The next morning, after breakfast, a little note came from the hotel to the effect that Madame D'Aubencourt wished to speak to Mr. Roberts, who went without delay.

"I wished to see you," said the lady, “in order to talk to you about a little matter on which Sylvine's heart is much set. She is very anxious for your daughter to return with her to spend the winter in Paris; will you consent to her going ?"

Mr. Roberts looked somewhat surprised.

"I knew you would not be prepared for this," she continued, “but thought it better to hear your decision at once, as we are anxious to return home as early as possible. Supposing your little girl returns with us, and we shall be happy to see her, how long will her preparations detain us at Nant Llysin ?"

"Indeed, you are most kind," replied Mr. Roberts, "but I must at present decline any invitations for my child, though I feel sure it would be a great delight to her."

"Perhaps you are thinking of her return," said Madame D'Aubencourt; "but do not be uneasy on that head. We should certainly have friends returning to England who would take charge of her."

“I thank you very much, but it was not of that I was thinking. To speak frankly, madame, I could not well afford the expenses of such a journey for Jenny now, and even if I could, I think it would not

do. A visit in so wealthy a family might perhaps make her feel the poverty of her home on her return, and unsettle her for her old duties and studies. It will most likely be her lot to earn her own living when she is grown up, and it is for that future that I am endeavouring to fit her. Rich dresses, expensive living, servants, and visitors are things she will have little to do with."

"Your reasons are certainly good ones," replied Madame D'Aubencourt, "and I will not try to persuade you from anything you think best for your little daughter." And so the matter ended. When Mr. Roberts returned to the cottage he found the three girls seated in the parlour, busily putting up drawings, books, etc.

Well," he said, "what have you got to show me after all this jaunting about ?"

Beatrice brought out her sketches, dried ferns, and sea-weeds; Jenny shyly produced her diary; and Sylvine hers, much defaced with blots and erasures.

"I've got nothing worth showing," she said, with a blush and a sigh;" Jenny's diary is as good as a history, and as neat as can be; and as to Beatrice, look at her collection!"

Mr. Roberts was equally ready to see and praise all. Very pleased was he at the witnesses of Beatrice's industry; very smilingly he glanced at Jenny's clearly written diary; very patiently he deciphered Sylvine's

P

scrawl.

"Good," he said, emphatically, when his scrutiny was over. "I see three things here that please me much. I see, in the first place, signs of careful industry; in the second, of wide-awake observation ; in the third, love and admiration of God's world. The last pleases me most, but all give me great gratification. In this world, my dear children, if we would grow wise and good, we must use eyes, understanding, and heart. We must take heed of what passes round us; we must seize every opportunity of gaining knowledge, and we must love God better, for every pleasure His works give us.”

Beatrice selected one of her prettiest drawings and placed it in the good man's hand.

"Do take this as a keepsake from me," she said, with tears in her eyes. "You are the first one who

has taught me to love Nature, and I shall always be grateful to you and remember the Vale of Llysin." He took the drawing with quiet, earnest thanks, and placed it in his desk.

"I have nothing to give you," said Sylvine, sorrowfully. A moment after, however, she rushed from the room, and by-and-by returned carrying a little Prayer-book.

"This is my keepsake," she said, and clambered to his knee for a kiss; "and, oh! you dear, good Mr. Roberts, I do so wish you would come to Paris and teach me all the clever things Jenny knows."