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"I have a charge," replied my guardian, "a precious charge, which, for a short period, I would willingly consign to the protection of my worthy friends, because there is none in whom I have equal confidence."
As he ceased speaking, we entered, conducted by our host, a small parlour, in the simple furniture of which, and ornamental drawings uniformly arranged against an oaken wainscot, an air of taste was manifest. Mrs. Neville, the wife of the curate, was seated near a casement, shaded, on the outside, by the luxuriant foliage of a spreading vine, through which the twilight dimly gleamed. Two children, blooming as cherubs, played at her feet: she held a
