very glad to be amongst you all again. Is there any body else here? Where is Simpson?"

"He is just outside, Sir Philip. With your leave, the yeomanry cavalry and the tenants are all out at the cross-roads to meet you; shall I lead the way to the carriage, my lady? James and Robert will look after the luggage; I suppose Mr. Godfrey knows where it is." And Philip, with Ethel on his arm, walked out to the other side of the station, followed by Valerie, bearing endless cloaks and shawls. A crowd of people gathered round the carriage-door, to see the young wife Sir Philip had brought home; but Ethelind thought only of their pleasure in again welcoming the possessor of Redenham to his home. It was some little time before they could start. Valerie had to be stowed away safely in the rumble, by the side of Godfrey, while Stephens and James mounted the coach-box. Robert was left to follow with the luggage in the Redenham break.

It was fully two miles to the first lodge, and here a large cavalcade awaited them,-mounted horsemen in cavalry uniform, with banners flying, bands playing; and hundreds of people of all ages and sexes striving eagerly to keep pace with the carriage, by taking short cuts across the park, and round by the glassy mere. Philip bowed, and Ethelind bowed, and laughed, and smiled, as she watched them all, as much amused as if she had merely been a spectator amongst them. As they wound up the broad drive and came out on the summit of the gentle eminence, with the noble front of Redenham full before them, all Ethelind's fears came over her again in their fullest force. "Oh, Philip!" she exclaimed in a low suppressed voice, "what a magnificent home you have brought me to! I never dreamt it was half so noble a place as this." Her husband caught the expression of her face,-there was surprise more than pleasure in it, without doubt.

"Do you not like it, Ethie? Is it not what you expected?" he asked anxiously.

"It is too grand, too magnificent," she murmured. "I had not thought of it as half so large. But it is very beautiful!" And she drew a long breath to recover herself; and before Philip could attempt to reassure her, the horses had struck into a quick sharp trot, up the steepest part of the road, and then drew up with a proper demonstration in the courtyard.

Philip sprung lightly out, and then assisting Ethel to alight, and leading her up the flight of steps to the entrance, drew her arm within his; and turning round and taking off his hat, he stood for some minutes facing the throng of people who had gathered close up round them. Three hearty cheers rung out for "Sir Philip and Lady Leigh." Ethel's arm trembled as it rested on her husband's; but except for the shade of heightened colour on his cheek, and the glitter in his eye, you would not have known how moved the strong man really felt at the scene before him.

"My friends," he said, and his voice rung out sharp and clear, so that every one could distinctly hear him, "I sincerely thank you for the warm and hearty welcome you have given us to-day-a welcome as unexpected as it is gratifying to my feelings to witness. As yet, I owe it entirely to your own kind hearts, and the love you bore those who preceded me. The time will come, I trust, when we may have some better claim upon you for our own sakes as well as theirs. It will be Lady Leigh's endeavour, as I am sure it will be mine, to deserve the honour you have done us to-day, and to endeavour to bind closer, by sympathy and mutual help, the bond which should ever unite the interest of proprietor and tenant. Again, in Lady Leigh's name, I must thank you specially for your welcome, and we hope you will go round to the north entrance, where a barrel of Redenham home-brewed and a cold dinner is already prepared, Simpson tells me, for those who would like to partake of it after their exertions."

Again cheers, long and loud, rung out for Sir Philip and his lady; and then, still clinging to his arm, Ethelind followed her husband into the hall. A long file of servants were drawn up to receive their new mistress, headed by a large red-faced imposing personage, dressed out in a bright-green silk dress, with black lace cap and flaunty yellow ribbons. Stephens and Godfrey were there also; but most of the men had disappeared to the other side of the house, where their services were required to serve out the hospitalities of Redenham to the crowd.

"The dinner, my lady, is ordered for half-past seven o'clock," the yellow ribbons murmured, in a soft oily voice; "will it please your ladyship to say if that hour is agreeable?"

