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little garden has its few golden crocuses, and the shrubbery is overrun with thousands of snow-drops—the fair slight flower which so looks its name—that Emily was passing through the little wood, whose old trees and huge branches in winter gave warmth, as in summer they gave shade. The clear blue sky peering through the boughs—the sunshine reflected from the silvery stems of the birch—an occasional green old laurel, whose size was the only mark of its age—the warm air,—all seemed to bid a cheerful farewell to winter; and Emily loitered on her homeward path, lost in visionary creations, which perhaps took an unconscious brightness from the glad influences of sun and air—when her reverie was broken in upon by a strange step and voice. "The pleasure I feel at seeing Miss Arundel again will perhaps prove my excuse for thus trespassing on her solitary meditations." A primrose kid glove put aside the branches, a breath of perfume aux milles fleurs came upon the air, and a very good-looking cavalier stepped forward; though, what with pre-occupation, surprise, and actual forgetfulness, it was some minutes before she recalled the identity of the stranger with that of Mr. Boyne Sillery.