when my darling came to my house, and I remember this one--ah, me!--so
well. It was fine, clear and frosty; the sky was blue; the sun shone
with that clear gold gleam it has in winter; the hoar frost sparkled on
the leafless trees and hedges; the ground was hard and seemed to ring
beneath one's feet.

"A bright, clear day," said Coralie, as we sat at breakfast together.

"Yes," I replied. "Coralie, will you see that a good luncheon is served
today? Sir John and Lady Thesiger are coming--Miss Thesiger, too--and
they will remain for lunch."

Her face cleared and brightened.

"Coming today, are they? I am very glad."

I looked upon this as an amiable wish to atone for the unpleasantness of
last night, and answered her in the same good spirit.

I am half ashamed to confess that when Agatha was coming I seldom did
anything but stand, watch in hand, somewhere near the entrance gates.
That I did today, and was soon rewarded by seeing the Harden carriage.

Ah, me! will the memory of that day ever die with me? My darling came
and seemed to me more beautiful than ever. Her sweet, frank eyes looked
into mine; her pure, beautiful face had a delicate flush of delight, and
I--God help me!--forgot everything while by her side.

We were all in the library. How I thanked God afterward that Clare had
not felt well enough to have the engravings sent to her room, as I