brought to him, with a decanter of elder flower wine, a beverage in those days the most esteemed of all home-made wines.

The large elder-bushes by the Mill furnished the flowers, and one of Katharine's earliest remembrances was being allowed to shake the snowy fragrant blossoms into the large pan, where they were covered and soaked with pure spring water for eight-and-forty hours.

Katharine delivered the letter to Cuthbert, and soon after he took his leave.

Katharine went into the porch, watching him .mount his horse, which was brought round from the stables, and saw her father come out, and heard him say in his pleasantest tones:

"I wish you good-day, sir."

"Ah! how fortunate-how happy Cicely must be!" Katharine sighed, as she proceeded, to the "best room," and began preparations for the expected guest.

CHAPTER IV.

THE CLOUDS GATHER.

"That we should bear the cross is Thy command,
To choose Thy will, from selfish bias free,
And to prefer a cottage to a throne,

And grief to comfort, if it pleases Thee."

COWPER.

KATHARINE'S preparations were all completed by the next morning, and the best room, sacred to Miss Perry, was ready for the guest.

The bed-posts were rubbed till they shone like chestnut shells in the sun, the brown mahogany rivalling their deep colour. The boards were white, and the strip of green carpet lay across them. The curtains of the four-post bed were of the same colour, and made of stout watered camlet. How few people nowadays could rest well on the large puffed-up feather bed beneath the heavy green canopy! The wooden mantelshelf was painted a creamy-white, and the walls were of the same colour. A large hanging cupboard was let into a recess, and of this Miss Perry kept the key. For there hung in wonderful order all her summer, winter, spring, and

autumn gowns while on the shelf at the side was an array of bonnets and caps of many fashions, for it was a ruling principle of Miss Perry's life "that things improve by keeping."

"It's surprising," she would say, "how a gown comes out prettier than the day it was hung away. See how this flowered chintz looks, Katharine."

Miss Perry had just, with a mighty effort, brought down the chintz from its wooden peg, where it hung high above the reach of ordinary mortals.

"Just see now; let it be a lesson to you, Katharine, to take care of your gowns. Why, I declare I'd rather wear this than any you could buy me at the smartest shop in Bedford !"

"I was thinking, aunt, that perhaps Cicely Whinfield would like to hang up a gown if"

"In the wardrobe? Not if I know it! There's pegs behind the door, I hope; and a young woman coming for a visit of two days will not bring a heap of finery with her. There are drawers, and lavender in 'em; and I should say there is not a better chamber than this in the Pleasaunce, if there's one half as good," Miss Perry said, as she lifted the skirt of her blue stuff-gown and dropped the key of the wardrobe into her large pocket.

Katharine ventured no further remonstrance, and leaned on the deep window-ledge, lost in a daydream. Sweet was the perfume of the climbingrose which wreathed the frames of the lattice, and sweet, too, was the fragrance of the flower of the

elder bushes, which were giants of their race, and covered with blossom. Sweet, too, was the scent of the snowy syringa flowers, and the balls of the Guelder roses, which were set off by the background of dark leaves.

The mill murmured, the poplars whispered; ever and anon the whistle of a boy at work in the yard broke the stillness; and high and low rose the voice of Priscilla, the maid of the mill, as she chanted the tune to which Cowper's lovely hymn was then sung:

"O, for a closer walk with God,

A calm and heavenly frame;
A light to shine upon the road
Which leads me to the Lamb."

Peace was all around-that sweet contentment which seems to belong to the fulness of the summertide, when Nature stands clad in her fairest robes, and the promise of the springtime is fulfilled.

Katharine Perry unconsciously made a pretty picture. Her golden hair, surmounted by its white cap, set in the flower-wreathed lattice; one rosy cheek resting on her hand, and the rounded arm hanging listlessly outside the sill, the fingers playing dreamily with the clusters of small white roses, which seemed to be looking up at her from their sturdy branches.

A man, with his hand on the latch of the gate, was watching her, and he lingered as if afraid to stir and so break the charm. This man was small of

stature, and his figure was slender; he stooped a little as he walked, and that stately head, with its wealth of chestnut curls, seemed almost too large for the form of which it was the crown. There, as he stood under the shadow of one of the old elder trees, his luminous eyes shining under the square brow, from which the masses of hair were swept back, Katharine caught sight of him, and said:

"Well, Mr. Chamberlain, what brings you hither? I thought you at-I don't know where-certainly not at Olney."

Paul Chamberlain opened the gate and came across the square of garden till he was under the window from which Katharine addressed him.

"I have been on a preaching journey, but have returned to Mr. Sutcliffe for fresh instructions.' "More preaching, I suppose," Katharine said. "I hope there is practice also," was the answer. "But, Mistress Katharine, I come--"

A sharp voice was now heard from the parlour below.

"It does not seem to me to be good manners, sir, to talk to young women at a window. Come in, Mr. Chamberlain, and have your say."

Paul Chamberlain blushed like a girl at this sharp rebuke, and Katharine heard his footsteps in the passage below, and knew he had gone in to speak to her aunt.

Paul Chamberlain was a relation of William Carey, whose name is so intimately bound up with