"Yes, for there is no longer any danger of rain, the sun is shining beautifully; and besides, I hope you will be more amiable when you get into the open air."

She gave him his hat and crutches, took his gray shawl on her arm, and they went down to the neat carriage drawn by a handsome chestnut horse, and set apart for the use of the children.

As they entered the park, Edna noticed that the boy's eyes brightened, and that he looked eagerly at every pa.s.sing face.

"Now, Hattie, you must watch on your side, and I will keep a good lookout on mine. I wonder if she will come this evening?"

"For whom are you both looking?" asked the teacher.

"Oh! for little Lila, Bro' Felix's sweetheart!" laughed Hattie, glancing at him with a mischievous twinkle in her bright eyes.

"No such thing! Never had a sweetheart in my life! Don't be silly, Hattie! mind your window, or I guess we shan't see her."

"Well, any how. I heard Uncle Gray tell Mamma that he kissed his sweetheart's hand at the party, and I saw Bro' Felix kiss Lila's last week."

"I didn't, Miss Earl!" cried the cripple, reddening as he spoke.

"Oh! he did, Miss Earl! Stop pinching me, Bro' Felix. My arm is all black and blue, now. There she is! Look, here on my side! Here is 'Red Ridinghood!'"

Edna saw a little girl clad in scarlet, and led by a grave, middle- aged nurse, who was walking leisurely toward one of the lakes.

Felix put his head out of the window and called to the woman.

"Hannah, are going to feed the swans?"

"Good evening. Yes, we are going there now."

"Well, we will meet you there."

"What is the child's name?" asked Edna.

"Lila Manning, and she is deaf and dumb. We talk to her on our fingers."

They left the carriage, and approached the groups of children gathered on the edge of the water, and at sight of Felix, the little girl in scarlet sprang to meet him, moving her slender fingers rapidly as she conversed with him. She was an exceedingly lovely but fragile child, apparently about Hattie's age; and as Edna watched the changing expression of her delicate features, she turned to the nurse and asked:

"Is she an orphan?"

"Yes, miss; but she will never find it out as long as her uncle lives. He makes a great pet of her."

"What is his name, and where does he live?"

"Mr. Dougla.s.s G. Manning. He boards at No.--Twenty-third street; but he spends most of his time at the office. No matter what time of night he comes home, he never goes to his own room till he has looked at Lila, and kissed her good-night. Master Felix, please don't untie her hat, the wind will blow her hair all out of curl."

For some time the children were much amused in watching the swans, and when they expressed themselves willing to resume their drive, an arrangement was made with Hannah to meet at the same place the ensuing day. They returned to the carriage, and Felix said:

"Don't you think Lila is a little beauty?"

"Yes, I quite agree with you. Do you know her uncle?"

"No, and don't want to know him; he is too cross and sour. I have seen him walking sometimes with Lila, and mamma has him at her parties and dinners; but Hattie and I never see the company unless we peep, and, above all things, I hate peeping! It is ungenteel and vulgar; only poor people peep. Mr. Manning is an old bachelor, and very crabbed, so my uncle Grey says. He is the editor of the-- Magazine, that mamma declares she can't live without. Look! look, Hattie! There goes mamma this minute! Stop, Patrick! Uncle Grey!

Uncle Grey! hold up, won't you, and let me see the new horses!"

An elegant phaeton, drawn by a pair of superb black horses, drew up close to the coupe, and Mrs. Andrews and her only brother, Mr. Grey Chilton, leaned forward and spoke to the children; while Mr.

Chilton, who was driving, teased Hattie by touching her head and shoulders with his whip.

"Uncle Grey, I think the bays are the handsomest."

"Which proves you utterly incapable of judging horseflesh; for these are the finest horses in the city. I presume this is Miss Earl, though n.o.body seems polite enough to introduce us."

He raised his hat slightly, bowed, and drove on.

"Is this the first time you have met my uncle?" asked Felix.

"Yes. Does he live in the city?"

"Why! he lives with us! Haven't you seen him about the house? You must have heard him romping around with Hattie; for they make noise enough to call in the police. I think my uncle Grey is the handsomest man I ever saw, except Edwin Booth, when he plays 'Hamlet.' What do you say?"

"As I had barely a glimpse of your uncle, I formed no opinion.

Felix, b.u.t.ton your coat and draw your shawl over your shoulders; it is getting cold."

When they reached home the children begged for some music, and placing her hat on a chair, Edna sat down before the piano, and played and sang; while Felix stood leaning on his crutches, gazing earnestly into the face of his teacher.

The song was Longfellow's "Rainy Day," and when she concluded it, the cripple laid his thin hand on hers and said:

"Sing the last verse again. I feel as if I should always be a good boy, if you would only sing that for me every day. 'Into each life some rain must fall?' Yes, lameness fell into mine."

While she complied with his request, Edna watched his sallow face, and saw tears gather in the large, sad eyes, and she felt that henceforth the boy's evil spirit could be exorcised.

"Miss Earl, we never had a governess at all like you. They were old, and cross, and ugly, and didn't love to play chess, and could not sing, and I hated them! But I do like you, and I will try to be good."

He rested his head against her arm, and she turned and kissed his pale, broad forehead.

"Halloo, Felix! flirting with your governess? This is a new phase of school life. You ought to feel quite honored, Miss Earl, though upon my word I am sorry for you. The excessive amiability of my nephew has driven not less than six of your predecessors in confusion from the field, leaving him victorious. I warn you he is an incipient Turenne, and the schoolroom is the Franche Comte of his campaigns."

Mr. Chilton came up to the piano, and curiously scanned Edna's face; but taking her hat and veil, she rose and moved toward the door, saying:

"I am disposed to believe that he has been quite as much sinned against as sinning. Come, children, it is time for your tea."

From that hour her influence over the boy strengthened so rapidly that before she had been a month in the house he yielded implicit obedience to her wishes, and could not bear for her to leave him, even for a moment. When more than usually fretful, and inclined to tyrannize over Hattie, or speak disrespectfully to his mother, a warning glance or word from Edna, or the soft touch of her hand, would suffice to restrain the threatened outbreak.

Her days were pa.s.sed in teaching, reading aloud, and talking to the children; and when released from her duties she went invariably to her desk, devoting more than half the night to the completion of her MS.

As she took her meals with her pupils, she rarely saw the other members of the household, and though Mr. Chilton now and then sauntered into the schoolroom and frolicked with Hattie, his visits were coldly received by the teacher; who met his attempts at conversation with very discouraging monosyllabic replies.

His manner led her to suspect that the good-looking lounger was as vain and heartless as he was frivolous, and she felt no inclination to listen to his trifling, sans souci chatter; consequently, when he thrust himself into her presence, she either picked up a book or left him to be entertained by the children.

One evening in November she sat in her own room preparing to write, and pondering the probable fate of a sketch which she had finished and dispatched two days before to the office of the magazine.