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220 just left. The simplicity of the pretty chamber where they sat was different from any thing they had seen before. The cheerful white wainscoting was ornamented with carving; and on the high mantel-shelf were ranged some curious shells and pieces of glittering spar, and a nest filled with various eggs. Around were many of the little graceful signs of feminine taste and presence. There were some light book-shelves, an embroidery-frame, a lute, and in the large bow-window, so placed as to catch whatever sunshine could be found in December, a number of plants—mostly common flowers, but improved into another nature by sedulous cultivation.

The aspect was southern and sheltered, the rime had long since melted from the evergreens, and a few late roses looked in at the casement. Somewhat pale were they, and drooping; but lovely, for they were the last. Beyond the garden was a field, and that skirted a vast arm of the forest—dense and impenetrable, though now the thickness of the foliage added nothing to the matting of the branches.

A drizzling rain kept them close prisoners for the three succeeding days, which, nevertheless, passed easily away. Of Lawrence Aylmer they saw but little; enough, however, to mark and pity