"Would you like to examine the prints on the centre table, Miss Lansdale?" asked Gordon, rising, and offering her his arm. With a heart buoyant as the thistle's down, Alice accepted the proffered arm, and Montague secured the seat she vacated. "There is nothing here that you have not seen a hundred times," said Gordon--"but I panted to get into a warmer latitude. The north pole has few charms for me, notwithstanding its brilliant corruscations. By the way, is this cousin of yours ever warmer than the summit of Mont Blanc?" "Why ask _me_ such a question?" said Alice. "Because I thought you would be likely to know," answered Gordon. "She is much admired and beloved," said Alice, with a sigh. "I wish I had her power over the heart!" "Admired she may be--but beloved is she?" said Gordon. "You surprise me, Mr. Gordon," said Alice. "I thought--I feared--I mean I conjectured"--and she stopt short. "What did you think, fear, or conjecture, Miss Lansdale?" asked Gordon. "O nothing--nothing of any consequence," said she, with real or assumed embarrassment. "Now be frank, sweetest Alice," said Gordon, tenderly pressing her arm, which was still locked in his, to his side--"be frank, and tell me kindly what you thought." "Why I knew that you admired my cousin, and I feared--pshaw--I mean that I thought you loved her," and she sighed again. "O no, I could never love a block of marble, even if moulded into a Venus," said Gordon. "Believe me, sweet Alice, there must be some signs of sensibility--some little warmth of feeling, to awaken the affections of my heart. I could never love the twin-sister to the snow, and such I take Miss Claremont to be." * * * * * {86} "So you are going to take an airing this morning, Commodore!" said Montague, as he saw the old man getting into a wagon in the street. "Yes, Squire; you see I am taken from my work"--holding out a lame foot--"and so I am going on some business into the country." "How long have you been lame? and what is the matter with your foot?" asked Montague. "I sprained it a fortnight ago, sir--and it is almost the same as well now--only Miss Margarette made me promise not to try to use it too soon." "Miss Margarette?--Margarette Claremont?" said Montague. "Does she advise you about your lameness?" "Yes, and more than that, Mr. Montague, for, under Providence, she has cured it. There hasn't been a day since I hurt it, in which she has not come and tended it herself, bathing it with her own little hands, in a medicine she brought a-purpose. I couldn't put her off, Mr. Montague! And when she has so patiently and kindly sat, with the old man's foot in her lap, I'll tell you what I thought; I thought--here is the very spirit of Him who said--'If I, then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye ought also to wash one another's feet'--and the tears ran down my old cheeks whether I would or no."