she was convinced of her identity when news with a tender brightness. "You are glad that of Mrs. Vivian's illness came; she heard the I have Castle Vivian," said Philip; "do you wondering exclamations of Aunt Burtonshaw, know how I have it, Zaidee?" He had never and the joyous voice of Sophy ringing a uni- called her Zaidee before, and she looked up versal chorus to every other felicitation; she gratefully, thinking the cloud had passed away. heard it all, but only as some one far off might But it did not seem that Philip could bear this hear. She was in a maze of strange bewilder- upward look, for he turned his head from her a ment was it possible that she was at home? little, and led her down again rather abruptly, that her name was Zaidee Vivian, and not as he began to speak in the plainest and most Elizabeth Cumberland? — that she was restored matter-of-fact style. "Sir Francis Vivian had to her identity, to herself, and to her friends? no son," said Philip; "his only heir was a favorZaidee sat bending her beautiful head upon her ite adopted child, and he would not confer the hands uncertain, wondering; then falling back lands of the Vivians upon one who bore another at last on one thing certain, pausing to ask her- name. So he bequeathed to me the house itself, self why Philip had not a word to say when on condition that I was able to purchase the Zaidee was found again. lands attached to it for a sum he named-a sufficient sum to endow richly his adopted son. I was able to do this by good fortuneand now the chief branch of our family is once more seated in its original place."

He ended abruptly as he had began; and but that he kept her hand very closely upon his arm, Zaidee would have thought she was a great incumbrance to him, and that he wished her away.

you every kind of rank and honor; but I never thought of Castle Vivian; I never thought of the other family house, which we must always have even a greater pride in than even in our own Grange."

"You gave me rank and honor, did you?" said Philip, melting a little. "Well, I thought of you often enough, Zaidee; many a day."

When the barrier of a night was placed between her and this wonderful day, it became less unreal to the returned exile. While every one else was still asleep, Zaidee, waking in the early dawn, went out to wander about this lordly dwelling of her race, and with family pride and interest admire its massive front and noble proportions. She stood within the wide, deep alcove of the porch, looking down upon that line of noble trees fluttering their yellow "When I left the Grange first, I was continufoliage in the morning sun, and throwing down ally dreaming of happy chances to bring me a shower of leaves with every breath of wind. home again," said Zaidee, "but I wonder that I Their shadows lay across the path, dividing it never thought of this, the best way of all. I into long lines; and beyond lay the rich fore-imagined you a very great man often, and gave ground of turf, the grassy banks between which the road disappeared, passing out from this retired and lofty privacy into the busy world. The broad stone balcony from which Elizabeth and Margaret had caught their first glimpse of her, yesterday, descended by a flight of stairs into the old rich flower-garden, still gay with patches of old-fashioned flowers; and the great house, so large, so lofty, with its air of wealth, When he said this they were at the door, and and place, and old magnificence, filled Zaidee Philip escaped hastily with the look of a culprit. with a great thrill of pleasure and of pride. As "There was surely nothing wrong in thinking she made her way by the garden path to the of me," Zaidee said to herself as she threaded other side of the house, looking up at it with those lofty passages to her own room. simple delight and admiration, and pausing to she arrived there, and by chance saw herself in see far off the hills of Wales, and a beautiful the mirror, with the faint color of her cheek glimpse of green fields and woodlands without freshened by the morning, and her eyes full of this domain, Zaidee could not repress her ex- light and pleasure, Zaidee was struck with a ultation. "And this is Philip's-and Philip momentary consciousness. She went away from is the true head of the house-and Castle the glass in great haste with a blush of shame; Vivian has come back to him," said Zaidee. at that moment, of all moments, Sophy's burst She spoke under her breath, but still she started to see Philip himself approaching her. A glow of pleasure was on Philip's face, but still he drew back, and bowed, and was ceremonious. He offered her his arm with the respect of a courtier. He called her cousin; and Zaidee looked up at him timidly, afraid to say, as she had intended to say, "Philip, are you angry?" The two continued their walk together in silence. She suffered him to lead her quietly, and did not ask where he was going; but where he was going was simply out of the flower-garden into a noble park, dotted with grand trees, and undulating into knolls and hollows, covered with the richest greensward. He led her to one of these little eminences, and they looked back together upon the beautiful pile of building before them, on which the morning sun shone

When

of triumph "a great beauty!" flashed into Zaidee's mind. If she was a great beauty, poor Zaidee could not help it; but she arranged her morning-dress very rapidly, and kept far away from the mirror. Zaidee was sadly ashamed of herself when this annoying consciousness came to her mind.

