more confident and understood him better.

How well I remember that last evening! I was happier than I had been
for weeks about little Alured: the convulsions had quite gone off,
the teeth that had caused them were through, and he had been laughing
and playing on my lap quite brightly--cooing to his mother's
miniature in my locket. He was such an intelligent little fellow for
eighteen months! I came down so glad, and it was so pleasant to see
Emily, in her white dress, leaning over my father while he had gone
so happily into his old delight of showing his prints and engravings;
and Torwood, standing by the fire, watching them with the look of a
conqueror, and Jaquetta--like the absurd child she loved to be--
teasing them with ridiculous questions about their housekeeping.

They were to have Spinney Lawn bought for them, just a mile away, and
the business was in hand. Jaquey was enquiring whether there was a
parlour for The Cid, Torwood's hunter, whom she declared was as dear
to him as Emily herself. Indeed, Emily did go out every morning
after breakfast to feed him with bread. I can see her now on
Torwood's arm, with big Rollo and little Malta rolling over one
another after them.

Then came an afternoon when we had all walked to Spinney Lawn, laid
out the gardens together, and wandered about the empty rooms,
planning for them. The birds were singing in the March sunshine, and
the tomtits were calling "peter" in the trees, and Jaquetta went
racing about after the dogs, like a thing of seven years old, instead
of seventeen. And Torwood was cutting out a root of primroses,
leaves and all, for Emily, when we saw a fly go along the lane, and
wondered, with a sort of idle wonder. We supposed it must be