before the pure light which shone clearly on his young mind.

Lady Lisle had entered the library for the first time since her widowhood.

She had just parted from Annie Mowbray, and had set before herself a task which required much energy to fulfil. She was in the room in which some of the happiest hours of her married life had been spent. It contained various treasured remembrances, gifts from Sir Harry.

His portrait! She gazed upon it while the children stood on either side of her.

"Poor papa!" said Alice's little voice, as she softly stroked down her mother's mourning dress, and mechanically repeated the words, while she pointed to the picture.

Ormond appeared to understand feelings in which he could even in a great degree participate. He grasped the hand of his benefactress, and silently and fearfully watched the workings of her countenance.

They were loving, childish, and, as far as

they were able, sympathising witnesses; yet Clara longed for solitude.

She hastily took down the picture, and, with various other loved mementos, deposited it in a cabinet in her own apartment, which already contained tokens of former happy years.

She returned to the library. Already the children had dismissed the momentary shadow which her saddened expression had cast upon their usual merriment, and from henceforth she determined that no outward sign of her inward life should darken the bright atmosphere which naturally surrounds youth.

She

Her strong efforts were availing. soon learned for her own sake to prize the power of resolution.

And thus many thought, as by degrees she began again to mingle with the outward world, that time had already exercised his wonted influence, and in an unusual degree.

Her words, her looks, her actions, were the constant subject of criticism and conversation. Lord Alvanley was never tired of discussing the fruitful topic with Graham.

The groom would take up the key-note, and give a second-hand notion of his lordship's ideas to his valet, through which it became evident that Lady Lisle had lived on bad terms with the late Sir Harry, "or she would never have worn so cheerful a look so soon after his loss!"

In the village of Inspeth the one-legged Major, Colonel Harrison's oracle, and his grand-daughter's aversion, sipped his port and freely spoke his mind upon Lady Lisle's wonderful composure so speedily regained.

"And that little heiress will be well worth looking after, Colonel," continued the Major; "have you no grandson who could try his fortune later on in life?"

"Pshaw!" replied the testy old Colonel, "why, with her fine fortune and the beauty she'll possess (if it ever be inherited), she'll have all the nobles of the land at her feet. Her mother had better keep a sharp look-out. Those heiresses are ticklish creatures, and at seventeen they would as soon run away with a moustached music master, with seven children, as put on a new bonnet! Major,

who made your wooden leg? I must have one myself, if this confounded gout lasts much longer. It plagues my very life out! Ah! I have not much opinion of that fair piece of frailty called woman."

Mary Graham, as she sat in her own little boudoir, and looked out over the fine woods which bordered Hetherton, felt that she had perhaps a truer appreciation of Lady Lisle's real feelings than the unobserving, uninitiated world.

"If Arthur had only loved me as he told me he had loved Clara Lisle," thought she, "he would not have found me a nonentity. As to him, indeed I am! But she has certainly firmness, decision, which never could belong to me, and a mastery over herself, which teaches a great lesson!"

At this moment Mary Graham's thoughts took another direction, for she descried a horseman quickly approaching. In another instant the colour mounted to her cheek, and Mr. Alvanley's voice was heard giving directions to his groom, as he led his horse round to the stable.

Lady Lisle's poorer neighbours were not deceived by the appearances which set at nought the penetration of the wise; and as old Dame Parkins and her friend Mrs. Bennett passed the large Ashton pew, in which Lady Lisle had resumed her accustomed seat, they dropped a low, respectful curtsey, whispering to each other words of pity about the poor lady," as they moved on towards the seats appropriated to the Alms-house pensioners.

66

Nearly facing her pew, but hidden from observation by a projecting column, sat a stranger in the congregation, on the first Sunday that Lady Lisle had appeared in the House of Prayer after her great affliction. Her deep crape veil was drawn over her face, so that her evident intention and wish were, as far as possible, to escape observation or recognition.

It was not devotion, nor the fame of the quiet, good man, who, from his pulpit, sought to edify, not electrify, his hearers, which had attracted the dark and serious-looking being, to whose lips the words of prayer were well