"Oh! this is too, too cruel!" groaned the over-wrought Cécile, and sinking down upon the couch by which she was standing, she hid her head in one of the cushions, and sobbed aloud.

This was an unexpected triumph for Lady Helen. Generally, during interviews of this description, Saint Cecilia, who was as proud as a whole clutch of peacocks, would succeed, however much the inward heart might bleed, in presenting a tolerably unmoved front to the galling attacks of the adversary, and sometimes even in repelling them with considerable effect. It was not until her own silent room was reached, and the door well closed upon her, that the untamed but sorely wounded spirit would find its relief in silent tears, or in some half-frantic invocation to the Patron Saint. On this occasion, however, Patience, and Fortitude, and Pride, were all overwhelmed in one common disaster, and the breaking heart throbbed with the fury of mediæval madness against its fetters.

Sir Charles Basinstoke had many of the faults, but not the faults only, of an English country gentleman. Nothing could be more

uncongenial to his naturally generous and upright mind than the sight which he now beheld, and there was something of remorse, but more of indignation in his tone, as he exclaimed:

"You need not have given that last thrust― Helen! upon my word, you needn't. It was no fault of hers if her mother went astray, and no reason on earth that she should do so too. Just see what a state she is in now."

"Don't be alarmed; don't be the least alarmed," replied his imperturbable wife, who well knew the deep respect which he entertained for her, and the almost boundless influence which she had acquired over him. You think this is sorrow, perhaps; not a bit of it-it is all temper. Spite and rage, that we should deem a word of warning, and guidance, to be occasionally necessary-nothing more. I am very glad to find, at all events, that what we have said has told a little, and that some of the wayward spirit is finding its way out. Nothing could be more beneficial, believe me."

"Beneficial beneficial!" muttered Sir Charles; "it is a kind of doctoring that I

don't at all like. Whenever I speak to her, she minds all I say, and I have never broken her heart in this way-poor, silly child that she is !"

Oh! yes; that is all very well, but when you reprove her, there is so much joking, and so forth, that it is hard to say whether you are in earnest or not. I happen to know where the shoe pinches; and if people choose to have pride and pretensions beyond their prospects, they must occasionally suffer for it. Go on until you have tired yourself, my dear," continued Lady Helen, complacently addressing the still convulsed Cécile, "and when you have exposed yourself to your heart's content, perhaps you will think over what we have said, and shape your course accordingly. member, however, that I do not trust you, and be very cautious, or you will soon hear from me again, in the same style, or in one that may be even less to your liking."

Re

Come, Helen, that'll do; that'll do," interposed her husband, who was watching the progress of the execution with increased discomfort. "We can leave her there alone, poor child, and she will soon recover."

1

"That she will, I make no doubt, and begin again too," replied Lady Helen, most reluctantly preparing to follow Sir Charles; "but I have a word more for her yet. You will be pleased to bear in mind, Cécile, that if I expect your future intercourse with Edward to be reserved, as it should be, I shall not countenance, henceforth, over much intimacy with Constance either. I do not at all wish my children's minds to be poisoned with foreign and Popish notions; and the less I see you with them, when I am not present, the better for yourself, as well as for them."

At this crowning admonition, poor Cécile started up, as if the barbed words had inflicted no figurative wound, and throwing herself at her uncle's feet, exclaimed, with the native and impetuous eloquence of voice, of gesture, and of look which appertains to her alone :

"Did you hear that, Sir Charles Basinstoke? Surely you will not suffer one who bears your name, your own and only brother's child, to be thus trampled upon. As I hope for the mercy of my Heavenly Father, I have never known any other feeling for Edward than those which

I have avowed; and I can bear, without a sigh, any estrangement from him. But Conny and I are more than sisters-our hearts are one; they cannot be torn asunder. Who will dare to say that I have ever injured—that I ever could injure her pure, spotless mind? Let me wander through the wide world, until God calls me to Him again, but do not retain me here, merely that I should be thus branded in the eyes of all your household."

"No, no, my dear, of course not, to be sure not," replied the sorely perplexed Baronet, as he well nigh forcibly drew away his most unwilling spouse.