There was something so singular in the tone of Mrs. Felix Lorraine's voice, and so peculiar in the expression of her countenance, as she uttered these words, that the jest died on Vivian's tongue; and for want of something better to do, he lashed the little poneys, who were already scampering at their full speed.
The road to the Elfin's Well ran through the wildest parts of the park; and after an hour and a half's drive, they reached the fairy spot. It was a beautiful and pellucid spring, that bubbled up in a small wild dell, which, nurtured by the flowing stream, was singularly fresh and green. Above the spring, the taste of the Marquess, or the Marquess's steward, had erected a Gothic arch of grey stone, round which grew a few fine birch trees. In short. Nature had intended the spot for pic nics. There was fine water, and an interesting tradition; and as the parties always bring, or always should bring, a
