SLOWLY and heavily, for Caroline Cecil, passed the remainder of the month of January. February was cold and stormy, and the prolonged winter hovered over them with even a more gloomy aspect than it had worn in the frosts of his mid career. The snow-drop,24 however, faintly peeped forth amidst the tempest, and some other wintry flowers announced the return of spring. The first that reared its tender head above the fallen leaves and dead grass, in a corner of their little shrubbery, gave inexpressible pleasure to Henrietta, who every morning passed that way to feed some favourite poultry, lodged in an adjoining out-house. She came in with that simple innocent joy, so pleasing in early youth to every one, but so particularly interesting to a mother.