they retired to rest.

And the lady blessed Evelyn, and felt that, if bereaved, she was not
alone.



CHAPTER III.

BUT come, thou Goddess, fair and free,
In heaven yclept Euphrosyne!

. . . . . .

To hear the lark begin his flight,
And, singing, startle the dull night.--_L'Allegro_.

But come, thou Goddess, sage and holy,
Come, divinest Melancholy!

. . . . . .

There held in holy passion still,
Forget thyself to marble.--_Il Penseroso_.

THE early morn of early spring--what associations of freshness and hope
in that single sentence! And there a little after sunrise--there was
Evelyn, fresh and hopeful as the morning itself, bounding with the light
step of a light heart over the lawn. Alone, alone! no governess, with a
pinched nose and a sharp voice, to curb her graceful movements, and tell