It was a fortunate coincidence for Mr. de Courcy and Fairy that Mrs. Shelley, who always spent the afternoon with them, was so occupied, according to her own account, with some work indoors, which could not possibly be postponed, that she had only time to come to the door once or twice and peep out at them. The first time she came they were sitting side by side on the bench. Mr. de Courcy had his back to Mrs. Shelley, but, from the eager way in which he was bending towards Fairy, who was looking on the ground with a happy smile on her bright little face, Mrs. Shelley thought it would be a pity to interrupt them. The next time she looked out, which was half an hour later, the bench was empty, but, looking across the field, she saw the lovers sauntering along arm-in-arm as happily as if the whole world was made for them, and there were no such thing as angry parents or guardians to break in and destroy their happiness. “Poor young things! I have not the heart to call them back, though I suppose John would say I ought. I’ll let them be; they may as well be happy for one day at any rate; their game is almost played out, I doubt,” said Mrs. Shelley, watching them as they strolled slowly along, regardless of the hot afternoon sun, still high in the heavens. The next time Mrs. Shelley looked it was past six, and time John and Charlie were in to supper, though neither of them had yet appeared; and when she went to the door to see if they were coming, there was no one to be seen but Fairy leaning on the gate and straining her eyes and waving one of her little hands in the direction of Oafham. “Fairy, are John and Charlie coming? It is almost supper-time,” called out Mrs. Shelley, who, truth to tell, was not a little curious as to what had passed between Fairy and Mr. de Courcy, a curiosity which was soon to be gratified, for Fairy came running towards her. “Oh, mother, mother! I am so happy; Rex loves me, and I am going to be his wife some day.” And as she spoke, Fairy threw herself into Mrs. Shelley’s motherly arms. (_To be continued._) [Illustration] DREAMING OF SPRING. BY JESSIE M. E. SAXBY. [Illustration] I have a dream—a child-like dream—of waking woods, Of fragrant paths beset by opening flowers, Of tender leaflets casting off their winter hoods, Of song-birds thanking God for spring-tide hours. Oh, for the wings to reach some quiet forest-nest! The city’s tuneless clamour breaks my vision blest. I have a dream of rill and ray that dance between The ancient hills in verdant glory clad; Of meadows putting on their robes of virgin green, Of winds that heavenward bear earth’s anthem glad. Oh, that a wand divine would lull my senses dim! For human moanings drown sweet Nature’s Easter hymn.