The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. ’ ‘Gad, but she’s a beauty,’ gasped Hilary, and slammed his sword back in its scabbard. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. You have been going out every morning, and coming home late—tired out—too tired to come down to dinner. You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse.
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