"May I come in?" said Mary Cumberland, as she opened the door. "I wonder what I am to call you now; it must be Lizzy still. And how could you keep such a secret from me? You might have told me; indeed you might, you secret heiress-you lady of mystery. I remember such quantities of things now, about how you used to talk at Ulm, and words I thought so strange. Of course, if mamma had known, or Aunt Burtonshaw, your secret would have been no secret; but you might have trusted me.”

"I dared not trust any one, Mary," said | Powisland, and her father was with Grandfather Zaidee. Vivian. Did they put it back in the Grange "And to think how slow Percy was," con- library, Sophy? it had the same binding as all tinued Mary, who had by no means exhausted the other books. Did you see it, that strange her own self-congratulations, "and how ready legacy? I thought Grandfather Vivian was to believe that I myself, and only me, was anx-leading me then; and when I found the book, I ious to see Philip on his way home. He said I was very ill, and had a fever. I thought at first had a right to my whim-simple Percy!-and I would have come home, but it was not enough after all, the dog was a greater assistance to him for Philip, and I never knew he had gone to than I was in finding you out; for he had found India: I thought he was at the Grange, and you out before you discovered yourself. Poor you were all happy at home." Sylvo, Lizzy, what will become of him? He will go away to the delights of savagery; he will shoot elephants, or be an Abyssinian dandy, and Sylvo's place will go to waste, and all the while your cousin Philip and you will look at each other. What do I mean? I do not mean anything, my princess—but there is Mrs. Burlington coming to rejoice over you, and I will go away."

"It certainly would be an effectual lesson against throwing stones," said Sir David Powis, with well-bred gravity.

"But, Mr. Cumberland, only think how cold!" cried Sophy, whose apprehension was as practical and matter-of-fact as ever; "they could never stand a gale at Briarford; and then

Elizabeth will have you at all times. What faults of your peasantry as to build them palaces beautiful hair she has got, and how she has of glass." grown, and how much she is like Elizabeth! Don't you think so, mamma? There is a picture in the gallery that might have been done for Zaidee. It is quite the family face. My little Herbert has a little of it. Did you see my boy, Zaidee? And you saw all Elizabeth's children? Why have you stayed so long away from home, you foolish child? You don't know how we have why, it would quite be living in public; wished for you, and searched for you. Sophy everybody would see everything they did.” sobbed herself to sleep I cannot tell how many "So much the better for their transparency nights after you were lost, and we did nothing and purity of character," said Mr. Cumberland; but dream of you night and day. I never hear "so much the better, my dear madam- and an the winter wind even at Powisland but I listen immediate cure to the dangerous propensity of for footsteps; and you have been Miss Cumber- the poorer classes for throwing stones, as Sir land all the while. How very strange that your David very justly says-but perfectly capable adopted sister should be Percy's betrothed! of a high rate of temperature, as our conserhow very strange! When we heard of Miss vatories show. I should not be at all surprised Cumberland, and of Miss Cumberland's sister, if the old proverb of those who live in glass who was like our Elizabeth, how little we dreamt houses' had a prophetic reference to this beauthat she was our own Zaidee! You must bring tiful suggestion. We do our ancestors very poor Zay to Powisland, mamma. And Zay, Sir justice, Sir David. I am convinced they perDavid wants to know about the old woman who ceived the capacity of a great many things that was a servant to his family. Everything is so we, with all our boasts, are only beginning to wonderful about this child-Grandfather Viv-put into use. I consider this an admirable opian's book, and the person who served the Powises she must have been quite surrounded with things belonging to the family. You must have remembered us as well, Zaidee, as we remembered you."

When Lady Powis paused to take breath, Mrs. Burtonshaw eagerly took the opportunity. "My dear child," said Mrs. Burtonshaw, "I am sure I shall never be able to call you anything but Elizabeth, or to think you belong to another family. Indeed, I am sure I never shall; and to think we should have had her so long, and never found this out. Maria Anna!- and Mary to discover it all! But my dear Mary always was so sensible a child. We will all find it very dull going back to Twickenham, and leaving you behind, my dear love; and Sylvo will never believe it, I am sure. It will be very dreary for me, Elizabeth, and Maria Anna will feel it a great deal, and so will Mr. Cumberland. I think we will never be able to stay in that house when we lose both Mary and you."

