Why not? Mr. Hopley asked, pettishly; for in truth he was indulging in small schemes of mortifying the mother, who sometimes held up her grander son-in-law to him in terms of invidious comparison.

'Because,' Laura answered, slowly, 'she would not rest a night without writing to Eve on the subject. I am sure we need not wish to trouble the poor girl with it one hour sooner than is absolutely necessary—and depend on it, mamma would not be the one to tell the tidings pleasantly.'

'Pshaw!' Mr. Hopley observed, carelessly; 'you are preciously careful about that little affected sister of yours. Why must she be wrapped up from every breath of annoyance? She has had her full share of the world's good, why not of the evil?'

'Very well,' Laura continued, coldly, with a slight rigidity of the muscles of the mouth, quite lost upon the husband, whose nature she thoroughly knew and despised. 'I would not dictate to you, only mamma will certainly report you as her informant, and Sir Mark is not a man who would enjoy rumours as to his credit. But you would not mind, I dare say, his knowing you were the tale-bearer.'

Calm and low, and indifferently uttered, was her last sentence. Her husband never suspected its sarcasm; but, as she had intended, he was struck by its force. He never could say two words before Sir Mark Philipson, and to account to him for being the bearer of these reports would have been a severe ordeal.

For one week, interminable-seeming to her, Laura abstained from visiting her mother, but her anxiety about her sister became wearing. Just as Mrs. Cuthbert was soliloquising on the miseries of her fate, as the most neglected parent in the world, and the while pouring out a cup of excellent tea for her own refreshment, the door opened, and Laura and her little boy walked in.

Mrs. Cuthbert barely noticed the intrusion; she was inclined to affect forgetfulness of the identity of a daughter who could leave her for ten days without a visit; but the urchin, who clung to her knee, and lisped his greetings to grandmamma, was more difficult to repulse.

She tried hard to frown upon him; and unluckily her dark, well-defined eyebrows, were too used to the operation to find it impossible.

'Is gan'ma coss, mamma?' asked the asto

nished boy, in a too audible whisper, as he retreated to his mother's side.

'Really, Laura, the child is unbearably spoilt, and impertinent,' exclaimed ganʼmamma, in an angry voice.

Silence once broken, even by scolding, it was difficult to avoid further conversation, especially when Laura was so soothing in her inquiries, so respectful in manner-new and precious qualities in her bold nature.

'Indeed,' she added, quietly, 'I should rather come here to be cheered than to cheer-so calm and fresh the cottage looks-after my smoke-dried, noisy home. I've been troubled by my servants, wearied by the children, fretted by my relations-dear mamma, forgive any seeming omission, and give me the comfort of two or three pleasant hours with you.'

Mrs. Cuthbert was mollified; she passed her hand over her daughter's cheek, and secretly thought it more faded than her own.

'Poor child! well, I dare say you have your worries. You have not such a bed of roses as some people, or I think would be more

attentive to me.'

you

Laura coloured, but in no other way noticed the allusion.

You have heard from Lady Philipson, I presume?' Mrs. Cuthbert said, stiffly, swelling out the title partly in bitterness, partly because it was her habit.

'Not lately,' Laura replied; 'you know she has very little to tell us; and what with letters to her husband, and her care of his mother, she has no time.'

'Nonsense, Laura! as if the servants could not wait well enough upon the old woman, or as if he cared for the letters! He cares for no one but himself. He has only called upon me once since Eve went away.

patience with Eve.'

I have no

'That's not her fault,' Laura said, quickly. 'Yes, it is; why does not she insist upon his paying me proper respect?'

'Oh, mamma!'

It was an involuntary tone of deep reproach, for Laura saw mentally the sister whose happiness was wrecked, and the disappointed husband, who yet was so generous and forbearing to the woman who had in some sense ensnared him.

'If I were properly treated,' Mrs. Cuthbert continued, wrapping herself majestically in a splendid shawl (Sir Mark's gift), 'I should

now be presiding at Whitefield in Eve's absence. Who so proper to fill her place? Or why am I not invited by that proud old Welshwoman to go down and visit her?'

'Because, dear mamma, you know she never even saw you; and when she is so weak, how could she entertain you properly?—indeed it would be too much for her.'

'Laura, Eve is not so weak, and Eve has seen me before.'

'Yes; but if she had to amuse you and enjoy your society, as she ought to do, she could not devote herself half so much to Mrs. Philipson, which certainly is the great object of her being there at all.'

Certainly, Mrs. Hopley, of course I am wrong and they are right. It's impossible to make you see the proper duties people owe me. You are as bad as Mordaunt.'

'Where is he?'

́Oh! like every one else, immaculate, I suppose; he cannot err, although to be sure he leaves a poor desolate woman alone perpetually. It's all business, he says, when he comes home late in the evening, and starts away at early hours in the morning; but, Laura, I have

doubts. Why such a sudden accession