This was the only cloud in our Heaven.This,
and Anna.

My sister had been so variable and uncertain
in her humour since that evening I have spoken
of, when I spoke to her in her bed, as to try
aunt sorely. Aunt's own temper was the sweetest
and most placid in the world, but her nerves were
unstrung, and she was liable to swoon on unusual
excitement. Anna was not always angry,
not always sullen, not always tearful, not always
unaccountably gay and boisterous, but all these
moods chased each other across her mind with
startling rapidity. She was especially inconsistent
towards Horace. At one time, she would
be so sweet and sisterly to him as to make
our hearts glad within us. Next moment,
the merest trifle, the turning of a straw,
something so slight as to be imperceptible to us,
would ruffle her, and she would chafe and frown
and treat him with an arrogant scorn that
wounded me beyond measure. Once, I was
angered out of patience, and spoke to her
sharply, in Horace's presence.To my surprise,
she was soft and humble in a moment, coming
and kneeling by me with her face hidden in my
lap.

"Margaret, I love you!" she said, in so low
a voice that I, with my head bent down to hers,
could hardly hear it.

"My dear love, I know you do. But, Anna,
because you love me, you should be good to
Horace." The dark clustering curls on my knee
shook themselves petulantly from side to side.
"Yes, Anna. I am sure he is very good to you.
And you know he is to be your brother. Come!
Give him your hand and be friends." With her
face still hidden, she suffered me to take her
cold little fingers, and put them into Horace's
outstretched palm; and so there was peace again
for a time. But all this, as I have said, was
trying to my aunt. Uncle Gough saw less of it
than she did; but even he saw enough to
distress him.

"I tell ye what, my bairn," he said to Anna,
"a little change will do you good. I am thinking
you're not quite well, Nanny. I shall
pack you off to Meadow Leas for a week or
two, and beg Farmer Gibson to feed you
entirely on strong ale and rabbit pasty. You're
growing as slender as a hazel-wand, my bonny
bairnie."

"I'm not a bit ill," returned Anna, decisively,
"But I think I should like to go to Meadow
Leas."

The idea was acceptable to us all. It had
already occurred to me, that Anna's excessive
irritability might be owing to incipient illness;
and, indeed, she was looking worn and thin. So
it was decided that she should go to Meadow
Leas for a week or two.

I have not yet said anything as to the manner
in which old Mr. Lee received the announcement
of my engagement to his son. In truth,
it is not a topic on which I am able to say
much, for Horace would never exactly tell me
what his father's words had been; but I gathered
that he had expressed some disappointment in
the matter. It must have been on the score of
my personal demerits, for I knew that an alliance
with the family of James Gough of the
Gable House was, in a social sense, the best he
could have expected for his son. However, the
old gentleman was all cordiality to my uncle, and
all condescension to me. He treated me with
elaborate, I may almost say oppressive, politeness
—when he thought of it. Sometimes, however,
he did not think of it. And I am afraid I
liked those times best. He readily undertook
to make the necessary arrangements for Anna's
stay with the good people at Meadow Leas.
But, before she went away, we had two pleasant
surprises. One, was a letter from our dear friend
in Canada; the other, which concerned Horace,
I shall come to presently.

Dear little Madame de Beauguet wrote most
cheerfully, and there was no mistaking the fact
that she was a perfectly happy woman. They
had not long arrived out when her letter had
been written, but she had a great deal to say
about her new home already, and about her
"good-man."

"Do you remember your giving him that
title?" she wrote. Her letter was addressed
to my aunt. "I do. And nothing ever was
more appropriate. Put the strongest possible
accent on the first syllable, or on the second
syllable, or on both syllables, and you will be
perfectly right all ways. He is the best creature
in the world. Am I not a fortunate woman?''

Then our old governess sent kind love to
Philosophy and Will-o'-the-wisp; and made many
inquiries about Horace:—"that most charming
and civil of young civil engineers," as she
called him. "Tell him that I have his parting
flowers safely pressed in a book, and prize them
above everything; and that my good-man says
he hopes no young lady will be jealous when
she hears it."

This set us wondering whether M'sieu' had
discovered Horace's secret—our secret—and
then they all laughed, and we wandered off into
happy foolish talk about ourselves. Madame de
Beauguet's pleasant letter having been read and
re-read and discussed in full family council with
great relish, then Horace brought forth his news.
And this was the second surprise.

"I have had a letter from Mr.Topps, of
Birmingham, sir," he said, addressing my uncle.

"From Mr. Topps, eh? I didn't know you
kept up any correspondence with Mr.Topps."

"No, not exactly correspondence; but this
is a business letter."

There was a look of triumph in Horace's eyes
as he handed it to my uncle: though he assumed
a sober unconcerned manner, as who should say
that to a man of his age and position, a business
letter from Mr.Topps was an every-day kind
of matter.

"Am I to read it?"

"If you please, sir."

"What is it, Horace?" I asked, eagerly.  But
he hushed me with a motion of his hand, and
we all waited silently until my uncle had finished
reading the letter.