her to swerve from the dictates of conscience. Her fervent prayer was that the beloved child of her care should prove faithful to God and to virtue faithful to the conviction of her own heart; and that although the world might change around her, still might she be found the same; persevering and steady in uprightness and honour.

With the soothing representations of Mrs. Stewart, Blanche soon recovered her self-possession. She felt, indeed, that she had at least equity on her side; and although hers was a difficult path to tread, still it must be pursued with firmness.

Her love for Herbert sprang from the purest source. Mrs. Stewart even could not condemn it. True it was that he was poor; but did not that render him more dear to her generous heart? To enrich him with her abundant wealth was the cherished wish of her heart. In young heart. In every other respect how truly

worthy was he of her! indeed, when she thought of his many virtues, she felt sincerely that in marrying Herbert it would be herself who was the favoured person.

These reflections soon dried her tears; her proper pride and natural strength of mind returned; and she felt prepared to meet again the haughty eye of her aunt. She also remembered the Duke's promise that she should meet some one who was to make to her the interesting disclosure concerning the present retreat of the Cecil family.

Her heart now glowed with anticipated happiness; and by the time she had completed her toilette, her usually pale countenance was suffused with a bright flush; and as Mrs. Stewart kissed her cheek, when she came to say "good night," her fond friend held her from her for a moment, contemplating with gratified affection the unusual loveliness of her

appearance.

14

CHAPTER II.

"What though our love was never told,
Or breathed in sighs alone;

By signs that would not be controll❜d,
Its growing strength was shown;
The touch, that thrill'd us with delight—
The glance-by art untamed;
In one short hour, as brief as bright,
That tender truth proclaim'd."

BLANCHE was agreeably surprised on joining her aunt to find that the clouds with which she had left her, were all dispersed. Her stormy countenance was now serene, and she was all smiles and condescension. This was most unlooked for; but truly welcome to the heart of poor Blanche, which beat quickly in

alarm when she found herself alone in the carriage with one she feared so much.

There was a spirit of haughtiness which so generally blended itself in every action of Lady Clairville, that it could not but alienate the affections of her niece; and, indeed, of all those who came under the influence of her power. No sympathy had she ever evinced in any of the feelings of her niece; no tenderness had ever existed in their intercourse: can it then be wondered at that Blanche, notwithstanding the natural warmth of her feelings, experienced no affection towards this her almost nearest relative, the one who ought to have commanded the love which a mother's care would have elicited?

Lady Clairville, on hearing the confession of Blanche, had given way to a paroxysm of anger which was indeed fearful from its violence. Her first resolve was the determination of using every degree of severity towards