it, I may certainly do as I like, without feeling any wise scruples,' as you call them."

Lady Ethell was about to reply, to re-assure Emmeline, that in mentioning the words "wise scruples," it was by no means her intention to offend her, when the door opened and Lady Adelaide entered, followed by Allyne.

"What, still drawing, Ethell?" as she approached the easel at which her sister was seated.

"Yes, indeed, I am; and I do not know how I shall bring myself to leave off, even to ride;" and she looked at her little watch as she spoke. "One o'clock! Imagine, my dear Emmeline, who would have supposed that we have been here since eleven o'clock?-two good hours!"

Emmeline raised her eyes from her work; she was evidently thinking much more about what had passed than of Lady Ethell's last words-“ two hours!" She quickly, however, recovered herself, and replied,

"But then, Ethell, we have been talking so much, and conversation makes one forget how fast time flies." "And what have you both been so earnestly engaged in conversation about?" inquired Lady Adelaide, "that two hours should pass away so swiftly, if I may be permitted to ask?"

"Oh, about Church nonsense and Mr. Priestly, I bet you any thing you like," said Allyne. "Emmeline, I take it, has been making confessions to Ethell, and Ethell has been telling her how she

would like to know Eustace Priestly. He would just suit you, I do assure you, Ethell; and he is not married," continued Allyne.

"Oh, Allyne! Allyne! you are too provoking. The idea of wishing to know a person one has never seen!" returned his sister, "that is truly amusing!"

"But we did see Mr. Priestly, certainly, this morning," acknowledged Lady Adelaide, "and we both thought he looked very excellent, and—”

"You see, I said so!" laughingly exclaimed Allyne.

"But that does not prove, Master Allyne, that we were talking of him when you came in just now," said Lady Ethell, with a provoking smile; "nor does it follow, because we think a person excellent, that we wish exactly to know them. I never expressed such a wish," she added, blushing as she spoke.

"Blushes are

sometimes 'tell-tales' of our thoughts, nevertheless," returned Allyne, laughing intensely.

"Can you not, Addy, come and read to us a little, and deliver us from all Allyne's nonsense?" said Lady Ethell to her sister. "Would it not be a good thing, Emmeline?"

"Yes, indeed. What shall we read?" inquired her cousin.

"I will read," replied Emmeline, "whilst Adelaide finishes her beautiful crochet collar, about which she is, I know, most anxious. Shall we have

Miss Strickland's Lives of the Queens of England? "By all means," said both sisters; "we were so much pleased with Beatrice of Modena, James the Second's consort. Mary and Eveline were reading it in the school-room lately, and we heard bits and scraps of it only at different times."

"Well, I have only just began it," replied Emmeline, "so that is very fortunate; I will fetch it from papa's library."

"My presence is, of course, to be dispensed with ?” said Allyne.

"Unless, dear Allyne, you would read to us," said Emmeline, in a soft, persuasive tone.

"And promise not to tease us," said Lady Ethell; I will have my revenge to-night, I promise you, if you do. And, when you want a song, I will not sing," she added, with her petite air malicieuse. "Well, I will not persecute you any more, for I could not do without my songs for all the Eustace Priestlys in the world; and I will still further oblige you by reading to you, for it is much too warm to go out. So, then, where is the book?"

"I will go and get it for you, dear Allyne," said his sister. And she rose to fetch it; but her brother was gone ere she could reach the door, whistling, as he went, his cousin's last German song, of which he was so fond-Fröhlich und Wohlgemuth.

.

"I wish Forster was half so good-natured as Allyne," said Lady Adelaide, alluding to her only brother, Lord Forster, who had just entered the

Guards; "he never spares us one half-hour of his time, much less read to us."

Allyne now returned, with the book in hand, fully justifying his cousin's opinion that he was the most good-natured boy in the world, by reading to them till luncheon was ready, when the merry group dispersed to join their mother and uncle in the dining-room.

CHAPTER IX.

"There is a reaper whose name is Death,
And with his sickle keen

He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,

And the flowers that grow between."

LADY HETHERINGTON had changed her intention of going, as she had proposed, that day to Summerfield, declaring that it was too warm to do anything. She would go to-morrow, and take her daughters with her; it was quite right that they should see their aunt and cousins. But the truth was, this visit was distasteful to her; and as she reclined some two hours later on the sofa, in her beautiful dressing-room at Everton, with its open window, commanding one of the most splendid views of the surrounding country, Lady Hetherington could not but admit to herself that her brother's wife had never been congenial to her; the religious views she entertained, or, in other words, her piety, being the real cause. Lady Hetherington had married before her brother Arthur, several years. In her girlish days Horatia Vivian had been his darling sister; and during his college vacations, when studying at Cambridge, they were inseparable. Whilst studying, he steadily bore in view that his first great object was