A FRIENDLY VISIT. be Lord George; and even if it was the artist, why, it was nearly a year since her marriage; she was very young still, but she felt at least ten years older, and that every thing had changed, herself most of all. 37 more than one L'Estrange-it might | enthusiastic girl, and said to himself that he had been in love with an ideal. He forgot, or rather probably he never knew, that Geraldine's parents had both been silent on the subject of his letter and their reply, and that the girl had imagined the past to have been far more of a dream to him than she felt it was to her. "Lord Devereux, Sir Charles Vaux, Colonel de Tabley, Mr. l'Estrange;" and the four arrivals advanced slowly through the long vista of rooms morning-room, Italian room, and library-to greet their young hostess, who was seated in the smallest of the rooms, called the small library, and who was still conversing with her husband as they entered. Many people would have thought what a good picture they made, and what a handsome and happy couple they looked. My readers may perhaps think that Arthur l'Estrange ought not to have accepted Colonel Trevelyan's invitation; that knowing well what his feelings had been, it would have been more prudent to refuse; but he was taken by surprise, and had no excuse ready. They met in Edinburgh, and had travelled south together. Colonel Trevelyan pressed him much; he said he wanted to consult him as to where the picture was to hang. He added that Mrs. Trevelyan was rather out of health, and did not take much interest in any thing except the baby; and so Arthur made up his mind that he should hardly see her. He only intended to stay three days-the orthodox visit-there could not be much harm in that. They had met twice in London, had shaken hands, and perhaps exchanged the usual commonplace remarks; and although his heart had throbbed painfully the first time his hand had closed on those slender fingers, the second time he had resented the coldness of her manner and the seeming ease with which she had fallen into the swing of fashionable Lon-luxuriant hair, done very simply, and don life. The way she had exchanged frivolous remarks with more than one young dandy, who was pleased to hover round the rich and beautiful Mrs. Trevelyan, had disgusted him. He hardly recognized the blushing, Colonel Trevelyan was in particularly good humor; he was leaning over the sofa on which Geraldine sat, looking really pleased to have come back to her, and admiring the youthful beauty, which was none the less because her recent illness had given it a rather fragile and pensive appearance. The changing color of not strong health was very becoming, and could not but contrast pleasantly with the powder and rouge he was so often called on to admire; her fair and with a little bit of lace—an apology for a cap-covering but not hiding it, also looked really lovely, after the duchess's large and coarse chignon of frizzed dark hair. Our heroine was smiling brightly up in her husband's face as the visitors drew near, and was only perhaps a little paler when she had gone through the last hand-shaking, having begun with Lord Devereux and ended with Mr. l'Estrange. "Shall I give you some tea?" she asked the former; but he declined on the plea of being too old to have fallen into that modern innovation. Colonel de Tabley, who was fully as old, but who wished to be thought young, accepted; and Sir Charles Vaux thought it spoiled his dinner. Geraldine's hand shook a little, and her voice was not so assured, when she turned, at last, to Mr. l'Es- | trange; but he had gone to a far-off corner of the room, with his host, to admire a Greuze, and did not hear her speak. "Will you have some tea, L'Estrange? you have been asked five times!" shouted Lord Devereux, with that impromptu exaggeration which rather stupid, good-natured people mistake for humor. "Thank you very much-I beg your pardon, Mrs. Trevelyan;" and Arthur received his cup of tea from her not very steady hand, and sat down opposite to her. For the first time since he had been in the room, he looked at his hostess; she was sipping her tea slowly, and her eyes were fixed upon her cup, as if she saw there something in- | teresting; the attitude was pretty and graceful-somehow Geraldine always fell into easy and unstudied poses; then the surroundings were charming and becoming; the square but perfectly-proportioned room, fitted up with books and pictures, and Limoges enamel gleaming here and there and relieving the dulness of the bookshelves; even the cups and saucers, though not costly, were well chosen, and their pretty and varied colors helped the effect. Geraldine's fairy fingers flitted in and out among them. Mr. l'Estrange watched her and admired; his artist eye pleased with the picture, but hating the gleaming jewels which seemed to weigh down and not enhance the beauty of the