mrs. arlington was not one to do things by halves, so that when she welcomed isabel, on her return, it was no longer as "the governess," but as her future daughter-in-law--as the bride-elect of her darling son--indeed as one of them, the arlingtons. she was glad, as he was so determined upon being a missionary, that he was to marry before he went, but she would rather--far rather--that he should have chosen any other than "the governess," though she had nothing against isabel--nothing. still it was a trial to the haughty mother that her only son--the hope and pride of the family--should marry a governess. she knew that many would say she had been imprudent in having so young and pretty a governess, knowing how fond everard was of the society of his young sisters. and, indeed, she did feel she had been wrong when she got everard's letter announcing the engagement, and it was some little time before she could be at all satisfied with the matter. grace was excessively annoyed, and, by her anger, tended greatly to stimulate her mother's displeasure, saying that it was quite a disgrace to the family, and that she would never receive isabel as a sister. fortunately her consent was never likely to be asked, as her easy-going brother, the pet of the house, had a pretty determined will, and her opinion would certainly not influence him in the matter. indeed, now that he had isabel's consent, he would have married her even though opposed by any number of relations; and it was with no thought of obtaining their ideas on the subject that he had written, but simply to inform them of the fact, little suspecting the commotion it would cause at elm grove.

however, the course he pursued had the effect of reconciling his mother to the match, and it was well that it was so, or isabel would have met with a sorry reception on her arrival.

very quickly after the letter we have mentioned, came another, such as only everard could write--written out of a full heart, telling of his happiness, and also of his former despair, long probation, and weary waiting; how his love for isabel had dated from that sunday evening when he first saw her in the school-room with the children; and expressing the hope that his mother would give isabel a place in her heart equal to that of her own children.

tears of sympathy and love fell from the mother's eyes as she read, and a happy smile played around her mouth as she refolded the letter which would be read again and again. henceforth she was won. so, then, when lady ashton, who had now returned from england, came to condole with dear mrs. arlington upon the ill luck that had befallen the family, she found that lady quite satisfied, to her profound astonishment. however, she gave a willing ear and ready sympathy to grace, who was quite disgusted at her mother's contentment, and returned with lady ashton to the park, saying, that she was far too angry to meet them at present; and there she remained for weeks nursing her wrath against her only brother, who would so shortly leave for a distant land, not heeding the possibility, nay probability, that he might never return. who could foresee the dangers that might be in store for him? read the dangers and miseries to which the missionaries sent to foreign and heathen lands are only too often subjected--dangers on sea and land, and fearful cruelties at the hands of wild and savage creatures, more ferocious sometimes in their implacable fury than the beasts of prey. but even overlooking these more dreadful calamities, there is the climate, so trying to the natives of cooler countries. nor was she just to isabel. she would only see a beautiful, designing girl, who had succeeded in catching her brother. she was angry with isabel, with everard, with her mother, and, lastly, with herself, to think that she, too, had been for a short time deluded like the rest. she felt now that she positively hated isabel.

lady ashton did her best to fan the flame of resentment. what wonder, then, that under that lady's able management it grew day by day, until grace really believed her silly anger to be just indignation at her brother's blind infatuation. ah, foolish grace!

to emily's great satisfaction, everard preached his first sermon in the church they usually attended, and was very calm and self-possessed considering the eight eager faces in the family pew, his heightened color being the only evidence that this was the first time he had addressed a congregation from the pulpit. it happened, strangely enough, that a collection for the missionary society was to be taken up on this occasion, and the young deacon delivered an exceedingly eloquent discourse advocating the cause of missions, with a warmth and earnestness that carried his hearers along with him, and showed that his heart was in the work. no one who heard him could doubt his future success in the cause.

then what a happy group waited for him after service, and what approving smiles beamed upon him from loved faces when he came!

"oh, everard! i should never go to sleep at sermon time if you always preached," cried little amy. "it was so nice," added rose, warmly; while the proud father wrung his son's hand in silence more eloquent than words.

then everard disappointed a crowd of admiring friends by disappearing through a side gate and going home across the fields, even waving back his young sisters, who would have followed him. "i could not stand it," he said, on reaching home half an hour after the others, though his way had been much shorter, he having spent the interim in self-communion beneath the shade of a friendly oak. oh! that was a happy sunday at elm grove; but, like all earthly happiness, it had one cloud--grace's strange and unkind conduct.