Ethel glanced towards her husband appealingly. "Yes, that will do; but serve it in the library to-night, remember: Lady Leigh is tired with her journey, and the room is warmer and smaller than the others." And Sir Philip looked sharply at the smooth red face, and its endless bends and becks, though he made no remarks. "Come, Ethel," he said, "there is an hour to dinner yet: let us go and explore some of the rooms of this great place which seems to have frightened you so much. I will take you to your own room first-I want to see what that fellow Snell has made of it all, for I have trusted entirely to his judgment and taste in their arrangement. They ascended the broad oak staircase, which opened on a long corridor running round three sides of the house, lighted by large oriel windows, with magnificent views over the park and of the country round. It was carpeted with dark red cloth, throwing out boldly the noble groups of statuary standing between the windows and the paintings, which hung on the walls between the doors. Tables and chairs and ottomans were standing about in the deep recesses of the windows, inviting you to lounge about in the bright sunshine, enjoying the extensive views, or to take exercise in that warm promenade on a wet day. Ethelind's suite of rooms,-bedroom, dressing-room, boudoir, morningroom, &c., all opened into each other, with a pretty conservatory, with a

flight of marble steps leading down into a larger one on the terrace, which connected her room with the drawing-rooms below; so that from within or without she had free access to her own private apartments.

Nothing had been spared to make it the perfection of luxurious comfort and elegance. The only doubt which at all troubled her was a feeling that it was too luxurious, too artificial for her ever to feel at home in it. She almost longed to see some old easy chair, or well-worn sofa, on which she could have thrown herself while she took a survey of her possessions, and learnt to adapt herself to her new life. Alas, poor Ethie! She was but a child still, and had yet to learn how very soon the soft luxuries of life steal upon you one by one, and so become insensibly the very necessities of the rich. Valerie was already taking possession of wardrobes and toilet-tables; and as she shook out the soft folds of her mistress's pink barège dress, and brushed out and braided her bright glossy hair, she could not resist pouring out in eloquent strains her admiration of the splendid château which owned Sir Philip as master. Valerie's English mother had taught the girl enough of her own language to make her child sufficiently familiar with it as to add very considerably to her comfort now that she was thrown entirely amongst English servants in a strange place and a large house. Valerie could already have told of the admiration excited by her mistress in the servants' hall; of the wonder created by her extreme youthfulness and beauty. "Such a sweet face!—and for all the world like a young child rather than a woman!” "More by half like Sir Philip's daughter than his wife," seemed the general opinion; while the sleek, meek, red-faced yellow-ribbons exclaimed inwardly, "Goodness me! well enough Mrs. Leigh should say our new lady was no better than a child! See if I don't get the upper hand of every thing in this place in a twinkling! Sir Philip's got a sharpish look with him the Leigh eye, I s'pose 'tis that they tells me sees every thing; 'twill be sharper than I takes it for if it sees through me,-that's all. It takes something to beat me when I sets my heart on any thing. At all events, 'tis worth a trial."

With her cashmere wrapped carefully round her shoulders, Ethel wandered with Philip over the house; looked at some of the old paintings; admired the widespread views from the windows; crossed the magnificent hall with its lantern dome of coloured glass; the steel armour which glanced bright on the walls reflecting back the flames from the burning logs in the quaint fireplaces on each side the staircase; its leopard-skin rugs, and the silken banners still floating round the tall clustering pillars of polished marble which supported the groined roof; and then finished off by passing the evening together in the wainscoted library, just as they did abroad, in the full enjoyment of each other's society, uninterrupted by any thing which could throw a shadow over Ethelind's intense happiness.

Ethel often recurred in thought to that first evening spent at Redenham, which, like a sun-picture, remained so indelibly traced on her

VOL. II.

F

memory, that neither happiness nor sorrow in after-years could ever succeed in effacing it. But the realities of life were beginning. Youth and its bright visions were passing away, and Ethel Leigh learnt on the morrow that she must gird up her loins for the battle, for that womanhood had assuredly come, with its trials and struggles,—as come it must to us all,—and her time to take a part in the combat had now arrived.

CHAPTER XV.

ETHELIND sat for more than an hour over her twice-replenished tea-pot, patiently waiting for Philip to join her at the breakfast-table. When he came in at last, he brought heaps of letters and papers, which he sat reading and poring over as he sipped his tea. The steward from Leigh had been with him. News had come down by the night-train of the Ministry having been defeated on some important question, and their expected resignation the following day. Mr. Jones, a shrewd, active lawyer and a great politician, hoped Sir Philip would bestir himself in politics again, as he used to do; so he had posted over to Redenham by daybreak, to consult as to the course he should take if any stir in the country ensued.