hands he had drawn so carefully, and every line of which was so familiar to him, every blue vein so well remembered; for the hands of my heroine had a great charm. I have seen more perfect ones, quite as white, quite as taper, fingers as well-shaped; but I have never seen hands so poetic as hers. Many beautiful hands have a certain sensuousness about them; they are too white, too rose-leaved in the palms and fingers; they look too much as if they could do nothing but display their beauty, or work foolish and costly toys; not the hands which could smooth the pillows of the sick, prop up the weary, rock to rest tired children, soothe perturbed brains, or, when wanted, write and plan and help others. Geraldine's, though slight and delicate and whiter than snow, resembled herself--pure, true, guileless, lovely to look upon, when folded in her lap, or flashing quick and bright as she played with her child and clapped them, as she hoped he would by-and-by. They were ready to work, if need be; they looked capable, though so small; their touch was THE LITTLE HEIR OF TREVELYAN. 39 tender and womanly; and though | eries so habitual to him, and which you could have crushed all the fin- those who knew him well never gers in one vigorous clasp, you felt thought of disturbing. that there was power and sympathy in them. "I have not seen my godson yet," Lord Devereux was saying, cheerily; "is he asleep now? and is that a sight to be reserved for to-morrow?" Colonel de Tabley and Sir Charles Vaux devoutly hoped so. They were willing enough to linger by their pretty girlish hostess, who, though a mother, had something of the air of a bride still about her; she was So childish-looking, it was difficult to imagine that she had a child of her own; and youth is ever attractive, particularly to men who are bidding good-by to it forever. The little heir of Trevelyan soon appeared, covered with Valenciennes lace and half-smothered in Cashmere, borne by a lady of portly dimensions, whose rustling silk gown might have stood of itself, as the maids say. If she had carried England's heir-presumptive, she could not have looked more important, though the babe was a poor, sickly, yellow-looking little thing, far more wizen and ugly than is usual at that age. Lord Devereux, who had stood sponsor to many little heirs, and had flattered many pretty mothers, surveyed it learnedly through his glass, and pronounced it a very fine baby. The nurse made a dignified "I will go and find the young squall-courtesy, and looked with great disaper, Geraldine, and send him to you, if probation at the silent figure seated by he is fit to be seen," said Colonel Tre- the fire. velyan, good-naturedly; then, turning to his guests, "I will join you in the billiard-room in less than ten minutes." Geraldine, whose whole face had lighted up at the sight of her child, asked meekly if she might hold it; and, having received permission to do A servant presently appeared to so, she sat down trembling with hapshow them the room. In that well-trained household all was done as it seemed by magic, and to a stranger it might have looked like an enchanted castle, where wealth, luxury, and refinement, must shut out sorrow and sickness, and all the ills that flesh is heir to. Colonel de Tabley and the baronet disappeared with their quiet and deferential escort; Lord Devereux goodhumoredly awaited the arrival of the baby; while Mr. l'Estrange sat on, staring at the fire in one of those rev piness, and, lifting the wee thing to the level of her own beautiful and blooming face, she proceeded to cover it with kisses, and to talk to it in that sweet, crooning voice which seems an instinct with girls and women. At the sound of her voice, Mr. l'Estrange looked up, and saw the Hebe face with its glowing color and golden hair bent down over the little wrinkled, unchildish face of the infant; and, with a muttered expression about dirty boots, which no one heard, he rose and left the room. ly. Lord Devereux laughed boisterous "Heaven help the poor lady! Only think of mine, already too heavy to carry. But, God bless them, they all take after John, and he is such a good husband-one in a thousand, mother says; no wonder the bairns have done well from their birth." Geraldine much preferred her talks with this homely young mother to the "Poor L'Estrange! the sight of the little man was too much for him! Some men can't bear babies, and say they are frightened of them." Then, making the excuse of a little private conversation with the nurse, he slipped into her willing palm the expected piece of paper which rich and aristo-high-flown language and foolish flatcratic godpapas are bound to bestow tery which the grand head-nurse lavupon those who rear the infancy of ished on her and on the poor little heirs to titles or large entailed estates, sickly baby. and then he too quitted the room. Geraldine