turned away his face, and did not speak again for an hour or more. He who valued Jane so highly, why should he shrink from the obligation ? Eve could not quite comprehend, but she saw he was pained, and that was enough. 'What can I do to help him, to save him from these humiliations?-what can I do?' That question followed her everywhere like the burden of some wild old ballad: when she awoke, it rose into her heart; when she lay down at night, it weighed upon her like some poisonous dew. At work, or when she read, it was before her; and every note of her music ran into that sad wail. He was better now; but oh ! would he ever perfectly recover? How could they feel certain that his strength would suffice when he returned to his labours?

He was well enough to have an interview with Sir Mark. Eve could not but linger in the passage in case her services should be needed. He might be faint.

'Would Sir Mark please to make it a short visit?'

Sir Mark smiled on her pleasantly, and went slowly into the sick man's room. She was standing there, revolving that weary inquiry as to her own powers of assistance, when he came

out again, more moved than she could have believed possible.

'He is greatly altered,' was the first involuntary exclamation; but,' he added, more gaily, 'what could I expect after so many weeks of suffering-have I not watched their course as the shadows crept along your face, where only the sunbeams should fall?'

A simile from Sir Mark! Eve looked up, surprised; looked down again, confused, and startled.

He wants change,' continued Sir Mark, abruptly, turning to take up his whip, and I have been proposing that he should go to Wales, to my mother. She is much interested in him, and would be glad to have him under her roof. He might see as much or as little of her as he liked, and you would be certain of his safety with her. I want to send down a carriage to her next week, which I fancy will suit those roads better than what she has. If he would travel in it, it would be easier and better for him. Try and reconcile him to the plan, and I will carry out the details. He must make it his first duty to get well as soon as possible.'

'Oh! Sir Mark !'

Not even a

thank you,' would come now; apparently he did not wish it, for in an instant he had bowed and taken his departure.

She went in hastily to Mordaunt.

'He is kindness itself,' he said, huskily; 'but, Eve, he did not speak of the appointment. It cannot have been kept vacant all this time for me.'

The light in her eyes was instantly quenched by anxious tears. Mordaunt saw them, and was conscience-stricken.

'Eve, we are wrong. We should trust

more !'

She turned away; she could not do that.

CHAPTER VI.

I remember, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn.
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day;
But now I often wish the night

Had borne my breath away!

HOOD.

ORDAUNT could no longer hesitate to

MOR

accept Sir Mark's offer when it was seconded by a kind, quaint note from the old lady herself; wherein she mentioned that she had taken this opportunity of pressing an old invitation again upon a mutual friend, and that Mr. Sackville would be his companion on his journey, and during his stay.

Mrs. Cuthbert, indeed, expressed her surprise at any person's imagining an invalid could derive benefit from a winter visit to Wales; but Eve reminded her that Mordaunt needed bracing, not a milder climate, and that Sir Mark had assured her the hills were as beautiful at that season as in summer,

So they packed Mordaunt into the warm, easy carriage, placed him under Mr. Sackville's especial charge, and soon had the satisfaction of hearing of his safe arrival, and great enjoyment of the change. Nothing could exceed Mrs. Philipson's kindness.

Here was at length an opportunity of carrying out her long-cherished wish of comforting the 'poor boy,' as she persisted in calling him to herself. When once she knew him personally, the interest deepened. At first she left him chiefly to Mr. Sackville; but day after day she had longer conversations with him, saw more into his character, and heard with pleasure of his tastes and feelings of his little Eve, more particularly.

Poor Eve, around her the shadows of life were deepening. It had been fatiguing to nurse Mordaunt through such a prolonged illness; it was even more sad to be without him now. At home, for the first time, deprived of his companionship, it was almost more than she could bear. It was long before she ceased to listen for his voice calling her name; fifty times a day she went mechanically into his room and gazed on the vacant sofa. Mrs. Cuthbert was in a perverse mood. She was