"The house is necessarily imperfect, sister Burtonshaw," said Mr. Cumberland. "Improvements are never so satisfactory as a place well planned from the beginning. I have a great mind to begin anew-the Elizabethan style has its advantages; and I hear a great deal of the adaptability of glass. What do you think of glass and iron as materials for your cottages, Sir David?a beautiful material, brilliant and inexpensive, and capable of very rapid erection. By the way, I know of nothing better adapted to promote the artistic education of the people. Those light iron shafts take the most beautiful forms; and as for color, nothing can excel glass. Suppose a row of cottages now, instead of the ordinary affairs, with low walls and thatched roof, springing up to the light with these glittering arches. Depend upon it, sir, a very great moral influence is in the nature of our houses. You could not do anything so sure to correct the

·

portunity for a great moral reformation — to a man who considers the welfare of his country a perfectly sufficient reason for acquiring land."

And Mr. Cumberland turned immediately to the Times Supplement of yesterday, and began to turn over its advertisements with an interested eye. Mr. Cumberland already felt a disinterested necessity for becoming a landed proprietor, and in imagination saw his glittering line of novel cottages, the inhabitants of which should be effectually convinced of the damage of throwing stones, shining under the sun, with a sheen of reflection against which the homely thatched roof had no chance. Sir David Powis, who was a satirist, and loved "a character" with his whole heart, drew near Mr. Cumberland with the most benevolent eagerness to ascertain the particulars of his scheme; and Philip was being questioned at one end of the table, Zaidee at the other. The family party abounded in conversation, every one had so much to ask, and so much to tell; and though Zaidee was the greater wonder of the two, and somewhat eclipsed Philip, Philip had been absent equally long, and had a larger stock of adventures. The very servants moved about in quickened time in that buzz of happy commotion the wide family circle was so full of life.

CHAPTER XXXIV. -THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE

To the much amazement of all the family, it appeared that Philip was anxious to go to London before proceeding to the Grange, which was still "home" to all these Vivians. Grandfather Vivian's will had to be proved and established, and Zaidee formally invested with her property, and Philip had business of his own in town. Philip proposed a family migration thither; he was very sympathetic of the loss which Zaidee's kind friends must feel in losing her so suddenly. "I do not care to part with you, mother, even

for a day," said Philip; "and it is hard to sep- Cumberland. Silver spoons were continually slidarate my cousin from her old life so hurriedly." ing out by the buttery-hatch, which was intend"But, Philip it is no worse, at the very worst, ed for nothing less innocent than broken meats than if she had been married," said Sophy; or bread; and the benevolent dolphin of the foun"when she married, of course, she must have tain was long since robbed of his enamelled cup. left Mrs. Cumberland. Miss Cumberland her- But, last and worst, the unkindest cut of all, self must leave home when she is married. It those urchins, for whose benefit Mr. Cumberland may be very hard, you know, but we all have to besought his wealthy brethren to decorate with do it, and this is no worse than Zaidee's mar- monograms the front of their houses, took into riage would be." But to the surprise of Sophy, their independent British minds to pelt Mr. CumPhilip regarded with considerable haughtiness berland's own monogram with clay, and, findthe prospect of Zaidee's marriage. It did not ing it an admirable butt, persevered till the phiseem at all an agreeable object of contemplation lanthropist found only bits of the dragon's tail to the head of the house. He withdrew from and morsels of the gilding peering out, unfortuthe question with great gravity and stateliness, nate memorials of the cannonade. "If these and with considerable embarrassment mingling little vagabonds had been bred in houses of crysin his usual deference, turned to Zaidee herself. tal, it would have fared better with this ornamen"If it is only a whim, will you humor it? "tation, for which they do not yet show themselves said Philip, bending over Zaidee's hand. "I sufficiently educated," said Mr. Cumberland, would rather have a little time elapse before we undismayed. "Sir David Powis is a very senall go back to the Grange; our old home is very dear to us all, but I ask for a few weeks', a very few weeks', delay.'

