FEEDING THE PEACOCKS

It was indeed a charming sight, the twelve stately birds perched on the
broad stone balustrade, or prancing slowly along the terrace, with the
sun gleaming on their green and golden necks and the glories of their
gorgeous plumes, widespread, or sweeping like rich trains behind them.
In pretty contrast to the splendid creatures was their young mistress,
in her simple morning dress and fur-trimmed hood and mantle, as she
stood feeding the tame pets from her hand, calling their fanciful names,
laughing at their pranks, and heartily enjoying the winter sunshine, the
fresh wind, and the girlish pastime. As Treherne slowly approached, he
watched her with lover's eyes, and found her very sweet and blithe, and
dearer in his sight than ever. She had shunned him carefully all the day
before, had parted at night with a hasty handshake, and had not come as
usual to bid him good-morning in the library. He had taken no notice of
the change as yet, but now, remembering his promise to his aunt, he
resolved to let the girl know that he fully understood the relation
which henceforth was to exist between them.

"Good-morning, cousin. Shall I drive you away, if I take a turn or two
here?" he said, in a cheerful tone, but with a half-reproachful glance.

She looked at him an instant, then went to him with extended hand and
cheeks rosier than before, while her frank eyes filled, and her voice
had a traitorous tremor in it, as she said, impetuously: "I _will_ be
myself for a moment, in spite of everything. Maurice, don't think me
unkind, don't reproach me, or ask my leave to come where I am. There is
a reason for the change you see in me; it's not caprice, it is