It was the seventh of June, and one of those glorious mornings, when Nature looks lovelier than ever. The windows of the breakfast-room were thrown widely open, and never did the superb trees of Oakwood Park look richer or display a greater variety of green. The flower-garden, on part of which the breakfast-room opened, was actually dazzling with its profusion of brilliant flowers, on which the sun looked down so gloriously; a smooth lawn whose green was a perfect emerald, stretched down from the parterre, till it was lost in woody openings, which disclosed the winding river, that, lying as a lake on one side, appeared to sweep round some exquisite scenery on the opposite side, and form another lake, about a mile further. It was Emmeline's favorite view, and she always declared, that it so varied its aspects of loveliness, she was sure it never looked two mornings exactly alike, and so long would she stand and admire, that her mother often threatened to send her her breakfast in her own room, where the view, though picturesque, would not so completely turn her attention from the dull realities of life. There were some letters on the table this morning, so she had a longer time to drink in poetry than usual.
"Who can offer Ellen a more precious birthday-gift than mine?" exclaimed Mrs. Hamilton, playfully holding up a letter, as her niece entered. "I wonder if Edward remembered how near his sister was to fifteen, and so wrote on the chance of your receiving it on the day itself!"
"Why, Ellen, what a queer effect pleasure has on you! I always notice you turn quite pale whenever Edward's letters are given to you," interposed Emmeline, looking at her cousin, and laughing. "I am sure, the very hurry I am in to open Percy's and Herbert's, must give me a color, and you are as deliberate as if you did not care about it. I do wish you would not be so cold and quiet."
"One giddy brain is quite enough in a house," rejoined her father, in the same mirthful tone, and looking up from his letter he called Ellen to him, and kissed her. "I forgot the day of the month, my little girl, but I am not too late, I hope, to say, God bless you, and wish that every year may pass more happily, more usefully, and more prepared for eternity than the last!"
"I do not think you have forgotten it, my dear uncle," replied Ellen, gratefully (she had not yet opened her brother's letter); "for my aunt says, I am to thank you as well as her for this beautiful birthday gift," and she displayed an elegant little gold watch; "indeed, I do not know how to thank you for all your kindness!" she added, so earnestly that tears came to her eyes.
"I will say, as I have heard your aunt often say—by trying to be a little more lively, and unreserved, my dear Ellen; that would prove our kindness and affection made you happy, better than any thing; but I am not going to lecture you on your birthday, and with a letter from Edward in your hand," he continued, smiling. "Open it, my dear, I want to know its date; I rather think my friend Manly's must be written later."
"Nothing in it for me, Ellen?" asked her aunt. "What a lazy boy he has grown!"
"An inclosure for you, Ellen; why, that is as queer as your paleness!" said Emmeline.
"Do let your cousin's paleness alone," interposed Mrs. Hamilton, gayly. "I really can not perceive she has any less color than usual, and as for the inclosure, Edward often has something to add at the last moment, and no room to insert it, and so there is nothing remarkable in his using another half sheet."
"Emmeline always creates wonders out of shadows," said Caroline, dryly.