and I like to hear him talk and to see him look as he did. It is not so at home. Oh! he must be unhappy at home! What can I do? -what can I do, indeed-so absurd as I am! I had not even self-possession enough to behave properly this evening. It was certainly very silly, but I was so nervous, and I felt myself colour whenever any one addressed me. And then I could have played so much better than that! By the way, why did they press me to go on so long? I am sure Sir Mark hated it. He never once said he liked music. How weary he must have been! I hope he wont come again whilst I am here.'

But there was no escaping from his presence in that house. Next day they were at church twice, and as their pew adjoined his, she saw him there, sitting in the corner she used herself

to occupy as a child. Well did she remember

those days of inattention and rebellion, when she would always insist upon being taken to church, and once there, wearied excessively of the service, played with the marker in her mother's prayer-book, or the tassels on the cushions, or coaxed her father to lift her up upon the seat, and thence surveyed the congregation in the various attitudes of attention or

inattention.

She almost fancied she could feel now the gentle clasp of her father's arm around her, so tenderly afraid lest she should fall; she recollected how, now and then, when he had seemed abstracted in prayer, she had pressed herself into his arms and lifted up her tiny face to his, jealous that anything could engross him or render him unobservant of her. The heavy tears dropped now upon her book, and she closed her eyes that she might not see that corner seat with the pillar, every rib of which she knew, and the little ledge where her father's book had rested. Sir Mark followed them down the aisle, and they all walked home together. It was always so. There was no difference in any way, except that Eve was on that side which was otherwise blank or filled by his mother. They were all grave and silent. Eve would have grieved had she known that the trace of her tears was quite perceptible; but no one-not even Sir Mark-liked her the less for that sign of emotion. They saw Jane, but only for a very short time.

daunt returned home.

On Monday, MorEve's spirits slightly

sank, and Mrs. Sackville began to tremble.

'We must apply a decided remedy at once,'

she whispered to her husband.

'Order a side

saddle on the grey horse, and I will borrow a habit from Jane this morning, so you can take her out in the afternoon. She is passionately fond of riding.'

Of course she was, although she would rather not have been indebted to Jane for the habit, and was rather discontented with the fit when she put it on. But Mrs. Sackville and her maid pinned it over, and hid all defects by such a pretty fanciful scarf, that when she looked at herself in the glass she could not help smiling.

"May I come in?' said a gentle voice; and there stood Miss Desborough, looking kind and cheerful. 'I see what has been the matter,' she added, pointing to the scarf. I am not so sylph-like as you are, Eve.'

'You are so tall, and I am such a dwarf,' returned Eve, glancing up at her despondingly. 'Now don't you think,' exclaimed Mrs. Sackville, 'that this very defect has been turned to good account, and that the dress looks prettier than if we had not required the scarf? Ah, Miss Desborough, I know the little smile on your lips-do you see a moral in this ?'

'Do you fancy I am always looking out for

morals? What a pedantic creature I must be ! but I will confess I did think just then how often our misfortunes turn out for our benefit. Could you desire anything more trite?'

'Scarcely. I will forgive you, however, because you are so kind in coming to see Eve; it is my fault that she was not at Carisbroke this morning.'

And now, as Mrs. Sackville turned away for a moment, Eve stood, playing with her whip, and hesitating. It was some little time since she had seen Jane, and many benefits had accumulated upon her since then. At last she broke silence. 'I am dressed in your habit, and there lies my gown, which was your gift, and at home our garden is full of your flowers, our shelves with-'

But her mouth was stopped by the quick pressure of Jane's hand, and her face was flushed painfully.

'Eve, you could not wound me more than by trying to thank me so. Don't check off my little acts of friendship, as if we kept a debtor and creditor account.

enough to give me pleasure.'

Be generous

'But how can I ever repay you?'

'Oh, Eve! you disappoint me when you

speak so. There is no question of obligation when people love each other; if there were, it could not be more fully settled than by my seeing you the happier, and thinking you believe and trust in my affection.'

Eve wondered at the humble tone-the genuine feeling; she knew she could not herself have so easily shaken off the consciousness of being a benefactress. She was shocked and ashamed that clouds of jealousy so often distorted in her mind that beautiful image. She half fancied Jane knew that it was so, and yet loved, pitied, and enriched her. There was something of this tender compassion and yearning in her glance even now; and, unable to resist it, with a sudden impulse Eve threw her arms round her, hid her face on her bosom, and murmured—' Oh, how good you are!—oh, that I could be like you! but it is impossible. How can you love me if you really know me?'

'I am afraid,' Jane replied, kindly, that we should none of us either love or be loved, if we only loved the perfect. I like you, Eve, with all your faults-not because I do not see them, but because I know we are all frail beings, struggling with a thousand temptations,