Mrs Herbert left the room; and Amy, obeying her directions, seated herself with her back to the window, making a firm resolution in her own mind that she would not look up from her book till her lessons were ready; and when her mother reappeared, they were repeated without a fault. Mrs Herbert's smile sufficiently repaid her for the exertion, and with renewed pleasure she continued her usual morning occupations.
"And now, mamma," she exclaimed, as she finished her reading, "I may think about Emmerton. Will you tell me if you are really going there this afternoon?"
"We will set off immediately after dinner," replied Mrs Herbert; "and as I cannot walk so far, I have sent to the parsonage to borrow Mr Walton's carriage."
"Shall you stay all the afternoon, mamma? and will you let me hear all you say to Mrs Bridget and Stephen?"
"I am afraid that will not interest you much, my dear," replied Mrs Herbert, smiling; "but you deserve to have your wishes granted, to reward you for your endeavours this morning. Was I not right in saying that you would be far happier if you attended to your lessons first, and thought of your amusements afterwards?"
"Ah! mamma," said Amy, "you know you are always right, and I am always wrong; but then it does not signify so much while you are with me to teach me."
Mrs Herbert sighed. "You must not look to me, my dear child: I cannot keep you right. It is God alone who can do that, and He only knows how long I may live to tell you what you ought to do. But do not look so grave now, I did not mean to make you unhappy. You must get your bonnet and take one turn with me in the shady walk, and by that time dinner will be ready."
CHAPTER II.
That afternoon was one of perfect enjoyment to Amy. The drive in the rector's carriage was an unusual treat, and the road through the forest had never before seemed so beautiful; the light danced amongst the trees, and sparkled on the gay primroses and harebells, and the deep blue violets, which peeped from amongst the thick underwood. The rich moss which covered the trunks of the old oak trees, was of a hue so bright as to be surpassed only by the vivid green of the young leaves, which had reached their full beauty, undimmed as yet by the scorching rays of the summer's sun; and when at length they reached the park gate of Emmerton, and drove under the long rows of oak and chestnuts, and by the side of the clear silver lake, Amy's delight was unbounded. Several months had passed since she had last been there, and the beauty of the place was now increased by the thought that she should soon be able to visit it constantly, and might, perhaps, at times, spend days, and even weeks there with her cousins.
"Dear, dear mamma!" she exclaimed, as she jumped up in the carriage to look at the lake, "do you think my uncle can be unhappy while he is here?"