The cover image was restored by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
Averil.
By ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY.
CHAPTER I.
A WET DAY IN LINCOLN'S INN.
Mr. Harland was one of those enviablepersons who invariably take a cheerful viewof everything; in the favorite parlance of theday, he was an optimist. A good digestion,an easy-going temperament, and a consciousvoid of offense toward his fellow-creatures,all contributed to furnish him with a fineflow of spirits. In this way he was a philosopher,and would discourse for a good halfhour at a time on the folly of a man whopermitted himself to be disturbed by any atmosphericchanges; he thought it derogatoryto the dignity of a human being to be depressedby a trifle more or less of fog. Noman delighted more than he did in the sunshine—aspring day moved him to exuberantanimation; but, on the other hand, no pressureof London smoke, no damp, clingingfog, no scarifying east wind, no wearisomesuccession of wet days, ever evoked an impatientexpression or brought him down tothe dull level on which other people findthemselves.
This made him a delightful companion,and when Mrs. Harland (who certainlymatched her husband in good humor) onceaverred herself a fortunate woman, none ofher friends contradicted her.
Mr. Harland had just reached his chambersin Lincoln's Inn one morning, and as hedivested himself of his wet overcoat hehummed a little air in an undertone.
The surroundings would have lookeddreary enough to any other person. It wasdifficult to recognize that May had actuallyarrived; the air had a February chill in it;and the heavy, leaden sky and ceaselessdownpour of steady rain made the few passers-byshiver; now and then a lawyer's clerkhurried along, uttering a sort of dumb protestin his raised shoulders and turned-upcollar. In that quiet spot the drip of thewater from the roofs was distinctly audible,alternating with the splash of the rain onthe stone flags of the court. Mr. Harlandglanced at the letters lying on his table, thenhe walked up to the fire-place, and spreadhis white, well-shaped hands over the cheerfulblaze.
"My housekeeper is a jewel!" he muttered."She is worth her weight in gold, thatwoman; she seems to know by instinct whento light a fire. Bless me, how it is raining!Well, people tell me I am an oddly constitutedperson, but I believe in my heart thatI thoroughly enjoy a wet day; one is sure ofa quiet morning; no fussy clients, to boreone and take up one's valuable time; notthat I object to clients," with a chuckle."Halloo! come in!" as a modest rap soundedat the door. "Well, Carruthers, what isit? No one can be possibly wanting me thismorning," as a solemn-faced young manstood hesitating on the threshold.
"The young lady said she was in no hurry,sir; would not disturb you for the world. Itis Miss Willmot."
"Miss Willmot!" and Mr. Harland droppedhis eye-glasses, and then picked them upin a hurry. "Show her in, show her in atonce, Carruthers; and mind, I am engaged;I am not to be interrupted on any account.To think of that delicate little creature venturingout on such a day! What do youmean by it, what do you mean by it, MissAveril?" advan