"Oh dear, I am- -at least"Well, dear Camilla, I must speak the truth," quite peevishly. "You don't look it, dear, not by many years. If you are vexed with me for saying so, I cannot help it. It is only right, my duty, to let you know. People do talk, and will talk; and a little hint given in time, and taken in good part, may prevent mischief afterwards. Pauline, you know, ah-is-ah-very, quite, in fact, unsophisticated-knows nothing of the world. And she is French, you know-French. She runs up intimacies without any idea of the consequences."

"If Pauline is French, so am I." The La Sarte blood is slightly roused by the insinuation, but Jemima hastens to pour oil upon the waters. "Yes, dear, you are. And you are imprudent, and that is why I need to speak. Looking as young as you do, and with everything of youth about you, even to insouciance-but I am wrong, I make

him? He is away from the neighbourhood the very moment he has the leave to travel, for which he has for long impatiently petitioned.

On the day preceding his departure, a suggestion having been made by the butler, he turns his head languidly, and with a yawn, replies"Compliments and thanks? Yes, of course. Send round. Here, take these away. What are you putting them down there for?" It is the cards that have been left at the house.

"Not like to look at them, sir?" "Eh? No. Clear the table, and let Mr Chaworth know I am down. And a glass of sherry, Maddock."

So he comes and goes; and the reaction which had set in in his favour speedily dies out.

Blundellsaye is once more deserted, and distinctly now, amid its leafless woods, may be seen from every side, the ample many - windowed building, over which the sun, as he sats in the west, nightly throws his parting beams.

Snow falls, and then come the east winds of early spring.

Mrs Wyndham has cold after cold, and fancies that the air at the Grange does not agree with her. The neighbours are departing one by one, and she does not clearly understand why Dolly Finch left immediately after Christmas, and why the invitations to Finch Hall have not been so numerous since then. Pauline holds her peace. "Perhaps," considers the goodnatured creature, "my niece has had a disappointment. Perhaps we were, all things considered, somewhat premature. Silence, my dear Jemima, silence is the best, if not the only cure for such a misfortune. We will not say a word, we will be discretion itself. All may come right if let alone-it may indeed." She endeavours thus to buoy her

self up, but it is evident that the disappointment, if there be one, is not confined to Pauline. Mrs Wyndham wants a change. Wales? Yes. The mountain breezes would brace her up nicely for the London season, to the idea of which she clings.

Would she like Charlotte to go, or Minnie?

Mrs Jermyn would be only too happy to spare either of the dear girls, and the dear girls were by no means averse to going.

"I rather like that poor Pauline," observed Charlotte, one morning when she and her sister were alone

together. "There is something pathetic about her, if you know what I mean. I never can be sure if she is what the people call 'simple,' or not. She is one thing at one time, and one at another. There is something fine in seeing her come into a room so cool and composed that you would think nothing could put her out; and then some trifle will throw her off her balance all in a moment. I believe she thinks she is a remarkably strong-minded, determined character; and if she believed it to be her duty to walk to the end of the world, she would gravely set out to do it; and she would fall on her nose at the twelfth step, and sit there looking at you with a pair of sad, imploring eyes. Pauline's eyes always remind me of a sheepdog's who has lost his master. Minnie, do you think Pauline has lost her master?"

"I don't think she has found him -hereabouts, at any rate," replied Minnie. A brilliant reply for her.

"No; that I am sure of. Unless but that must have been nonsense. They gave a dinner-party the nighthe was said to be dying. The dinner-party that Pauline was taken ill at Good heavens !!"

"You don't suppose that escaped mamma?" said Minnie. "But she

thought Pauline's influence would have prevented any party being given, under the circumstances, if Pauline had cared."

"Mamma can no more understand that girl than she can a book of poetry!" exclaimed Charlotte. "She use her influence! She prevent a party! She would drive round, and deliver the invitations herself, and not have the least idea when she came home what houses she had been to! If Aunt Camilla chose to give a ball the night Pauline was dying, she would say, 'Oh yes,' and put on her best dress for the occasion!"

"What nonsense you talk!" said Minnie, sensibly. "How could she?"

"I am the only one who knows anything about her," continued her sister, without heeding. "Poor girl! So that was it, was it? I can fancy it all now. I think I see her in her amber crape that she had been asked' to wear! And she would not own to a single thrill of vanity. No wonder! Minnie, how did you keep this to yourself for so long?"

"I never thought of it till this moment," confessed Minnie.

"Then let neither of us say a word. Mamma shan't have a chance of worrying it out of the poor thing; but, if I go to Wales, I shall just try to find out a little more; that would be but a fair reward for keeping her secret."

Charlotte, however, was not invited to go to Wales.

Another great girl, Aunt Camilla confided to Pauline, would make them an awkward number.

It was tiresome to have the back seat of the carriage always stuffed up; and three women trailing one after another into the rooms at hotels would be absurd.

