"Thirty thousand!" said Ethel, her tone one of astonishment, while his had been almost of objection.

"It would open a great prospect," continued Dr. May complacently; "with Norman's talents, and such a lift as that, he might be one of the first men in England, provided he had nerve and hardness enough, which I doubt."

"He would not care for it," said Ethel.

"No; but the field of usefulness; but what an old fool I am, after all my resolutions not to be ambitious for that boy; to be set a-going by such a thing as this! Still Norman is something out of the common way. I wonder what Spencer thinks of him."

"And you never mean them to hear of it?"

"If they settle it for themselves," said Dr. May, "that sanction will come in to give double value to mine; or if I should see poor Norman hesitating as to the inequality, I might smooth the way; but you see, Ethel, this puts us in a most delicate situation towards this pretty little creature. What her father wanted was only to guard her from fortune-hunters, and if she should marry suitably elsewhere--why, we will be contented."

"I don't think I should be," said Ethel.

"She is the most winning of humming-birds, and what we see of her now, gives one double confidence in her. She is so far from the petted, helpless girl that he, poor man, would fain have made her! And she has a bright, brave temper and elastic spirits that would be the very thing for him, poor boy, with that morbid sensitiveness--he would not hurt her, and she would brighten him. It would be a very pretty thing--but we must never think about it again."

"If we can help it," said Ethel.

"Ah! I am sorry I have put it into your head too. We shall not so easily be unconscious now, when they talk about each other in the innocent way they do. We have had a lesson against being pleased at match-making!"

But, turning away from the subject, "You shall not lose your Cocksmoor income, Ethel--"

"I had never thought of that. You have taken no fees here since we have been all one family."

"Well, he has been good enough to leave me 500, and Cocksmoor can have the interest, if you like."

"Oh, thank you, papa."

"It is only its due, for I suppose that is for attendance. Personally, to myself, he has left that beautiful Claude which he knew I admired so much. He has been very kind! But, after all, we ought not to be talking of all this--I should not have known it, if I had not been forced to read the will. Well, so we are in Flora's house, Ethel! I wonder how poor dear little Meta will feel the being a guest here, instead of the mistress. I wish that boy were three or four years older! I should like to take her straight home with us--I should like to have her for a daughter. I shall always look on her as one."

"As a Daisy!" said Ethel.

"Don't talk of it!" said Dr. May hastily; "this is no time for such things. After all, I am glad that the funeral is not here--Flora and Meta might be rather overwhelmed with these three incongruous sets of relations. By their letters, those Riverses must be quite as queer a lot as George's relations. After all, if we have nothing else, Ethel, we have the best of it, in regard to such relations as we have."

"There is Lord Cosham," said Ethel.

"Yes, he is Meta's guardian, as well as her brother; but he could not have her to live with him. She must depend upon Flora. But we shall see."

Ethel felt confident that Flora would be very kind to her little sister-in-law, and yet one of those gleams of doubt crossed her, whether Flora would not be somewhat jealous of her own authority.

Late the next evening, the carriage drove to the door, and George and Flora appeared in the hall. Their sisters went out to meet them, and George folded Meta in his arms, and kissing her again and again, called her his poor dear little sister, and wept bitterly, and even violently.

Flora stood beside Ethel, and said, in a low voice, that poor George felt it dreadfully; and then came forward, touched him gently, and told him that he must not overset Meta; and, drawing her from him, kissed her, and said what a grievous time this had been for her, and how sorry they had been to leave her so long, but they knew she was in the best hands.

"Yes, I should have been so sorry you had been over-tired. I was quite well off," said Meta.

"And you must look on us as your home," added Flora.

"How can she?" thought Ethel. "This is taking possession, and making Meta a guest already!"

However, Meta did not seem so to feel it--she replied by caresses, and turned again to her brother. Poor George was by far the most struck down of all the mourners, and his whole demeanour gave his new relations a much warmer feeling towards him than they could ever have hoped to entertain. His gentle refined father had softly impressed his duller nature; and his want of attention and many extravagances came back upon him acutely now, in his changed home. He could hardly bear to look at his little orphan sister, and lavished every mark of fondness upon her; nor could he endure to sit at the bottom of his table; but when they had gone in to dinner, he turned away from the chair and hid his face. He was almost like a child in his want of self-restraint; and with all Dr.

