'Instead of living quietly, and perhaps adopting some pretty young girl, to whom she might have bequeathed a comfortable independence-Eve, for instance. Now, how much more womanly, prudent, and decorous that would have been, instead of-oh! really, I can't bear to think of such a thing.'

'Of course, you know,' replied Mordaunt, smiling, it is natural that we should fancy Eve more deserving of wealth than Mr. Sackville, but she scarcely needs it more; and we will hope she may have a brighter fate before her, whereas he had no long time left wherein to be happy and prosperous. Besides, I really think his age and mind make him a more suitable companion to Miss Lomax than our little Eve.'

'Really, Mordaunt, you are infatuated to speak so. Ah! I am bitterly disappointed in Mr. Sackville. I never dreamt of his marrying— I thought him quite safe in that respect. Dear me, it makes one feel very strange now, and throws an odd light over many words and scenes, and—it makes one's blood run cold to remember how one treated him, just like a brother or a father, or—and yet one was so mistaken.'

My dear Mrs. Cuthbert,' Mordaunt began,

in some astonishment and haste to vindicate his friend-but he stopped; he had intended to say, 'rely upon it he never regarded you with anything like love'-but it struck him as a dangerous speech. Who likes to be told they never could be loved, even by a person despised? And yet he must defend his friend. Rely upon it,' he added, finally, that for the last eight years Mr. Sackville's allegiance has never wandered from his present wife.'

'Oh! Mordaunt, how ridiculous you are! To imagine he loves her! A woman like that!'

'Even so,' said Mordaunt, firmly. 'Why, what is there about her so unloveable? Is it her firm sense, her even temper, her candour, her warm, generous heart? Or even to come to lower grounds, is there anything repellant in her fine brown eyes?'

'Mordaunt, you speak as if you would have married her yourself,' said Eve, quietly.

6

Eve, how can you speak so childishly? Light the candles, and let us go to bed,' cried Mrs. Cuthbert, precipitantly, for any possible or impossible wife for Mordaunt was to her like Medusa's head.

So they went to bed, all rather sobered down and tranquil.

IT

CHAPTER II.

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free;
The holy time is quiet as a nun

Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquillity.

WORDSWORTH.

T was scarcely to be expected that the lustre of that evening should continue to shine Mordaunt's path. His new career, once upon encountered, was found to present many discomforts, considerable labour, and some vexations; and yet, on the whole, he was not disappointed. These were all drawbacks inseparable from his lot, and were amply compensated by other advantages. He had a good master, and he began to take, for the first time, an interest in his occupation. There was a certain grandeur in all the commercial operations which had for him a charm.

He liked the world-wide reputation of the House, the broad principles upon which its business was conducted; he began to sympathize with the pride and pleasure in its

it

magnitude which induced Sir Mark to carry on, although it had long since realized for him. such riches. What was even more, he learned to regard Sir Mark himself with more warmth than he often felt towards others. They were thrown into daily contact; and though their intercourse was almost entirely limited to matters of business, yet he saw or fancied that Sir Mark looked upon him differently from others. Something in the tone, the glance, the manner, impossible to define, yet intuitively perceived, marked that difference. He owed, perhaps, a little of it to Jane's introduction, but more to his own character. Sir Mark read men quickly-possibly that was why he cared so little for them generally-why he appreciated them so thoroughly when he descried no blot upon the page. In this instance, when he listened quietly to Mordaunt's clear explanations, or raised his glance to his open countenance, he sometimes, nay, very often, remembered Jane Desborough's tearful eyes, and liked her friend none the less for that tribute of emotion.

At home there was a change. Lime-tree Cottage was to be swept away by the march of improvement, and give place to a large

charitable institution. The household gods must be packed up and transported to some other shelter. Mrs. Cuthbert wanted to move towards town-Eve looked, on the contrary, wistfully towards the green fields-and Mordaunt sympathized with the inclination. His own heart followed it eagerly in the direction of Carisbroke. Quite Carisbroke was impossible; but they went a mile or two further into Kent, and secured a cottage, even smaller than the last, but with a bright little garden round it, or at least one which promised to be bright in

summer.

6 The shrubs are so thick and tall that I don't think any one could see me working in it, could they?' asked Eve, anxiously.

In her inmost heart perhaps she scarcely cared to be so much nearer Carisbroke. And yet she felt she was ignoble and ungrateful, and shrank from the kind tones of Jane's voice when she expressed her pleasure at the diminution of the distance. They had much cause to grieve for Laura: already their limited means had been taxed to supply some of her increasing wants; and yet her absence from their home was to Eve and Mordaunt an unacknowledged but perceptible relief.

Mrs. Cuthbert was cloud