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CHAPTER XIII.
"The tears of youth dry as quickly as the dews in summer; and the young heart rebounds from grief as quickly as the arrow from the bow."
The Buccaneer.
Time passed as time ever does when passed monotonously, that is, with a degree of rapidity which only astonishes us when it is recalled to mind by some chance circumstance. Time should he reckoned by events, not hours; the heart is its truest time-piece, at least as concerns ourselves. Spring came and found Francesca's situation unchanged. Lord Avonleigh had been still retained a prisoner in the Tower; Robert Evelyn was still in Ireland; and hope, somewhat wearied by feeding but "on its own sweet life," had taken a deeper tone of anxiety. Lucy's marriage was only waiting till the repairs were finished at the vicarage; and preparations occupied all her thoughts, and most of her time. But a great change was at hand. It would seem as if calm were necessary
