“‘I’m not cross, uncle; but you know it is so provoking to be disappointed.’ “‘Well, well, pet, cheer up! When the college breaks up for the season, we’ll have plenty of fishing and hunting, and picnics without end. I didn’t know that Clare was out until you inquired—gone visiting some poor folks, I suppose, as usual. At church! Well, well, what a girl she is. She’ll soon be back again.’ “‘No, I’m sure she won’t, uncle, if she’s gone to church, for she’s the greatest girl for praying I ever saw.’ “‘I know it’s all very admirable in one’s character,’ said young Lady Emma, moving about the apartment, and arranging her disordered hair in the mirror; ‘but I could not kneel so long as Clare does—no, not for all the world. Come, uncle, you mustn’t laugh and go away in that manner; I want you to escort me to the parade this evening. I’m sure you’ll not refuse—besides, we shall be sure to meet Clare. I’ll go into the cathedral and fetch her, if we don’t meet her on the way. I know where to find her; in a snug little pew, shut out from all observation.’ “As blue-eyed, oval-faced Emma, with her radiant looks and careless manner, took the old colonel’s arm, and proceeded, with laugh and joke, through the forest-path towards the small town lying in the valley, they soon came to the cathedral, and the colonel stopped. “The great door being slightly ajar, Emma stepped lightly in, and its quiet calm and beauty arrested her hurried, impetuous gait. “Evening service was over. “The sinking sun shed its rays through stained-glass windows, and streams of blue, white, orange, purple, and pink fell in varied beauty upon its doric columns and tiled floors. “The slightest sound was audible, and as the boughs of chestnut trees swayed against the windows, and the birds warbled their even-song, each rustle and note echoed through the edifice. “Emma slowly closed the creaking door, and, stealthily stealing forwards, discovered Clare, whose pale face and dark eyes were raised in deep meditation. “A touch and gesture were all that passed, and Clare rose slowly and left the place with noiseless step. “‘Not go to the grand military parade, child?’ asked the colonel, when Miss Clare had joined them. ‘You used to be amazingly fond of such things a few months ago. Come, Clare, Lady Emma has been waiting for you ever so long.’ “Lady Emma looked inquiringly into Clare’s face, as they walked side by side, and seemed grave and vexed. “‘Well, then, cousin, as you are indisposed, the colonel, I know, will excuse you. I shall call about seven, and spend the evening with you.’ “Lady Emma and the colonel walked on in silence, until the latter remarked, “‘She’s the only one left to me now. Sons and daughters have gone from home—some are in the clay, others are married. My whole life and soul are centred in her, Lady Emma, and it grieves me to see her looking so thoughtful of late. I wish she was as gay a romp as you.’