'Very delicate indeed, I thought."

"Ah! I fear that her days are numbered, nor should I regret it so much, for death would be a happy release to her from much suffering, had she at hand the advice and consolation she most needs now."

"Surely, that cannot be denied to her?"

"It is a difficult and intricate question enough," whispered Cécile, looking anxiously around, to assure herself that she would not be overheard. The fact is, that poor Mabel was -in short was born and bred a Catholic, and is still one at heart, though she has been prevailed upon outwardly to profess the Protestant faith by her step-mother, and the rest of her family."

"Her step-mother? I suppose that she is the harsh, ungainly Scotchwoman whom I saw in the house with her."

"Most probably; and a true step-mother she has proved to poor Mabel, particularly since her father's death."

When the ladies had retired, the subject of Mabel Hawthorne's misconduct having again been introduced, St. Edmunds ascertained that she had been seduced, about a year before, by a steward of Sir Charles', who had since left his

service. It struck our hero that the indignation testified by the worthy Baronet at the frailty of the ill-fated girl, was not a little stimulated by the recollection that she had mainly thereby entailed upon him the loss of a most valuable. servant; but the matter was dismissed for the present from his thoughts, even before he again found himself in the society of those whose attractions the humbler charms of poor Mabel could never have pretended to rival.

The ensuing day was Sunday, and when the young Viscount entered the breakfast-room, rather late, we fear, he found the remainder of the family already there, with the exception of Cécile.

"I should almost have to apologize, if I had not a fellow-delinquent," exclaimed he.

"All right, nephew," replied the Baronet; "you are in very good time for church; but Mademoiselle had better take care, or she will be late for her service at Glanford.

"I believe that Miss Cecil is already gone," whispered Mr. Collins to his master.

Gone, Collins! Why, I didn't hear the carriage !"

"No, Sir Charles; Miss Cecil started at eight o'clock on foot.”

"On foot, Collins! She will find it a stiff walk enough; four good miles there, and as many back. Why did she not take the carriage? do you know, Constance ?"

"I really do not, dear papa," replied she; "but I am afraid I can guess."

Well, then, what is it you guess ?”

"Never mind," answered she, exchanging a hasty glance of annoyance with her brother. Constance is very seldom angry, or what is familiarly called put out. She is far too well satisfied with the world at large, and with her own general appearance ever to betray an infirmity so unbecoming. But when this most rare occurrence does take place, it is a very enchanting and at the same time a very appalling sight, to observe how stern those blue eyes can look, and how closely the smiling lips can be compressed. When it has been our fate to trace some such expression there, we have trembled immoderately at the bare apprehension that we might be the cause or object; and some such feeling, we presume, took momentary

possession of St. Edmunds, for he said to her in a whisper :

"I had no conception, Constance, that you could look so fierce. I trust that I have said nothing to produce so sudden a change."

"You! no, indeed," answered she; "but those whom it concerns shall know soon enough."

These, we presume, were none other than her father and Lady Helen, for no sooner was breakfast over, than she drew them aside and, with a look of the most determined authority, expounded to them what seemed to be her own private opinion as opposed to theirs. She was soon joined and seconded by Edward, and the result of the conference appeared to be, that the worthy Baronet was moved to something very like regret, while Lady Helen preserved her outward semblance of calm and almost triumphant self-complacency.

The morning was fine for the progress of the family party to church; but during the service, the autumn rain and sleet set in with great violence, and right happy were all the party to find the family coach awaiting at the door, to reconduct them in comfort, even through the

short space which separates the hall from the village sanctuary. When they found themselves in the library, Constance and her cousin's first impulse was to rush for a few minutes to its blazing fire; but so powerful was the heat, that they soon experienced greater satisfaction in sitting down near one of the windows, and musing upon the pleasing contrast which a good shelter and a bright hearth will in such cases afford to the cheerless atmosphere without. They had not been long there when a solitary and weather-worn pilgrim was discerned, treading her weary way towards the house, along the now miry path which led from the lodge across the park, her clothes drenched with rain and her figure drooping under the relentless fury of the storm.

"Gracious heavens !" said Constance, "can that be poor, darling Cécile? I trusted that she would at least have found some conveyance at Glanford."

In a moment, St. Edmunds was in the hall, where he seized an umbrella and, without even looking for his hat, rushed out to meet the forlorn naiden. But when, as he approached her, he attempted to open the umbrella, she