its breathing calm, but wanting in that solacing spirit of peace which is
so apt to be imparted to the day of rest in the country, most particularly
at that season of the year. Several of the neighbours, who did not belong
to Clawbonny, were beginning to appear; and I felt the necessity of
dressing in order to be in readiness for what was to follow.

I had eaten alone in my little study or library from the time my sister
died, and had seen no one since my return to the house, the servants
excepted, besides my guardian, Lucy, and John Wallingford. The last had
taken a light supper with me the previous night; but he was then
breakfasting with the rest of the guests in the family eating-room, Mr.
Hardinge doing the honours of the house.

As for myself, I found my own little table prepared with its coffee and
light meal, as I had ordered before retiring. It had _two_ cups, however,
and a second plate had been laid in addition to my own. I pointed to this
arrangement, and demanded of the old white-headed house-servant, who was
in-waiting, what it meant.

"Miss Lucy, sah--she say she mean to breakfast wid Masser Mile, dis
mornin', sah."

Even the accents of this negro were solemn and sad as he made this
familiar explanation, like those of a man who was conscious of having
reached an hour and an occasion that called for peculiar awe. I bade him
let Miss Lucy know that I was in the study.

"Ah, Masser Mile," added the old man, with tears in his eyes as he left
the room, "Miss Lucy 'e only young missus now, sah!"