with high thoughts, love, suffer and endure as in the days when what we call romance, was but common every day life to the actors in it. Are there not even now death-struggles and the victory in our fight with the dragon, and syren voices of worldly pleasure, charming the heedless to their ruin; and do we not all linger fondly over the scene of past hopes, and wait, how many weary days to gaze upon that which may be ours no more? And you passed quickly through Paris, you say ?"

"Yes, there was no inducement to linger there amidst the display of modern luxury, after looking on the heart-stirring grandeur of that Rhine scenery, and so we soon took to the sea, and the first glimpse of our own white cliffs rather saddened me, thinking how different this return was to what I had always looked forward to in days gone by; I too could have said approaching that land,

66- Where old memories dwell

And childhood's thoughts, again to you I come
But unto me ye bear no longer mine."

"And yet how much reason, Ion, to be thankful, you who have so beautiful a home, so dear a charge in those dear boys, that little one too, so much your heart's treasure, and a friend beside, who as far as it can ever be possible, fills the place of the brother you lost. Clement Morton is a charge to you, now you will have the opportunity of immediate influence, your friendship is no chance, but an ordained event, important to you both, a very gift from heaven; GOD grant you pervert it not to evil."

"Have you seen much of him lately, Mr. Bernard ?"

"No, and he is not very communicative when we do meet, you are both very much alike in your reserve, you know."

Ion returned the priest's smile, as he said, “But I am not reserved to you, Mr. Bernard. I almost utter my thoughts, because I never doubt your sympathy, and you have known me all my life."

“Yes, Ion, ours has been a long acquaintance, I hope you may never shrink from confiding to me anything you wish. Will you come in with me, or will your sister be expecting you ?"

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'Yes, I promised to join her at dinner, so you must excuse me, I hope often to see you now; give my love to little Willie, I suppose he is much the same, I will see him the next time I come."

"There is no change for him, I fear, but that of death, but it is better thus, and he, dear little lad, will be spared many years of sin and sorrow."

But Mr. Bernard sighed gently, as after a kind farewell to Ion, he entered the Vicarage gate, for the boy was the nearest and dearest to the heart of the childless priest.

MRS. CARLETON had a dinner party, and the ladies having just retired to the drawing-room, there was that universal conversational murmur pervading the apartment, which is ever the result of an assemblage of the feminine element of society. Almost every individual of the party on the present occasion, seemed to address herself to a young lady who had not been present at the dinner table, and who was now standing by the side of Agnes Loudon, an invited guest for the evening.

"My dear Margaret," exclaimed Mrs. Carleton, "why did you not join us at dinner ?"

"I could not get here in time; we came up by express, it is true, but Aunt Dudley fancied she could not rise in time for the early train. Ion is here, I hope ?"

66

Yes, he was disappointed at your absence. But I am afraid, my dear Margaret, you found it very dull, while we were at dinner."

“Not at all, I found some ladies to entertain.” "Entertain, my dear Margaret !" exclaimed Georgie, "as if you ever tried to entertain any one. Well, I am glad you are come, we want somebody sensible to talk to Ion."

"Is that a compliment? Do you think Ion altered since you last saw him ?"

"Yes, and no; he always was so splendid looking, but he's different too, and I think for the better; he's got a sadder look, and is very much kinder in his manner, more gentle than he used to be; he used to cut up everybody furiously at one time."

"I suppose I should scarcely know him by instinctive perception, and I dare say I shall not see him properly for some time."

6

"Oh that's the worst, you never see any one, but you need not mind staring at your brother, or saying to him, as I advise you to do before accepting an offer, May I trouble you to wait a little, until I have put on my glasses.' He's unmistakeable, though golden-haired and pale; and he has those wonderful blue eyes, or rather grey, with dark lashes, and such hands, it makes me feel ashamed to put mine near them. I'll perform the introduction directly he comes in, and you will be very good friends, for I have told him all about you."

"Then I am sure he must be well-informed."

"Don't be satirical; here he is. I don't understand etiquette, but Margaret, this gentleman is Ion; and Ion, this lady is Margaret, your sister."

Ion expressed his pleasure at the meeting in a more cordial tone than he usually employed; and then taking a seat beside her, he made a few inquiries about the spot she had been visiting, all the while studying attentively her face and manner. She was an intellectual looking girl of two-andtwenty, with thoughtful dark eyes, pale complexion, and an expression rather haughty and decided. Her manner was perfectly self-possessed, but calm and cold, quite as indifferent as Ion's in his most perverse moods. His examination however was a brief one, for Sydney approached to lead her to the piano,

and Ion followed in that direction; while Margaret, seating herself at the instrument, leisurely drew off her gloves, put on her glasses, for she was very nearsighted, with unalterable calmness, as though she had been alone, instead of being in the midst of an expectant audience, and commenced playing one of Mendelssohn's exquisite "Lieder ohne Worte." Truly a "song without words"- -a wordless melody, as though upspringing from some human heart; and Margaret woke the mystic tones with a true artist feeling.

"Oh, Margaret, what a doleful ditty," exclaimed the unimpressed Sydney, " do play something more lively."

"Could you favour us with a polka ?" suggested Ion bending down to speak to her, with his eyes lighted by a mischief-loving gleam.

"I really cannot; some one will, no doubt, kindly take my place."

"Now, Ion, did I not tell you you would like her playing?" exclaimed Georgie triumphantly. "And do you think you were correct in your judgment ?"

"Of course I do, because she plays those sort of things nobody likes."

"Thank you for the implied compliment; then I am nobody," he answered with an amused look towards Margaret, who had overheard Georgie's last remark.

"Well, I confess, I am unamiable enough to play more for my own amusement than that of others."

"Say rather for the sake of music itself; all true lovers of it must choose the true before the false, and not sacrifice truth to popularity."

"I think good things never are popular," said Margaret thoughtfully.

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Seldom, but oftener from the want of under