Frederick Gower and Grahame Elliott-see what a pattern of a wife I am-had procured him this situation before, and now persuaded him to live in Florence rather than die in Greece; furthermore, he furnished him with all proper recommendations, and a letter to me as long as one from a Miss in her teens describing her first sensation, with an account of his virtues, his heroism, and his misfortunes; his knowing you, and some other matters, and imploring my royal favour. I knew him in an instant from your description. It was a perfect picture, except that the black patch is gone, and that he looks more stately and melancholy. To be sure, he does wear hideous wigs! I have been trying to persuade Gower to speak to him, but he declines: so I suppose I must do it myself, or I think I shall order one to my fancy, and take away his old one. I verily believe, like Dominie Sampson,

he would never remark the change, so little does he think about personals at present. There is something in your favourite Shakspeare about "love, which makes a sloven of a *man," is there not ? You know I never remember any nonsense but my own. Truly, the creature would not be so ugly, if he were not so thin and white and sad, and did not wear such villainous perruque; at least so says my little Helen, who throws her arms round his neck, and then looks up in his face, and whispers, 'Do you love Helen? Why, the man blushes like a girl; and even the child is satisfied of his love for Helen, whilst I laugh behind a screen. He is not aware I know as much as I do, and how I wish you could see his face, when he speaks of you; and listen to his sighs, when he thinks no one hears him. The first is like Venice illuminated, and the second like the melancholy hush of the destroying storm. My woman's heart is quite won over. To let you into a little secret, though, the mother's heart was won first. Some horrid wild horses might have run over my lovely little Helen-your image, I flatter myself—if he had not carried her off. He seems to me to do nothing but save people. If all his gallant deeds were recorded in a novel now, I would wager my wisdom the critics would say it was not natural; but, fortunately for you, no needy authoress knows your tale. He is at present staying with us, but leaves us in a few days, which, perhaps, is as well, for I accuse Gower of being jealous. To be sure he denies it, and declares he likes him as well as I do; but then, you know men will deny anything. Besides, he sees nothing, but absolutely asked me Why Elliot looked so miserable?' Such

a look of scorn I bestowed on his dulness and then, in his kindness, he introduces him to all the handsomest signoras. But never fear! blue eyes against black for once. We had a superb scene yesterday. Some one defended a man of base birth, for winning by stratagem the lady of his love. Such a burst of indignant eloquence! such flashing of eyes; such curling of nostrils; it was really awful-quite sublime! He said-but I should spoil it all. Sufficient, the whole room was in amaze, and the defender of the stratagem absolutely aghast. 'What would you have him do, then?' he stammered out at last. 'Live for her, die for her, but never seek to win her. Real love would never strive to connect its object with one on whom the breath of shame had passed.' Helen, you are no woman if you can withstand that. Now the moral of my tale is:-Come over to me. The winter is cold and dull in your foggy England; and I will promise you blue skies and warm hearts, with pictures and palaces, and a thousand splendid things besides. You have half promised me a visit for a long time; so come, and let me nurse you into health. I really want you to see what a good and a happy wife I am, and to listen to a mother's praises of her children. If you fancy my letter savours little of the wisdom of a matron, the more reason you should come and reprove me in person; and if you think I have said serious things in a light way, it was because I knew there was serious matter enough in them without the weight of my gravity. This is a thing in which you must judge for yourself; all I entreat is, that you will not throw away your happiness for an idle punctilio; and that you will be as candid as of old. Though a wife and a mother, I am still a friend and despite hints and advice, do not see why I am to give up the companions of my childhood, tell all their affairs to my husband, or bore them with nursery details.

"Never you marry, Helen. Here is Gower scolding me for writing such a letter, which he persists in it must be full of scandal or abuse of him. How conscience doth make cowards of us all! He declares my packet is already too large for the post; but I have a friend at court, and know this will reach you through an official channel, should it grow to twice the size.

"Really, my dear, I am horridly jealous! I condescended to tell my domestic tyrant that I had pressed you to come and see me, and he absolutely insists on my saying he will meet you in Paris, and conduct you hither. There is a hus

band for you! I will let him have his own way for a month, if I can be so self-denying.I am writing to Miss St. Maur, Mr. Elliott, have you any message?'The man turned away with such a look of agony, that I repented my mischief. He then said in a low voice, 'No, I thank you; Miss St. Maur knows she has my warmest prayers for her happiness, and I may not ask to live in her memory.'

"You will never get well in England, I am sure. So come, come, come! So say two, and thinks one; or would if he knew, which he does not, lest he should fancy he ought to run away. With all due remembrances, Adieu, dearest Helen, Your own

HARRIET GOWER. "Now for a woman's postscript, Some one has presented Elliott with ten thousand pounds, without a clue to the donor. The dolt has not an idea! He an attaché, here or elsewhere! I can guess; can you? Shall I give him a hint? There is no romance like real life."

