THE TRUE KNIGHT.

Kingthorpe, beautiful even in the winter, with its noble panorama of
hills and woods, was now looking its loveliest in the leafy month of
June. Ida had been living with Miss Wendover nearly eight months, and had
become to her as a daughter, waiting upon her with faithful and loving
service, always a bright and cheerful companion, joining with heart and
hand in all good works. Her active life, her freedom from daily cares,
had brightened her proud young beauty. She was lovelier than she had ever
been as the belle of Mauleverer Manor, for that defiant look which had
been the outcome of oppression had now given place to softness and
smiles. The light of happiness beamed in her dark eyes. Between December
and June this tranquil existence had scarcely been rippled by anything
that could be called an event, save the one grand event of Bessie
Wendover's life--her engagement to John Jardine, who had proposed quite
unexpectedly, as Bessie declared, one evening in May, when the two had
gone into a certain copse at the back of The Knoll gardens, famous as the
immemorial resort of nightingales. Here, instead of listening to the
nightingales, or silently awaiting a gush of melody from those pensive
birds, Mr. Jardine had poured out his own melodious strain, which took
the form of an ardent declaration. Bessie, who had been doing 'he loves
me, loves me not,' with every flower in the garden--forgetting that from
a botanical point of view the result was considerably influenced by the
nature of the flower--pretended to be intensely surprised; made believe
there was nothing further from her thoughts; and then, when her
emboldened lover folded her to his breast, owned shyly, and with tears,
that she had loved him desperately ever since Christmas, and that she
would have been heartbroken had he married anyone else.