"A gentle heritage is mine,
A life of quiet pleasure;
My heaviest cares are but to twine
Fresh votive garlands for the shrine
Where 'bides my bosom's treasure.
I am not merry, nor yet sad,
My thoughts are more serene than glad."
It was a lovely spot, that peaceful vicarage. Tall elms shaded the sloping roof, and roses and jessamines poured their rich perfume on the morning and evening air. Here two years of calm, tranquil enjoyment glided over Annie Evalyn, as she, with unremitting assiduity, pursued the path of science under the guidance of the good parson. Each day fresh joys were opening before her, in the forms of newly-discovered truths. Her faculties developed so rapidly as to astonish her tutor, wise as he was in experience, and well-taught in ancient and modern lore.
"Annie," said he, one evening, as they sat together in the family parlor, "what do you intend to do with all this store of knowledge you are treasuring up with such eager application?"
She looked up quickly in his face, and a flush for a moment passed over her usually pale features.