Zaidee became embarrassed, too, in sight of Philip's embarrassment; she withdrew from him a little, and her eyes fell under his glance with an uncomfortable consciousness. Wondering, as she did, what Philip could mean, Zaidee did not inquire into it; she consented to his wish readily, but with considerable confusion. "If Zaidee will invite us, let us all keep Philip's birthday at home in the Grange," cried Sophy; and to this there was a universal assent. But when Mary and Zaidee, with Percy for their squire, and Mrs. Burlington for their chaperone, set out on a day's visit to the old family dwelling-place, Philip evaded all invitations to accompany them. He preferred not to see the Grange till his business was done, and all his plans concluded. No body could understand Philip, and mysterious whispers of wonder stole through the family, and Sophy and Margaret held synods upon him. Could Philip be "in love," that mysterious condition which these old married ladies were amused at, yet interested in? Elizabeth, for her part, only smiled when she was introduced to these discussions. Nobody was jealous of Elizabeth -yet Lady Powis did grudge a little that the newly-returned and well-beloved brother should not give his confidence equally to all.

But, as it happened, Philip had not given his confidence to any one, if he had a confidence to give. The family assembly dispersed from Castle Vivian to gather again at the Grange; and Philip and Percy and Aunt Vivian accompanied the Cumberland family to London. Zaidee was still Elizabeth, their adopted daughter, to these kind people; she was still Aunt Burtonshaw's dear child, though Aunt Burtonshaw's hopes for Sylvo grew fainter and fainter; and the house at Twickenham was honored to receive Mrs. Vivian, who would not again lose sight of the long-lost child. To the kind but somewhat imperious mistress of the Grange, Mr. Cumberland's porch was an intolerable nuisance; she had much ado restraining herself from sweeping forth its inappropriate inmates, who, indeed, made themselves somewhat embarrassing neighbors even to Mrs.

sible man, sister Burtonshaw. The next generation will be better taught. You shall see no missiles either of stone or clay in the hands of the boys of my cottages. We will refine these uncultivated natures, sister Burtonshaw — never fear!" and Mr. Cumberland retired to perfect his plan for the construction of cottages of iron and glass.

"Sylvo is coming here for a week or two, Elizabeth," said Mrs. Burtonshaw. "Poor Sylvo, I am sure you will be kind to him, my darling, and not send the poor boy away. He is a very different man from Mr. Vivian, my love. I do not deny that Mr. Vivian is handsome, Elizabeth, and a very fine young man; but I am afraid he always takes his own way. Now Sylvo, though he is so manly, is so easy and so good, that any one he loves can make him do anything, my dear child."

"Sylvo is very good and very kind. I know he is, Aunt Burtonshaw," said Zaidee.

"Yes, indeed, my love, though I am his mother, Sylvo is very good, Elizabeth. Now, I am sure there is something very grand about Mr. Vivian; but, for my part, I always feel I would rather do his way than make him do mine, and that makes a great difference in married life, my dear child. All the ladies wanted to go to the Grange, that place of yours, my dear; but Mr. Vivian wanted to come to London, and therefore we came; and all your trouble and your running away was because Mr. Vivian would not hear reason. I like him very well; he is a very handsome young man, and I do not wonder his family are proud of him; but I do not think I should like to marry Mr. Vivian, Elizabeth; he is a great deal different from my Sylvo. I am afraid he always takes his own way."

Žaidee did not dispute the fact, for in her secret heart she was greatly disturbed about Philip. What Philip was doing was not at present very well known to any of them. He lived in London with Percy, but came faithfully with Percy every night to visit the family at Twickenham. Percy had made the boldest dash into the business of his legitimate profession. Some one who knew the family, and admired the genius of it, had

retained him to advocate his cause in a plea very shortly to be tried; and Percy laughed his gay, scornful laugh when remonstrances were made against his daily visits to his betrothed, and when his time of preparation was spoken of. "I am quite prepared," said Percy, and there was no farther room to say a word. But one evening, while they sat in expectation of the brothers, Mr. Steele came to pay one of his visits. "Have you heard what happened to young Vivian?" said Mr. Steele. "The case came on before it was expected, and he got up immediately, and made the most brilliant speech that has been heard for years; but when the young gentleman sat down, what do you think he had done, Mrs. Burtonshaw? Instead of pleading his client's case, he had been pleading the opposition- and gained his plea !""

