other side of the brook,--Cromwell Lodge,--and seeing your house as I
passed, I divined that your room was in this part of it. How soft
here is the view of the water! Ah! yonder is Izaak Walton's
summer-house."

"Don't talk about Izaak Walton, or I shall quarrel with you, as I did
with Lion when he wanted me to like that cruel book."

"Who is Lion?"

"Lion,--of course, my guardian. I called him Lion when I was a little
child. It was on seeing in one of his books a print of a lion playing
with a little child."

"Ah! I know the design well," said Kenelm, with a slight sigh. "It
is from an antique Greek gem. It is not the lion that plays with the
child, it is the child that masters the lion, and the Greeks called
the child 'Love.'"

This idea seemed beyond Lily's perfect comprehension. She paused
before she answered, with the naivete of a child six years old,--

"I see now why I mastered Blanche, who will not make friends with any
one else: I love Blanche. Ah, that reminds me,--come and look at the
picture."

She went to the wall over the writing-table, drew a silk curtain aside
from a small painting in a dainty velvet framework, and pointing to
it, cried with triumph, "Look there! is it not beautiful?"