tumultuous swiftness, but blandly, like the gliding of a full river
through a plain. My visits to her resembled the sojourn of Christian
and Hopeful beside a certain pleasant stream, with "green trees on
each bank, and meadows beautified with lilies all the year round." The
charm of variety there was not, nor the excitement of incident; but I
liked peace so well, and sought stimulus so little, that when the
latter came I almost felt it a disturbance, and wished rather it had
still held aloof.

One day a letter was received of which the contents evidently caused
Mrs. Bretton surprise and some concern. I thought at first it was from
home, and trembled, expecting I know not what disastrous
communication: to me, however, no reference was made, and the cloud
seemed to pass.

The next day, on my return from a long walk, I found, as I entered my
bedroom, an unexpected change. In, addition to my own French bed in
its shady recess, appeared in a corner a small crib, draped with
white; and in addition to my mahogany chest of drawers, I saw a tiny
rosewood chest. I stood still, gazed, and considered.

"Of what are these things the signs and tokens?" I asked. The answer
was obvious. "A second guest is coming: Mrs. Bretton expects other
visitors."

On descending to dinner, explanations ensued. A little girl, I was
told, would shortly be my companion: the daughter of a friend and
distant relation of the late Dr. Bretton's. This little girl, it was
added, had recently lost her mother; though, indeed, Mrs. Bretton ere
long subjoined, the loss was not so great as might at first appear.