"I struck the board, and cried, No more
I will abroad.

What? shall I ever sigh and pine?
My lines and life are free: free as the road,
Loose as the wind, as large as store.

He that forbears

To suit and serve his need,

Deserves his load.

But as I raved and grew more fierce, and wild
At every word,

Methought I heard One calling, Child;

And I replied, My LORD."

GEORGE HERBERT.

MR. BRANSCOMBE had heard of Brian's disappearance from school, and was in great anxiety and perplexity about it. He was suffering from such a violent attack of influenza, that he would not have been able to set off himself in search of his nephew, even if he had had any clue as to whither to direct his steps, which he really had not. So, after a good deal of time spent in fruitless conjecture, and dissertations from Mrs. Branscombe on Brian's eccentric character, and the presentiment she had always had that some misfortune would befal him through his heedlessness, he bethought him of calling in his friend the Vicar to his counsels, and accordingly despatched a message, begging Mr. Merivale to come to him.

When Mr. Branscombe's messenger arrived, the

Vicar was just setting off to inquire for a sick child, whose parents lived in a little cottage on the outskirts of the wood; but as the summons was urgent, and he did not know how long he might be detained, he decided on going at once to Mr. Branscombe's, and allowing Sibyl to be the bearer of his. inquiries after the little invalid.

The day was cold and wintry; and though no fog thickened the fresh country air, the earth was damp, and the breeze struck so chill that Sibyl folded her little cloak more closely round her, as she trudged forth with a little basket on her arm, containing some delicacies which Mrs. Merivale thought likely to tempt the sick child's appetite. The neighbourhood was so quiet, and she was so well known to all the villagers, that she could walk alone without fear or hesitation of any kind; and she rather liked to be sent on errands of this sort, since there was something very pleasant in the sense of being trusted, and also in the feeling that she was being really useful to her papa.

She was just passing an opening in the wood, where a cross-path, running from North Lyon, emerged into the high road, when she heard her own name uttered in Brian's familiar tones; and in another minute he leaped out of the shadow of the trees, and stood before her.

She was not troubled with "nerves," so she did not scream or turn pale, though she was naturally a good deal startled by such an unexpected appearance. She gave a little exclamation of joyous surprise, followed by the eager question, "How did you come here, dear Brian? Have your holidays begun already ?"

He was so much out of breath, that at first he could only shake his head in reply; but in a minute or two he recovered himself, and in a few abrupt words gave her the history of his adventures.

"Run away from school! you have!" she exclaimed, looking at him, as if she could scarcely believe her ears; "and you were going away to Africa without telling anybody, or saying goodbye to any of us! Oh, Brian, was it right ?"

"I don't know," said Brian; "I scarcely stopped to think about that. All I want is to go to my father. I must go to him, Sibyl; he has not been getting on well, and he is lonely and ill. I can't bear to be so comfortable and jolly at school, doing nothing for anyone but myself, while he wants me -I must go, that is the truth.'

"Has he told you to come ?" said Sibyl, scarcely knowing what to think, and rather frightened at Brian's vehemence.

"No, I can't say he has. The last letter I had from him he said I mustn't come out to him till my education was finished; but he only said that because he was thinking of my good, and not of himself. I am sure he would like to have me with him." "Then why didn't he take you, instead of sending you to Mr. Branscombe's ?"

"Because, I tell you, he thought more of my good than his own pleasure. It's no use talking, Sibyl, if you were in my place you would feel just as I do. Suppose Mr. Merivale was abroad somewhere, and you heard he had been ill, wouldn't you want to go to him ?"

66

Papa? oh that I should! I understand now, Brian; but why have you come here? Do you think uncle will help you your to go ?"

"Uncle Walter! no, that he won't. He said a lot to me one day about its being a very wise thing of my father to have left me behind; and that, at my present age, I could only have been an encumbrance to him, and a heap of things like that. No, I am come down to see your father, and ask him to help me."

"To help you, without telling Mr. Branscombe ?” Ay, to be sure."

Then, oh!" said Sibyl, mournfully, "I am afraid he won't do that. I know he thinks that as your papa has put you in Mr. Branscombe's care, you must do all exactly as he wishes. He said so to me one day when I said something about Mr. Branscombe's being only your uncle."

"Then I've been at the trouble of coming here for nothing," said Brian, stamping his foot on the ground. "Oh, I wish I'd stayed in London, and had another try at getting a passage for myself. It's all up with me if Mr. Merivale tells Uncle Walter. I've a great mind to go straight back to London."

"Oh, Brian, don't say that, I am sure papa will do all he can for you," replied Sibylla earnestly. "I am so glad you have come to him, for I am quite sure he will know what is right for you to do. He has gone to Mr. Branscombe's this afternoon, but I daresay he will be come back by the time we get home. I must go now to ask after little Peter Robinson; see, in that cottage there; will you come with me? and then we can go home together."

"You are sure we won't meet Uncle Walter or Aunt Isabella ?"

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Quite sure. Poor Mr. Branscombe is ill, and Mrs. Branscombe doesn't like to leave him; she hasn't even been to church since Sunday."

Brian accompanied Sibyl to the cottage door, (making inquiries about his uncle's illness on the way) but would not go in, lest Mrs. Robinson should recognize him, and ask inconvenient questions, so Sibyl went in alone, delivered her father's and mother's messages, presented the contents of her basket, and condoled with little Peter on his sufferings.

She did it all in a sensible womanly way, for which

any one who saw her in her wild moods would scarcely have given her credit, and when she came out of the cottage her face wore such a demure businesslike expression, that Brian who had now quite recovered his goodhumour, exclaimed jestingly, "Mrs. Propriety herself, I do declare! Why, Sibyl, you seem to be growing wise in your old

age.

"Am I?" said Sibyl laughing. "Well, I do feel as if I were getting a little grim and sensible. Since you have been at school, and Austin has been ill, I haven't had so much fun as I used to have; and besides papa says I'm getting too big a girl for romps. I am twelve now, you know."

"Big' you certainly are not," said Brian, looking down at the tiny figure, so low in height and so slenderly proportioned. "You are about the size of a respectable doll, or a tall fairy."

"That's all the better. I like to look little and young, because then people are not so much surprised at seeing that I don't behave nicely; and besides I can sit on papa's knee sometimes still, though mamma does say I am too old for it."

66

You funny little thing," said Brian laughing; and thus chatting pleasantly together they wended their way towards the vicarage, almost forgetting in the delight of their renewed intercourse the cloud of trouble and perplexity that was hanging over poor Brian's head.

He insisted on waiting in the porch while Sibyl went to acquaint her mother with his arrival and its cause, and when after a short colloquy she returned for him and took him in with her, he thought he could perceive in Mrs. Merivale's calm face a shade of disapproval, strangely mingled with its kindliest and sweetest expression of welcome.

"I suppose I must not say I am glad to see you," she said as she shook hands with him, "since