ancient notions of what he did with the marrow- bone.'
'Oh! there is Papa looking in at us,' said Anne; 'now for the question of pennon and pennant.'
'Oh! Anne, it is all nonsense,' cried Helen; 'do not shew it.'
But Anne, with Helen's paper in her hand, had already attacked Sir Edward, who, to the author's great surprise, actually read the poem all through, smiling very kindly, and finished by saying, 'Ah ha! Helen, it is plain enough that your friends are naval. I can see where your pennant came from.'
'But is it not a flag, Uncle Edward?' asked Helen.
'A flag it is,' said Sir Edward, 'and properly called and spelt pendant.'
'There, Helen, you are an antidote to the hydrophobia,' said Rupert; 'everything becomes--'
'Do not let us have any more of that stale joke,' said Elizabeth; 'it is really only a poetical license to use a sea- flag for a land-flag, and Helen had the advantage of us, since we none of us knew that Pennant signified anything but the naturalist.'
'And pray, Helen,' said Sir Edward, 'am I to consider this poem as an equivalent for the music you have cheated us of, this evening?'
'I hope you will consider that it is,' said Elizabeth; 'is it not positively poetical, Uncle Edward?'
Helen was hardly ever in a state of greater surprise and pleasure than at this moment, for though she could not seriously believe that her lines were worthy of all the encomiums bestowed on them, yet she was now convinced that Elizabeth was not absolutely determined to depreciate every performance of hers, and that she really possessed a little kindness for her.
When Mr. Woodbourne rang the bell, Elizabeth gathered up all the papers, and was going to put them into a drawer, when Harriet came up to her, saying in a whisper, evidently designed to attract notice, 'Lizzie, do give me that ridiculous thing, you know, of Mr. Merton's; I could not bear you to have it, you would shew it to everyone.'
'Indeed I should do no such thing,' said Elizabeth; 'I never wish to see it more, you are very welcome to it.'
Harriet received the precious document with great satisfaction, carefully folded it up, and placed it in her bag, very much to Rupert's delight, as he silently watched her proceedings.
When they went up to bed, Anne followed Lady Merton to her room, in order to ask some question about the dress which she was to wear the next day, Sunday, and after remaining with her a few minutes, she returned to Elizabeth. She found her looking full of trouble, quite a contrast to the bright animated creature she had been a few minutes before.
'My dear Lizzie,' exclaimed Anne, 'has anything happened? what has grieved you?'
'Why, Anne,' said Elizabeth, with almost a groan, 'has not enough happened to grieve me? is it not terrible to think of what I have done?'
Anne stood still and silent, much struck by her cousin's sorrow; for she had considered their expedition to the Mechanics' Institute as a foolish girlish frolic, but by no means as serious a matter as it now proved to be.
'I want you to tell me, Anne,' continued Elizabeth; 'was I not quite out of my senses yesterday evening? I can hardly believe it was myself who went to that horrible place, I wish you could prove that it was my double- ganger.'
Anne laughed,
'But does it not seem incredible,' said Elizabeth, 'that I, Elizabeth Woodbourne, should have voluntarily meddled with a radical, levelling affair, should have sought out Mrs. Turner and all the set I most dislike, done perhaps an infinity of mischief, and all because Kate wanted to go out on a party of pleasure with that foolish Willie. Oh! Anne, I wish you would beat me.'
'Would that be any comfort to you?' said Anne, smiling.
'Yes,' said Elizabeth; 'I should feel as if I was suffering a little for my madness.
Oh! how I hope Papa will speak to me about it. If he does not, I shall see his displeasure in his eyes, and oh! I could bear anything better than the silent stern way in which he used to look at me, once before, when I had behaved very ill.
And then, to- morrow is Sunday, and I shall scarcely see him all day, and he will have no time to speak to me; and how can I get through a Sunday, feeling that he is angry with me? how shall I teach the children, or do anything as usual?
Anne, what do you think was the first sound in my ears when I awoke this morning, and has been returning upon me all day?--the words, 'It was a tree to be desired to make one wise.''
'Little wisdom we have gained from it,' said Anne.
'Eve's wisdom,' said Elizabeth, 'the knowledge of evil, and the wisdom of vanity and vexation of spirit. But was it not curious, Anne? when first I woke, before I had opened my eyes, those words were sounding in my ears, like a dream of Papa's voice, reading the Lesson at church; I almost fell asleep again, and again those words came back in Papa's voice, and then I woke entirely, and before I had seen what kind of day it was, before I knew whether it was Saturday or Sunday, I was sure there was something wrong, and then there was all this black Mechanics' Institute business before me. And all through this day those words have been ringing in my ears, and coming upon me like the pressure of King James's iron belt.'
'Have they indeed?' said Anne, 'I could hardly have believed it. I have not seen your 'look o'ercast and lower,' like his.'
'Perhaps not,' said Elizabeth; 'but yet I was like him.
'Forward he rushed with double glee
Into the tide of revelry.'
And I believe that having anything on my mind puts me in wilder spirits, apparently, than usual, but I am sure that my merriment to- day was no proof that I was happy. It was partly, I believe, from a mad spirit, like what