May's kind soothing manner, he could not bring him to attend to any of the necessary questions as to arrangements, and was obliged to refer to Flora, whose composed good sense was never at fault.

Ethel was surprised to find that it would be a great distress to Meta to part with her until the funeral was over, though she would hardly express a wish lest Ethel should be needed at home. As soon as Flora perceived this, she begged her sister to stay, and again Ethel felt unpleasantly that Meta might have seen, if she had chosen, that Flora took the invitation upon herself.

So, while Dr. May, with George, Norman, and Tom, went to London, she remained, though not exactly knowing what good she was doing, unless by making the numbers rather less scanty; but both sisters declared her to be the greatest comfort possible; and when Meta shut herself up in her own room, where she had long learned to seek strength in still communing with her own heart, Flora seemed to find it a relief to call her sister to hers, and talk over ordinary subjects, in a tone that struck on Ethel's ear as a little incongruous--but then Flora had not been here from the first, and the impression could not be as strong. She was very kind, and her manner, when with others, was perfect, from its complete absence of affectation; but, alone with Ethel, there was a little complacency sometimes betrayed, and some curiosity whether her father had read the will. Ethel allowed what she had heard of the contents to be extracted from her, and it certainly did not diminish Flora's secret satisfaction in being 'somebody'.

She told the whole history of her visits; first, how cordial Lady Leonora Langdale had been, and then, how happy she had been at Glenbracken. The old Lord and Lady, and Marjorie, all equally charming in their various ways; and Norman Ogilvie so good a son, and so highly thought of in his own country.

"Did I tell you, Ethel, that he desired to be remembered to you?"

"Yes, you said so."

"What has Coralie done with it?" continued Flora, seeking in her dressing-case. "She must have put it away with my brooches. Oh, no, here it is. I had been looking for Cairngorm specimens in a shop, saying I wanted a brooch that you would wear, when Norman Ogilvie came riding after the carriage, looking quite hot and eager. He had been to some other place, and hunted this one up. Is it not a beauty?"

It was one of the round Bruce brooches, of dark pebble, with a silver fern-leaf lying across it, the dots of small Cairngorm stones. "The Glenbracken badge, you know," continued Flora.

Ethel twisted it about in her fingers, and said, "Was not it meant for you?"

"It was to oblige me, if you choose so to regard it," said Flora, smiling. "He gave me no injunctions; but, you see, you must wear it now.

I shall not wear coloured brooches for a year."

Ethel sighed. She felt as if her black dress ought, perhaps, to be worn for a nearer cause. She had a great desire to keep that Glenbracken brooch; and surely it could not be wrong. To refuse it would be much worse, and would only lead to Flora's keeping it, and not caring for it.

"Then it is your present, Flora?"

"If you like better to call it so, my dear. I find Norman Ogilvie is going abroad in a few months. I think we ought to ask him here on his way."

"Flora, I wish you would not talk about such things!"

"Do you really and truly, Ethel?"

"Certainly not, at such a time as this," said Ethel.

Flora was checked a little, and sat down to write to Marjorie Ogilvie.

"Shall I say you like the brooch, Ethel?" she asked presently.

"Say what is proper," said Ethel impatiently. "You know what I mean, in the fullest sense of the word."

"Do I?" said Flora.

"I mean," said Ethel, "that you may say, simply and rationally, that I like the thing, but I won't have it said as a message, or that I take it as his present."

"Very well," said Flora, "the whole affair is simple enough, if you would not be so conscious, my dear."

"Flora, I can't stand your calling me my dear!"

"I am very much obliged to you," said Flora, laughing, more than she would have liked to be seen, but recalled by her sister's look. Ethel was sorry at once.

"Flora, I beg your pardon; I did not mean to be cross, only please don't begin about that; indeed, I think you had better leave out about the brooch altogether. No one will wonder at your passing it over in such a return as this."

"You are right," said Flora thoughtfully.