"And you, Ethel, must fill the house," he said; "on Monday you will have callers from all the neighbourhood. I will give you a list, by and by, of those I wish you to be most civil to. We will fill the house,

if we can, at once."

"Fill the house, Philip? What can you mean?" Ethel replied with a bewildered look, as visions of all those numberless rooms flashed across her.

"Why, get some of the people in the neighbourhood to come and see us-give a sort of house-warming-make Redenham what it used to be years ago."

"But not directly, Philip; I know nobody yet. What should I do with strangers here?" And she looked up with a distressed face to her husband.

"If that is all you fear, we will soon remedy that evil. I will send for Diana or Barbara; they know every one, and will soon introduce you, and take the burden of entertaining your guests off your hands. I should have proposed bringing one of them, only I did not fancy you quite contrived to hit it with the girls. You always seem afraid of Barbara's nonsense; and Di, I know, seems cold to those who don't know her. Still, for all that, I will write to-day, and tell them both to come to us on Monday."

"Oh, if

you please, Philip, do no such thing," Ethelind replied. "I dare say I can manage; at all events, I will try, if you will only tell me when I do wrong."

Philip laughed: "Well," he said, "you must remember and keep that

horrid woman my mother has sent down as housekeeper in her right place; I don't like the look of her. No such finery as hers ever used to see daylight in Redenham in old times; and her smooth oily tones don't please me, any more than the horrid dinner she favoured us with last night. Perhaps one has been spoiled lately by French cookery; but pray, do see, Ethel, that out of the loads of dishes she favours us with there is something eatable to-night. After luncheon, I have ordered Robert to bring round your pony-carriage; I will give you your first lesson in driving."

Presently the housekeeper herself appeared, and Ethelind, entirely ignorant as she was of housekeepers and housekeeping, was soon fairly beaten by the plausible speeches and the smooth tongue of the wily woman. “Oh, I know so exactly what you would like, my lady!—I who had, you know, all the responsibility on my own shoulders of the Marquis of Liddington's family; and such a splendid place as it was, and always so full of company! And as to the Marchioness,-I don't know whether you are acquainted with her, my lady,-such a kind, affable lady, and so pleasant in her ways to every body. Now, Blake,' says she, 'we shall want the best dinner you can send up for thirty;' or it might be a hunt-breakfast, you know, or a ball-supper, or any thing of that sort; and the house, maybe, crammed full of people from top to toe. 'Well, Blake,' says she, 'I shall leave it all quite contented like in your hands, because I am sure you will manage it all better than I can, and make it go off a great deal better than if I interfered.' So you see, my lady, I shall be quite at home, and I hope you will be also."

Poor Ethelind felt at that moment any thing but at home in her new duties, but she would make an effort for Philip's sake. "The dinner yesterday was not quite what Sir Philip liked," she ventured to say, with a rising colour which she tried hard to keep back; "could you send us up one or two nice little French dishes?"—and she ran over the names of those she remembered to have heard him particularly recommend,"and let every thing be very hot, if you please, and not quite so many dishes on the table. We are alone to-night, and Sir Philip is extremely particular."

6

"So Mrs. Leigh pleased to inform me, my lady; indeed, it was on that account she was pleased to select me. The high recommendations, you see, my lady, that I brought from the Marchioness. Such a treasure as you are, Mrs. Blake,' as she was good enough to say over and over again, 'how shall I ever get on without you?' Poor Mrs. Leigh, the tears were in her eyes as she hired me: 'So beautiful and young as my daughter-in-law is,' she said, 'how can she know any thing of housekeeping, Mrs. Blake? So on you I shall entirely depend.' 'And you may rest assured, Mrs. Leigh,' says I, 'that I will do my very utmost to serve her ladyship and Sir Philip.'" The oily-tongued, red-faced Mrs. Blake forgot to add how rejoiced the Marchioness of Liddington had felt in having, by her absence from home, when Mrs. Leigh had called for a personal character of her late housekeeper, escaped the necessity of telling the