"The families seem deserting the county strangely," remarked Mrs. Carleton, in her usual grand style, to some morning visitors. "I understand the Marstons go to Brighton to-morrow, because my lady fancies the sea air will restore herself and daughter; and my lord wishes to be near the Court. I am sure it is no wonder Lady Catharine should be ill; she has scarcely left the sofa for weeks, except to go to Hurlestone. If people moved about more in the house, and looked into requisite improvements, I say they would have no occasion to visit watering places. Then there is Miss St. Maur, she is going to Florence."

"Going to Florence? Impossible!" exclaimed Mr. De Roos, with an abruptness and harshness, at variance with his usual suavity.

"Impossible or not, Mr. De Roos, I say it is so. I had it from herself yesterday."

"I beg your pardon. I meant to express surprise, not doubt; of course you are correct. Is it on account of her health?"

"So she says; and to fulfil a promise to an old friend; but I say she has looked much better for some days."

"No great loss in either," remarked Miss Carleton; "we

can do very well without them;" and she glanced towards De Roos for acquiescence.

"You cannot require either," was the answer, with a look readily interpreted into a compliment.

"I doubt if Mr. De Roos approve of Miss St. Maur's visit to Florence. I should not wonder if he persuaded her to remain here," remarked some one on his departure.

"I suspect he has not as much influence as people suppose,' said Mrs. Daniell. "I do not think she has been very cordial with him since that scene at the Mahons; and I know she was so indignant with Mrs. Jones, for speaking such falsehoods, that she has never admitted her since; and has planted trees, though at some distance, to shut out the view from her garret window. Besides, I know Mrs. Mahon does not credit the report, and Caroline is a great deal with her."

"Mrs. Mahon never allows any young man is going to be married: she wants them all for her own daughters. I understand the principal reason why the heiress quarrelled with Mr. De Roos, was because he had introduced, and got her to patronise, a natural son of somebody's-that Mr. Elliott; no one quite knows his story: though she chose to lay her anger on his presumption, and I think I have this from good authority, not many removes from the gentleman himself. She seems inclined to play the coquette to perfection; but, as he is always with her, I conclude he knows what he is about, and denies but faintly when rallied. I heard him recommend a successor to the rector of Hurlestone, who was reported to have died at Hastings; and when another afterwards did the same, she said she had decided on whom to bestow it. Take my word for it, she will not go to Florence unless he accompany her."

Mr. Elliott may have been the cause of her displeasure," persisted Mrs. Daniell, "but I doubt her having quite forgiven him; for though, as you say, he is constantly with her, it is less at Hurlestone than elsewhere, and rarely by her invitation. As to the appointment to the living, time will show,"

"I am sure Mr. De Roos would not be so much with Miss St. Maur, if she did not ask him," said Miss Carleton, with a toss of the head; "and he as much as told me so himself; but so great an heiress may do anything, it seems. Not that he is so much there as people say, for we see a great deal of him."

CHAPTER X.

The Kamsin in the desert, sweeping o'er,
And making desolate all bright before.

EVEN during Helen's illness the poor had not been forgotten, and now on the eve of her departure for a distant land, she was still more anxious that none should suffer during her absence. To prevent this, she had not only made every, requisite arrangement with her steward, as in former times, but in addition, she had begged Miss Mahon and Annie Grey to visit her schools, and some of her poor favourites occasionally. She was returning from the village, where her smiles and kindness had as ever brought content and happiness.

A slight languor alone remained to tell her of her late illness, for the spirit's strife was over and her eye was nearly as bright, and her step as buoyant as before One little week, and she should be on her road to Florence! the thought occasioned a slight tremor, but the step was decided on, and she said she could not recede. Did she wish it? She paused on her path to look around, and then, though none were by, blushed as she looked. A shadowed stream and a wooded bank were before her: she was gazing on the spot, on which she had stood the evening of her fête, and where beneath the starry sky and gentle moon, a look, a word, had revealed the secret of the heart.

The scene was changed now, for autumn was fading into winter, and a few bright dry leaves alone lingered on some of the topmost branches. She had never trod that path since -she had said to herself she never would alone--but she might look at it across the stream, and-it might be the time was not far distant when she might stand there again.

A stealthy step, and a deep breathing startled her from this lovely dream. She looked round, and saw a woman with a child beside her. Mother and infant both looked ill, but though plainly clad there was a something interesting and above the common order about them. The woman did not speak, but she gazed with an imploring and deprecating look, on our heroine.