It was but too true. Percy came out very rueful, very comical-varying between great discomfiture and despondency, and fits of overpowering laughter. It was not my side, to be sure, but it was the right of the question," said Percy. "They could never have gained it with their blundering fellow of a leading counsel, who could make nothing of it, right or wrong. I can't help it; and now I suppose I am done; they may call me 'Single-speech Vivian.' Alas for the evanescent glory of fees! I will never get one again."

them after an antique fashion, which, in Philip's fancy, adds the last aggravation of which it is capable to Zaidee's singular beauty. This lovely lady of romance is that same Zaidee who, with a child's love and unthinking generosity, sacrificed all her world of comfort and security for the sake of Philip. This is the Zaidee who once made a certain proposal to Philip, which roused his boyish manhood only to annoyance and embarrassment; but the Philip of the present time has learned an infinite deal of humility from those eyes which once appealed to him as the highest judge. As he steps back, he makes a beseeching sign to his mother, of which Mrs. Vivian, who is not in the habit of hiding her son's candle under a measure, takes no notice as she proceeds.

child?"

"I only remember what Philip said to me, Aunt Vivian, when I found the will," said Zaidee.

"And what was that?" said Mrs. Vivian eagerly. Philip made a pretence of drawing still farther back, but, like a hypocrite, while he pretended to turn away, only came the nearer.

"What do you think Philip has been doing, Zaidee? Your cousins' portions were suddenly brought to nothing by that unfortunate will. The children were all penniless: Margaret had nothing when she married, and neither had Sophy, poor child, who had more need for it; and Percy has got embarrassed, you know. Well, here is Philip, who, after all, did not get Castle Vivian as an inheritance so much as a purchase-what do you think he says he has been doing? He has been settling the portions of the younger children upon them-more than they could have had, had we kept the GrangeIt happened, fortunately, that Mr. Cumber- very considerable fortunes, indeed, Zaidee. He land was greatly tickled with this misadventure has made himself quite a poor man. Philip of his son-in-law elect. It struck the philoso- ought not to have done it; what do you say, pher's peculiar sense of humor; and nobody had a word of blame to say to the gay Percy, who was already casting about in his fertile brains for some other expedient, which might be more successful, to disembarrass him. Philip was standing by the window with his mother. The mirror gave a pretty reflection of these two figures the little lady in her widow's dress, with a rich India shawl which Philip had brought, replacing the Shetland wool one which has been worn out before now; but her rich, dim, black silk gown, and her widow's cap the same as of old, her waist as slender, her foot in its high-heeled shoe, as rapid and as peremptoryher whole person as completely realizing the fairy godmother of Zaidee's fancy as it had ever done; while Philip stood beside her in the easy, unelaborate dress of an English gentleman, with his close curls clustering about his manly head, his cheek bronzed, his hand laid playfully upon his mother's shoulder: he has been making a report to her, laughing at some objections she "My dear love, Sylvo is coming to-morrow," urges, and explaining rapidly and clearly some- said Mrs. Burtonshaw. Mrs. Burtonshaw was thing which his mother only receives with diffi- nervous about Sylvo's coming, and told every culty, shaking her head. While they stand individual in the house, though every one althus, Mrs. Vivian suddenly calls Zaidee to her; ready knew. Sylvo came from London, and on the instant Philip Vivian relapses into a brought with him, instead of the peaceful portstately and deferential paladin— the most chiv-manteau which might have been expected, the alrous knight who ever worshipped his lady from afar—and withdraws a step back as his beautiful cousin comes forward to answer his mother's summons. Mrs. Vivian has put away Zaidee's simple muslin gowns, and has dressed her richly as it suits her fair form to be dressed; and the maker of these rustling silks has made

"He said it was the office of the head of the house to see that the children of the house had all their rights," said Zaidee; and she raised to Philip those glistening beautiful eyes which struck Philip with such profound humility. He turned away on the instant, afraid to trust himself, but he could not help hearing the end of Zaidee's sentence. "This is Philip's inheri tance, Aunt Vivian. I understand it—he is the head of the house!"

CHAPTER XXXV. — CONCLUSION.

most marvellous stock of baggage—“traps," as Sylvo was pleased to entitle them. Among these were two fowling-pieces, a magnificently mounted dirk, and some murderous revolvers, with one or two extraordinary plaids or blan kets, the use of all which to a quiet country gentleman in Essex, Mrs. Burtonshaw could not