PRINCELY mansion reared its turreted

head amidst the stately forest trees grow

ing on the near lowlands; its red-brick walls were all aglow with the morning sunlight, its pleasaunce was bespangled with gay flowers; a bright stream, rushing over some slate rocks hard by, washed the very walls of the noble house, then meandered away toward a neighbouring village.

On the main road, between the mansion and the village, a hut had fallen to the ground, and beside

the ruins stood a peasant with his wife and children, from whose signs of distress it was evident that the downfall of the cot was a real calamity—indeed, it had buried all their humble belongings. But as they stood there grieving over the desolate scene, a young man, of polished bearing, and a little girl, mounted upon a white palfrey, were seen approaching.

"Good morning to thee," said the pedestrian, as he and his young companion halted beside the sorrowing group.

"Good morning to you, sir,” replied the peasant. “Prithee, friend, how did this accident befall thine house?"

"Right early i' the morning a gale o' wind carried the roof away, then, forsooth, the walls did fall in."

"Hath your family sustained aught of injury?' “No, sir, for, as it happed, we were all up wi' the birds, and away to labour i' the outfield."

"Thank God then, for dear life spared! But take my word for 't there was neither 'hap' nor chance in the matter. I tell ye not one of yon poor sparrows may fall to the ground without God's knowledge, much less may your dwelling."

"But we be homeless, sir!" exclaimed the weeping wife, "our goods lie all crushed 'neath the wrack, an' our year's corn is all buried i' the heap, and I wot not how I shall feed the younkers!"

A fresh burst of tears followed this lamentation, and the sympathetic little maiden upon the palfrey wept too; but presently wiping her eyes, she said to the gentleman at her side:

"Prithee, dear Master Aylmer, let me go fetch my silver groats that the Queen Katharine did give to me.'

"To what end, little one?"

"That these poor folk may have them to buy corn."

"Nay, nay, I cannot suffer you to part with those prized coins. Be content, sweet, I will see that speedy and effectual help be given to these good folk."

Beneath a huge oak, at a little distance, was another girl, who, though unperceived by our party, was watching the scene with so much interest that she had loosed the corners of her apron, and let fall at her feet a profusion of wild flowers which she had been gathering. There she stood, with blue and white violets, ferns, and forget-me-nots tumbling over her red shoes, and with her bright dark eyes fixed eagerly upon the little horsewoman before her.

Then away she bounded, in utter forgetfulness of the fact that her fair buds and blossoms were lying by the roadside; nor did she stop until she reached the abode of the village doctor, whose child she was—an only child, an impulsive, wilful

little being, but loving to the very core. She was motherless, too, for Dr. Clive's wife had just lived to look upon her first-born infant, and then she had been taken to her rest.

"Father, father!" exclaimed she, as she unceremoniously burst into the good doctor's laboratory, where he was deep in the mysteries of decoction, "What think you, what think you, father?"

“I bethink me that my herbs have well-nigh simmered enough."

"But, father, listen! I have seen the Lady Jane! close, quite close-an' she hath such a sweet face! a little, fair face, an' oh, so winsome withal! an' she did shed tears because the cottage of Will Mayes hath fallen to the ground, an' she wanted to go fetch her own silver groats to buy corn for the poor folk! an' Master Aylmer was there too, an' "

Alack, alack, madcap! prithee, moderate the speed of thy speech. Did'st say that a cot had been blown down?"

"Yes, truly, father, the cot of poor Will Mayesright down to the ground, an' there it lieth; an' the sweet Lady Jane—”

"Is the Lady Jane hurt by the downfall?"

'Hurt!" cried little Kitty. "Hurt! no, father."

"Hath any person sustained injury?"

"No, for the good folk were all away to work in the fields when it fell."