One morning he rushed into the room with a willow branch in his hand, which he told her had arrived that instant from Germany for her special wearing.

Lucy, as we have seen, was remarkably fond of her younger brother, and at that moment his wanton and thoughtless unkindness seemed more keenly injurious than even the studied insults of her elder brother.

Her grief, however, had no shade of resentment; she folded her arms about the boy's neck, and saying faintly, "Poor Henry! you speak but what they tell you" she burst into a flood of unrestrained tears.

The boy was moved, notwithstanding the thoughtlessness of his age and character.

"The devil take me," said he, "Lucy, if I fetch you any more of these tormenting messages again; for I like you better," said he, kissing away the tears, "than the whole pack of them; and you shall have my grey pony to ride on, and you shall canter him if you like--ay, and ride beyond the village, too, if you have a mind." "Who told you," said Lucy, "that I am not permitted to ride where I please ?" "That's a secret," said the boy; "but you will find you can never ride beyond the village but your horse will cast a she, or fall lame, or the cattle bell will ring, or something will happen to bring you back.