depressed about Laura's affairs, for the Hopleys still refused to receive or forgive their son. He persisted in his disinclination to work, and yet the pittance upon which he subsisted was likely to be still further taxed by the burden of a family. Laura's state was a constant source of nervousness and complaint to her mother. At the same time she was perpetually struggling to supply her with comforts, which Eve considered could ill be spared from Mordaunt's frugal board. At last the event took place, and Mr. Hopley wrote pathetically to his father, announcing the birth of a son. But the old man was accustomed to the acquisition of grandchildren, and was not in the least astonished or softened by this addition to their number.

'My dear Eve,' said a welcome note which arrived soon after from Mrs. Sackville, have returned from the visit to Devonshire, of

I

which you wot, and as my husband seems spellbound by the dear old Welsh dame, I find myself very desolate. I want you to come to me, whilst your mother is with Laura; and tell her, with my love, that as soon as she can safely leave her and her child, I expect her to join you at the Heath. How long it is since

she promised to visit me! I saw Miss Desborough yesterday, who spoke much of you, and has only been deterred from claiming you as her guest by the helpless state of poor Mr. Carisbroke. He has not been so well, and monopolises all her time and attention.'

Mrs. Sackville did not add that Sir Mark had told her he had called lately, once or twice, on business at Mordaunt's cottage, and thought Miss Cuthbert looking very worn and ill. Oh! the peace and comfort of the Heath after the turmoil of home! How grateful it was to the sorrowful girl! At first she was inclined to lie down and sleep all day in that quiet atmosphere; but gradually the colour returned to her cheek, and something of the smile to her lip. Every one there petted and spoiled her; even Sir Mark brought her books and flowers, and asked her, in return, to play to him. A very pleasant request; she was so glad to try and show her earnest gratitude to him.

The last week of Mordaunt's stay in Wales was come. Upon the Friday he was to return, and on the Wednesday Eve and her mother were to go home and prepare for his reception. Mrs. Cuthbert had been at the Heath for several

days, and Eve's spirits were not improved by the infliction; for every moment which she passed with her alone was engrossed by listening to her list of troubles-Laura's debility, her husband's peevishness, his father's cruelty, the strange silence of Sir Mark as to Mordaunt's future prospects, the difficulties which might be before them, the almost certainty of finding that the servant in whose care their cottage remained had robbed them-perhaps most harassing of all, the petty ebullitions of envy of all around her, which, even in the bounties good Mrs. Sackville strove to lavish upon them, found food for detraction and jealousy. How was it possible always to restrain her restless impatience as she listened to these tirades?

Oh! Eve Cuthbert, is this the way in which you sympathize with your poor mother's trials? Such a mother as I have been to you, and yet to reap such ingratitude!'

'Mamma, I did not speak.'

'Speak! no, better if you had, instead of looking as you did. as you did. I wonder if Mrs. Sackville and Miss Desborough encourage such looks in a child. I will tell you what it is, your head is turned by them.'

'Oh, mamma, spare me all these—

'Spare you! yes, you must be spared everything. I must toil, and strive, and mourn, and never open my lips, that you may be able to smile and sing, and be a fine lady. Better if you recollected your catechism. What does it say? 'Honour thy father and mother.' Go away with you, Eve Cuthbert, and sleep if you can, with that wicked, ungrateful spirit in your heart.'

'Mamma, I am sorry

'What's the use of being sorry, I wonder? The evil is done. I shall never forget that look. Sorrow is of no use. I know what your sorrow is. Don't stay here to trouble

me any longer.'

It was Tuesday night. Eve went into her own room, and sat down in a tumult of indignation and grief. She felt herself unjustly treated, was disgusted at this coarse reviling, wearied by the constant annoyance; and yet her affectionate heart clung to, not her real mother, but her idea of what a mother should be. In truth, by violence and flattery, alternately exercised, Mrs. Cuthbert possessed an all-powerful influence over her. She might be petulant and careless, but in greater matters

her obedience was unfailing. A colder nature than Eve's would have felt her present troubles less acutely; but she had within her the capacity for being the fondest and best of daughters, if her mother had but been a little more worthy of esteem. There are few heavier trials than the being unable to give our love and reverence where they are due.

For a long time her emotion was unmanageable. She wept and sobbed in mingled despair and passion.

Mine is a hard lot,' she said, wringing her hands in anguish. What can I do? Oh! for peace, for peace.'

She rose at last, when the paroxysm had worn itself away, and yearned for a kindly word even from her who had so wounded her. She would go and ask pardon. She stole out of her room and into her mother's. Mrs. Cuthbert lay fast asleep, perfectly satisfied with having put down her daughter's airs, and wholly unable to appreciate the agony she had inflicted. Eve gazed on the hard, coarse, handsome features, and went back in silence.

'There is no help there. What can I do?' she said, again, as she lay down upon her bed,