“Except a happy middle-age, my dear Leonard,” replied Mrs. Woodburn, “with such good, happy children, and dear friends about us. I don’t envy youth, but I love to see them enjoying their golden days.” “You are right, mother,” said Mr. Woodburn; “I sometimes almost tremble when I think on the long run of blessings that we have had.” “Nay, my dear Leonard,” said Mrs. Woodburn, “don’t imagine trouble because you are happy; that’s a shadow out of Mrs. Heritage’s sermon.” “Perhaps it is,” said Mr. Woodburn; “let us take a turn down the garden and orchard, and disperse it by seeing how things are coming on.” So the two loving ones wandered slowly from flower-beds to kitchen-beds of vegetables; and saw what peas, what beans wanted gathering; how the raspberries were getting too ripe; how the wall-fruit was prospering; and then surveyed the apple, pear, and plum trees in the ample old orchard, and decided that the crop would be abundant and fine. They sate long on a seat under tall hazels overlooking the country, and conversed of many things, past and present, and of events connected with their neighbours, and the farms that lay around; and as they slowly wandered back towards the house, the shadow was gone, and a calm and sober joy, like that of the day itself, lay on their minds. At noon the young people returned, full of enjoyment of their ride, and George escorted the two visitors to Fair Manor gate. All were eloquent in Miss Drury’s praise: her fine figure and easy grace on Maydew’s back; her light and kindly spirit; her admiration of their country, and familiarity with everything she saw. Ann loved her more and more for her love of her church, and of religion, without its formality. Letty was delighted with a boating excursion that Miss Heritage had proposed to-morrow, and tea on the great island, with only just themselves, Miss Heritage and Miss Drury. “And,” said Ann—“Mr. Harry Thorsby; you did not mean to omit him, Letty?” Letty was already half way upstairs, to be ready for dinner.