WYLDER'S HAJVD.
Wylder was missed, though, sooth to say, not very much
regretted. For the first time we were really a small par-
ty. Miss Lake was not there. The gallant Captain, her
brother, was also absent. The Vicar, and his good little
wife, were at Naunton that evening to hear a missionary
recount his adventures and experiences in Japan, and none
of the neighbors had been called in to fill the empty chairs.
Dcrcas Brandon did not contribute much to the talk;
neither, in truth, did I. Old Lady Chelford occasionally
dozed and nodded sternly after tea, waking up and eyeing
people grimly, as though enquiring whether anyone pre-
sumed to suspect her ladyship of having had a nap.
Chelford, I recollect, took a book, and read to us now and
then, a snatch of poetry — I forget what. My book —
except when I was thinking of the tarn and that old man I
so hated — was Miss Brandon's exquisite and mysterious
face.
That young lady was leaning back in her great oak chair,
in which she looked like the heroine of some sad and gor-
geous romance of the old civil wars of England, and direct-
ing a gaze of contemplative and haughty curiosity upon
the old lady, who was unconscious of the daring profa-
nation.
All on a sudden Dorcas Brandon said —
"And pray what do you think of marriage, Lady Chel-
ford?"
"What do I think of marriage?" repeated the dowager,
throwing back her head and eyeing the beautiful heiress
through her gold spectacles, with a stony surprise, for she
was not accustomed to be catechised by young people.
"Marriage? — why'tis a divine institution. What can
the chili mean?"
"Do you think, Lady Chelford, it may be safely con-
tracted, solely to join two estates?" pursued the young
lady.