"That young man recalls our pleasant time at Grasmere," Miss Buchanan said. "He came to see Rock Bank clear of us, and was very civil and polite. It is a pity he has such a very formal manner."

"He is a very good son," Anna Pennington interposed, "and is esteemed by all who know him."

Rachel hastened to turn the conversation away from Seph Whitelaw, and they were soon at James Bennet's door in Chorley Square.

Then Aunt Dorothy left Rachel, and pursued her way alone to Chapel Street, where she was unexpectedly greeted by Mr. Buchanan.

In eyes which many a livelong year

O'er scenes of human joy and woe

Have watched with vision calm and clear;

Which, bending as with angel's grief,

O'er faults and follies, crime and sin,

Still wait, in fulness of belief,

To see the better day begin."

“WELL, little Linda !”

MS.

"Oh, Uncle Maurice! I am so glad you are come. I can't get up to meet you. I have to lie flat on this board, and "-Linda's voice trembled "it is hard to have the pain all the same—just as bad.”

"Yes, Linda, my child, it is hard; but the doctor says you will get quite well, and when you are eighteen you will spring up a tall young lady, and take care of me."

"When I am eighteen! Oh, Uncle Maurice! four long years!"

"They wont seem so long as they pass, and we will all try to make them seem short.”

"Yes, I know how good you are, and with my dear Rachel, I ought never to be cross; but she has been gone such a long time, and I have quarrelled with Bentley since she went away."

"Where is Aunt Dorothy ?"

"She is gone with Rachel to the great Quakers' Meeting. They expected to see Mrs. Pennington there, and hear about Winifred. I don't think Rachel wanted to go, but Aunt Dorothy did. Here they are," as a carriage was heard to stop at the door, and a thundering knock resounded from the hand of the London cabman.

Mr. Buchanan rose from Linda's side, and advanced to mvet Miss Buchanan; but his eye looked anxiously beyond her, and then he saw she was alone.

"Maurice! this is a nice surprise. Well, my dear child, here I am at last. The Quakers' Meeting is the most wonderful sight. But I am very nearly tired out; it is a long drive, and the meeting lasted two hours. Rachel went home with Mrs. Pennington. Poor Winifred seems very much out of health. What is to be done, Maurice ?"

Bentley, the maid, now appeared to relieve her mistress of her shawl, and to take her up another flight of stairs to her bed-room. Linda occupied the one with Rachel, which was the only one on that floor.

66

Yes, Bentley, I must have your arm, for I am very tired."

But Mr. Buchanan stepped forward.

"Why not mine, Tantina ?" he said, affectionately. The dear old face was turned up to his instantly. "Are you well, Maurice? Is all right at Halchester? How is Chrystie ?"

"Three questions which it will take away my breath to answer as I go up these steep stairs. Let us take it gently."

But Mr. Buchanan answered none of the questions. He was fighting a daily battle with himself, and the scars of such conflicts leave a trace, however much we try to

from

hide them. He had thought he would be better away Rachel-he thought he could be more courageous and brave when he was not in her daily presence; but he had found this was a mistake. It was easier to look over the gulf which separated them, when he had to watch every word and every action, that he might be true to his promise that he would never trouble her again with any manifestation of his love; and so completely had he succeeded, that, before she left Halchester, Rachel felt the sense of security return, and she had begun to talk to him as in the early days of their intercourse; and, indeed, with him the union of mind and the sympathy of tastes had often made him forget that as man and woman, secure in the bonds of a mutual love, they could never be one-that their paths must be widely apart—that Rachel was by her own confession another's, not his.

He had come up to London, yielding to a sort of restless desire to see her-hear her speak-listen to her voice as she read to Linda, and determined also to be as ever firm and uncompromising with himself, and never to risk giving Rachel a moment's sorrow or pain. So habitual it was to this man to live out of himself and for others, that even in his love he was entirely unselfish—and of how few men and women can this be said!

After luncheon Mr. Buchanan went out into the London world as we see it in May. He called on several friends, strolled down the Park, where the gay throng was disporting itself, and on his return saw that the "Hymn of Praise" and a selection from Mozart were advertised for that evening at Exeter Hall.

In those days, the first Crystal Palace had only just begun to be spoken of as a visionary scheme, and the great musical gatherings under the glass dome of Sydenham were in the far future.

"I must hear the 'Hymn of Praise,'" he said. “I wonder if she will like to hear it too, and whether she will go with me if I ask her. If there were a third person to come also, her love of music would bring her: she may not like to be alone with me-still, I will try."

It was therefore in the most unconcerned manner tliat Mr. Buchanan mentioned the "Hymn of Praise" at dinner, and Linda came to his assistance.

"Ah! Rachel, that is the Lobgesang you wanted to hear so much. Uncle Maurice, will you take Rachel? Please do."

Rachel turned away her head towards Linda's couch, which was placed with its little sliding table in the corner of the room.

"I have left you so much to-day, Linda; you can't want to get rid of me again."

"Oh! but you must go," Linda said with feverish excitement; "you told me only the other day that you did so want to hear that music and the 'Elijah.' Uncle Maurice, make her go !"

"Yes, indeed," Miss Buchanan said; "I should be glad to know you had such a pleasure. You had better go, Rachel."

It seemed better to yield, and Rachel said that she should like it if Miss Buchanan could spare her. Rachel never for a moment allowed any one to forget that she was, by her own wish, Linda's governess and companion, although she never intruded it to the embarrassment of others, as some people who occupy a subordinate position have a provoking way of doing on all occasions.

"My dear, I am only too glad you should go. Will you order a fly, Maurice ?"

"I thought of walking," he said, "for the reserved places are, I dare say, taken, and I prefer being further