis towards this old lady unknown.