A LITTLE COMFORT. 183 it not, she is dear, very dear to me; I could not do without her. Margaret, love, will you go now to her room, and see why she has not come down? I would go myself if I feit calmer. Do not tell her what has passed between us; but if she is fretting, soothe her and comfort her, as you know how; at any rate give her a little of the quiet, calm sunshine you always bear about you." "I will go to her,” said Margaret, laying down her needlework. "I shall tell her you are wishing for her, and wondering where she has hidden herself." “Yes, tell her I am so dull without her.” Margaret tapped at Mabel's door, and, hearing a faint “Come in,” she gently entered the chamber, and found its young occupant lying on her bed, with a white face and dark circles round her heavy eyes, betokening a severe headache. “You are very poorly, dear Mabel,” said Margaret, bending over her; "what can I do for you ?" "Nothing, thank you," said Mabel, languidly; "my headaches never yield to any remedy save time and sleep: you are very kind." She looked gratefully at Margaret, but she could not help feeling a little disappointed that it was not Hester who had come to her. Margaret continued. "Hester sent me to see what had become of you; your absence made her quite uneasy, and she is dull without you." Mabel made no answer; but a ray of joy lit up her pale, exhausted countenance; and she half raised herself, though pain compelled her instantly to return to her pillow. "Lie still," said Margaret; "I will go and make you a cup of strong tea. I know not if it be a very wise remedy, but I find it a very effectual one." Very quickly Margaret returned. Hester, she said, was just coming to her, when Captain Dawson had been announced; but she sent her love, and hoped she would go to sleep, and awake free from pain. "Not," added Margaret, "that tea is exactly a sedative; stimulants rarely lull one to sleep; but now drink your tea, I am sure it will relieve you." After a pause, Margaret resumed. "You are in need of fresh air, I think. How I wish we could leave this noisy, smoky town, and go into Yorkshire; it would be so lovely now; the young lambs would be in the fresh green meadows; early violets and primroses would be peeping out under the hedges and in the shady wood-paths; and the birds-the free wild birds -how they would warble and sing! One breath of pure, country air would do you, and Hester also, more good than all the green tea in London, and all the sal-volatile and red lavender that ever came out of chemists' shops." "Could you not persuade Hester ?" asked Mabel, eagerly. "Oh! the quiet of the country would be so delicious, and she looks so poorly herself. Every now and then she seems quite unfit for the crowd of engagements that tease and weary her to death." "I am afraid no persuasions would be effectual," replied Margaret. "The season is just commencing, and it will be her first in London. You know she has never spent a spring in England since her mar riage; and even if she were to consent to quit town before the drawing-room, or say immediately after it, I am sure Sir Herbert would not hear of such a thing. You and I are lucky, Mabel, to be able to do as we like, and keep away from the bustle and trouble of the great world of fashionable life." "I should be happier in the country," said Mabel, pensively. My dear child," answered Margaret, cheerfully, "you would be nothing of the sort. Happiness has its source in one's inner self. If you carried your sorrowful, repining heart into the loveliest spot under the sun, its beauties and its pleasures would contribute nothing to the real peace of your life. Novelties and external circumstances please for a little while, and perhaps make many a sufferer forget, for a brief space, his pain and sorrow; but Mabel, dear, if God give not happiness, it is vain to seek it. It is vain to toil, and fret, and struggle with one's self and with events. There is no rest unless 'He giveth his beloved sleep.' "I like to hear you talk," said Mabel; "go on, tell me about the things that make you happy! Why is it that your face always reminds me of sunshine in an old church? Margaret, you are always at peace; you always look as if you could sing Praise God from whom all blessings flow.' Tell me your secret!" "The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him, and he will show them his covenant," returned Margaret, and then without alluding to Mabel's own sorrows, she spoke of the peace and joy which God gives through Jesus Christ, his Son, to all who love 186 A LITTLE LONGER. his name, and strive to keep his commandments; of the rest that remains for the children of the kingdom when their warfare on earth is accomplished; of the crown purchased by their Saviour's love; of the song of thanksgiving which they sing for evermore in the land that is very far off! Mabel listened and sighed, at last she fell asleep and slumbered like a tired child. Cease thy grieving, little Mabel; the rest, and the crown, and the song of the redeemed, and the bright, bright land, are not so very far from thee. FLORAL BEAUTIES. 187 CHAPTER XVI. "We breathed no vow, No mingling visions might our fate allow, MRS. HEMANS. It was a beautiful afternoon in the month of August. Kingsdown Lodge was rejoicing in the cloudless splendour of the sultry summer day; for late as it was in the season, no breath, or tinge of autumn had chilled or changed a single leaf. The well-kept gardens were in most perfect order, the lawns and green slopes were like emerald velvet, for the mowing machine and the garden syringe had been in constant request. Large clumps of verbenas, heliotropes, fuschias, scarlet geraniums, adorned the brilliant borders; tall dahlias in every exquisite variety bloomed, as Mr. Hamilton's gardener declared they had never bloomed before. There were stands of greenhouse plants, rustic baskets of nemophila, whole beds of splendid carnations, and mignonette, with its lovely fragrance everywhere. There were petunias of every shade, from the deepest purple to white; there were gardenias, penstemons, |