Wetherell could look after her and Pauline, but she certainly could

from the subject before the conclusion of the monologue.

"I was thinking of your saying that all things went smoothly for me," she replied. "I am afraid you will say I have taken an opportunity of preaching to you at last, Charlotte; but somehow your saying that, recalled to my mind the text, All things work together for good to them that fear Him.' You don't mind my saying it, dear? I do fear Him, you know, and you noticed the rest for yourself."

"Do you really believe it is that?" said Charlotte, with an awed look on her face. "If any one else had made such a remark, I should have called it profane. According to your ideas, then, the best thing one can do for one's self is to become religious. I mean, of course, in the way of getting things."

"Loaves and fishes? No; you know better than that. It is only those who are ready to give up, who can hope to receive."

"You would give up, I do believe," said Charlotte. "I don't think you would mind what you gave up. You never seem to me to have taken hold properly, in this wicked world of ours. Sometimes I wonder whether you ever had a naughty thought in your life. Of course you will say you have-I see it on your lips; but, I don't know. You are not like other people. I can't fancy you looking after your own ends, and being in a rage because some one else had got what you wanted. I think if anything very bad happened to you, you would just-die."

The next time the Jermyns came over, it was to say good-bye.

Charlotte was in wild spirits. "Tell me," she cried, "what does the Little Fennel say to this? Is he heart-broken?"

"What-does-he-say?"

Here

"Shut the door, Minnie. is fun. Now, Pauline," cried her tormentor, "tell the truth, and shame somebody, with whom you never had any dealings, my dear. Little Fennel has made you an offer of his little heart, and his little hand, his big house, and the biggest pine in his garden. Now I'll tell you what he said, and all about it. He said, 'Come now, you had better take me you really had, now. Don't you think so? Because, you see, I'm so awfully in love with you. 'Pon my word I am. And you shall hunt, and shoot, and skate; and I'll teach you how to play lawn-tennis without a net at all. 'Pon my word I will. There isn't anybody else, is there? Because I'm sure nobody else would like you half as much as I do, for I like you awfully-I do indeed. Come now. What do you say?"

Pauline laughed so violently that Charlotte grew frightened.

"Are you hysterical, Pauline?" For pity's sake don't go on like that; you frighten me out of all the few wits I really do possess. You were grave enough two minutes ago I shan't dare to tell you any more. There, now, do do be quiet."

"It was like, was it?" said Minnie.

"I won't tell you; I won't hear you. Charlotte, be a good girl, and don't ask me; it is not fair. You surprised me into laughing, and then I could not leave off."

"Of course not; I know you are nearly worn out. You have been packing all day for Aunt Camilla. Because Wetherell is so tiresome, she never does know where the things are; and there is something, quite a little thing at the very bottom of the trunk, which ought to have been at the top! And dear Pauline is the only person who can get it out! And it won't take her two minutes!' etcetera, etcetera: and she won't keep dear Pauline any longer, for she ought to be looking after her own things; and the moment dear Pauline is at the door, she is called back to rummage for a mother-o'-pearl button."

"Never mind the button," said Minnie; "but do just tell us about little Fennel-only Charlotte and me; and we promise not to repeat it, even to mamma. Tell us when it was, and what he said."

"I can't tell you, Minnie. What would you think of me if I did? Be content with what you have found out for yourselves."

"You refused him, of course," said Charlotte. "But did he not want to know if there was any one else?"

"No, certainly not."
"And did he-

"Away? Then that was what sent him away, was it? He was the first in the field. Well done, Master Dolly! He knows the value of a good start and a clear coast."

"Nonsense, Charlotte."

"Not nonsense at all. Don't think to annihilate me with your 'Nonsense!' I am too well accustomed to the dear, delightful word, and have too much sympathy with the author of

'Sense may be all true and right, But, Nonsense-thou art exquisite.'

To return to Dolly. Be good, sweet Pauline (and let who will be clever'); tell us about Dolly."

"She is not likely to tell, while you talk, talk, talk the whole time yourself," said Minnie, indignantly. "I wonder if you ever think anybody else can like to say a word! It's always the same, wherever you go--"

"I wonder who is talking now?"

Pauline hoped that in the altercation other subjects might be forgotten: but no; the sisters were speedily reconciled, and returned in company to the attack.

"If you don't tell us, we shall imagine it worse than it was," cried they.

She would not tell them, and accordingly they proceeded to imagine.

"So that is your winter's work, is it?" concluded Miss Jermyn, at length. "And a very pretty winter's work, too. 'Pon my word it is, as your little man would say. So now you are off to Wales; and there you will break a few more 'country hearts, for pastime,' ere you'go to town.' Well, I won't envy you more than I can help; and, considering that you go with Aunt Camilla, I am not absolutely sure that I envy you at all."