Year: 1867

two or three weeks, when, according to
the usual malignity of circumstances,
most inconvenient and agravating IN
terest in Walter Stone began to appear
in the conduct of Miss Stuart, the chill
dren's goyerness. 1t is true that Mr.
Stone was handsome young man,
with manner in which none but pro-
fessional eye could detect any taint OF
madness, but that made it all the more
alarming; and feeling himself as yet
not thoroughly acquainted with the
state of his patients mind, the doctor
was on tenterhooks. As he SAID, ne
dared give no serious warning.
nervous patient might be all very well,
but no governess would stay with 1--we
lunatic loose about the house. so
DR.. Holford was fain to let matters
take their course, trusting to the
chapter of accidents, and to Miss
Stuart's good sense to set her
right in time. After all, he thought
there could be no great risk. Walter
Stone had come to him with an excel
lent character for quietness, and might,
for all he knew, be durable. So he de-
termined to hold his tongue, and hope
that no bad consequences would en-
sue. What did ensue we shall present.
ly see.


A day OF two after this conversation
with Mr.. Bailey, the doctor happened
to look out from his surgery window on
the little plot of ground at the back Of
his house which he was pleased to dig
nifty with the name of garden. DR..
Holford worked in it good deal him
self, and took great interest in the one
or two fiower-beds, and the border rich
with bright colors, in the arrangement
of which he flattered himself Sir Joseph
Paxton could not hold q candle to him.
The air was scented with the breath of
lilacs and hyacinths, and the perfume
of two gnarled old hawthorns, cover
ed, one with white, and the other with
pink blossom, that stood on the grass
plat by the side of the path, and that
were the pride of the doctors heart.
That garden was kingdom for bees
and butterflies, and they hummed and
danced merrily in the sunshine. On
this particular May afternoon, a fresh
little human flower moved quickly two
and fro among the butterflies, clad in
grey stuff gown, with pink ribbons at
the throat and wrist. 1t was the young
governess, Lizzie Stuart. She was a
pretty girl. of about twenty, with large
grew eyes and fair shiney hair. A sprig
of pink may was stuck in the waistband
that girded small round waist, and
they were very little feet that tapped
impatiently upon the gravel walk.
The doctor could not help watch
ing her from the window as he
smoked his pipe; she made such pretty
foreground to his favorite flowers as
she went and came under the baw-
thorns. Presently young man came
out, and walked across the grass-plat
towards her.. She met him with an out
stretched hand, and they strolled along
the path together. 1t was perfectly
natural that they should do so, and the
doctor ought to have been glad that
his patient should be subjected to such
soothing influences, but somehow he
sighed little as he saw how earnestly
they were talking, her face raised up to
him, and his bent down to her. Ger
tainIy Lizzie did not seem afraid of
Walter Stone. The doctor put his pipe
in the corner with another sigh, and
went up stairs to dress for dinner.


The pair in the garden did not remain
long together. Walter Stone sauntered
back into the House, and Lizzie went
on walking up aud down the short
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