begged to have the baby a little longer, and she was left alone with the child. She was perfectly happy in those rare moments when she was allowed to have it all to herself; she was too young and inexperienced to know that the weird little face, with the shining but inexpressive eyes, was an anxious one to contemplate. The baby never started at any noise, never winced, did not seem caught by the sight of any thing gleaming or bright, as even babies of that age should do-it was a wonderfully quiet child; even the nurse admitted this. "But then these very young ladies never did have the strongest children; it will get all right," she repeated: she had seen many such cases. But the healthy, happy, bright young woman who was acting as foster-mother to the little heir, knew better; and, as she thought of her own chubby, round, rosy boy, only two weeks older than this poor little fading blossom, she shook her head and sighed, and said to herself gently: CHAPTER XI. "Let none accuse old England's hospitality; GERALDINE and her guests did not meet again till dinner, and then Lord Devereux took in his hostess, and Mr. l'Estrange seated himself on one side of the old clergyman's pretty daughter, who with her mother were the only other ladies present, and devoted himself assiduously throughout the repast to her amusement. The dinner did not last long. They were a small party, and, thanks to the new fashion à la Russe, it need never, even in the country, be a very prolonged affair. The gentlemen did not sit long over their wine, and, as soon as they appeared in the drawing-room, a whist-party was formed. Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars preferred their rubber even to the good dinner which Colonel Trevelyan's chef invariably set before those who enjoyed the hospitality of his rich and fastidious master. Lord Devereux and Colonel de Tabley were COLONEL TREVELYAN'S PICTURE GALLERY. the opponents of the rector and his wife; and Colonel Trevelyan immediately challenged Miss Ferrars to play a game of bésique with him, calling out to his wife as he sat down: Geraldine, if you are not tired, do show Sir Charles and Mr. l'Estrange the pictures; I gave orders for the gallery to be lighted, as Mr. l'Estrange wanted to see the Sir Joshua by lamplight as well as by day. We think of lighting your portrait by the same plan, if he approves." Geraldine rose at once, and the two gentlemen followed her. The collection was an admirable one of old masters; not so much the fashion now as modern pictures, but how beautiful when really good and well chosen! There were some very fine family portraits, one by Sir Peter Lely; a Gainsborough, which was indeed magnificent-Lady Helena Trevelyan, haughty but bewitching, young as the present mistress of that princely home, and quite as lovely-lovelier many would have thought; for the full, dark eyes, the soft, rich, nearly black hair, was in such radiant contrast with the fair and peach-like bloom and the voluptuous coral lips. Her husband, Sir Philip Trevelyan, also a life-sized portrait, hung beside her; a very bad man they said he had been, and he looked it; but he had beauty also, and you no longer wondered that Colonel Trevelyan was so handsome. Both grandfather and grandmother had been renowned for their looks, and, if report spoke truly, for other things besides. The radiant lady with the laughing eyes had died in a mad 41 house, her heart broken and her reason fled, through the misconduct of the husband she had idolized. There were exquisite landscapes of Italy and France, and great German battle-plains, on which Colonel Trevelyan's ancestors had fought gallantly, and died as brave men die. Then they arrived at the Sir Joshua. It also was a portrait of a Trevelyan-a little girl stepping over a brook, with a lovely background, such as only Sir Joshua could paint; her naked feet, beautiful as the feet of children are, and her sweet, eager face delighting with childish glee in her escapade. Mr. l'Estrange stood in rapt delight before it. Sir Charles, after a cursory examination, proceeded leisurely to criticise every picture in the gallery; and having done this, and exchanged a few banalités with his hostess, but faintly responded to-for Geraldine loved pictures, and could never talk much when she was looking at them he wended his way back to the drawing-room, and, while the whist and bésique proceeded, began by reading the paper, and ended in a sound sleep. Geraldine and Mr. l'Estrange were some time before they perceived that they were alone: he woke up from a brown study in which he had lost himself over the Sir Joshua, and she also was absorbed. "Can you tell me the history of this little lady?" he asked of his young cicerone. "I hardly know," answered Geraldine, rather nervously. "I believe she was a great-aunt of Colonel Trevelyan's. He always says she is not nearly so 1 |