106 ‘ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS.

varied by the rich variety of nature, was the
prospect from the parlour-window of the farm-
house, that was to be her own. ‘‘ And wood-
bine, roses, and mignonette breathe as sweet
odours as exotics, and belong of right to the
cottages of England. Ah!” continued the
right-minded girl, ‘ better is a little and content
therewith, than all the riches of wealth and art
without it. If her ambition had even a great
object I could forgive her; but all this for the
littleness of society.” This train of thought
led her back to the days of their girlhood, and
she remembered how the same desire to out-
shine manifested itself in Helen’s childhood.
If Mr. Stokes had been there he could have
told her of the pink gingham, with her grand-
mother’s injudicious remark thereupon—* Be
content with the pink gingham now, Helen—
the time will come when you shall have a better ;”
instead of—‘*Be always content, Helen, with
what befits your sphere of life.”’

That day was an eventful one to Rose. In
the evening she was seated opposite the window,
observing the lamplighter flying along with his
ladder and his link through the increasing fog,
and wondering why the dinner was delayed so
much beyond the usual hour—when the little
old cranky gentleman, whose keen and clever
observations had given Rose a very good idea
of his head, and a very bad one of his heart,
stood beside her. In a few brief words he ex-