It is the women of a family that give the tone and place to it.  One glance at his aunt and cousins satisfied Julius.  Mrs. Sandal was stately and comely, and had the quiet manners of a high-bred woman.  Sophia, in white mull, with a large hat covered with white drooping feathers, and a glimmer of gold at her throat and wrists, was at least picturesque.  Of Charlotte, he saw nothing in the first moments of their meeting but a pair of bright blue eyes, and a face as sweet and fresh as if it had been made out of a rose.  He took his place between the girls, and the squire and his wife walked behind them.  Sophia, being the eldest, took the initiative, talking softly and thoughtfully, as it was proper to do upon a Sunday morning.

The sods under their feet were thick and green; the oaks and sycamores above them had the broad shadows of many centuries.  The air was balmy with emanations from the woods and fields, and full of the expanding melody of church-bells travelling from hill to hill.  Julius was conscious of every thing; even of the proud, shy girl who walked on his left hand, and whose attitude impressed him as slightly antagonistic.  They soon reached the church, a very ancient one, built in the bloody days of the Plantagenets by the two knights whose grim effigies kept guard within the porch.  It was dim and still when they entered:  the congregation all kneeling at the solemn confession; the clergyman’s voice, low and pathetic, intensifying silence to which it only added mortal minors of lament and entreaty.  He was a small, spare man, with a face almost as white as the vesture of his holy office.  Julius glanced up at him, and for a few minutes forgot all his dreamy philosophies, aggressive free thought, and shallow infidelities.  He could not resist the influences around him; and when the people rose, and the organ filled the silence with melody, and a young sweet voice chanted joyfully,—­

    "O come let us sing unto the Lord:  let us heartily rejoice
       in the strength of our salvation. 
    Let us come before His presence with thanksgiving: 
       and shew ourselves glad in him with Psalms,”—­

he turned round, and looked up to the singer, with a heart beating to every triumphant note.  Then he saw it was Charlotte Sandal; and he did not wonder at the hearty way in which the squire joined in the melodious invocation, nor at his happy face, nor at his shining eyes; and he said to himself with a sigh, “That is a Psalm one could sing oftener than once in seven days.”

He had not noticed Charlotte much as they went to church:  he amended his error as he returned to the “seat.”  And he thought that the old sylvan goddesses must have been as she was; must have had just the same fresh faces, and bright brown hair; just the same tall, erect forms and light steps; just the same garments of mingled wood-colors and pale green.

The squire had a very complacent feeling.  He looked upon Julius as a nephew of his own discovering, and he felt something of a personal pride in all that was excellent in the young man.  He watched impatiently for his wife to express her satisfaction, but Mrs. Sandal was not yet sure that she had any good reason to express it.