safest anchor in the sunny prospect that opens before you, will be never to forget, 'Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.""

wwww

CHAPTER VII.

WHEN Mark was introduced in the conservatory a few months only were wanting to his majority.

"I suppose," said Mrs. Ellison, one morning, before he left the breakfast-room, "I suppose we must accept Mr. Kingley's usual invitation to spend our Christmas-day at the Manor-house. Another year, Mark, you will have your Christmas to keep at home; and as this is the last time, perhaps "

"Oh! how tiresome!" interrupted Flora. I do so dislike those dull formal days at the Manor-house, when one has to listen to the Justice's worn-out stories. He has but three I think, and I know them all by heart."

"You forget the good dinner, Flora, and the renowned fish-sauce."

"I'm tired of the good dinner, though there was a time when the choice sweetmeats and confectioneries were a kind of compensatory refuge for the dulness of other things. Then there's such a regiment of his relations, all so obsequious-all trying to seem delighted with the old stories, though I can see they can hardly help yawning before the Justice's face."

"Perhaps, Flora, you'll have less reluctance to go, when I tell you that this regiment is to be headed by a captain." "What is Captain Kingley in England, and will he be there? That is delightful!"

"Yes," said Mrs. Ellison; "Mr. Kingley writes that the Captain is to be his guest for some weeks."

"Then, dear mamma, do pray let us accept the invitation, by all means; this makes it altogether a different thing."

"Flora," said Mark, looking kindly on the bonny, joyous expression of his sister's bright face, "I do believe you have a strong tendency to be a flirt."

Flirt, indeed!" and she turned away with a pout on her pretty lip; then throwing her arm round Mark's neck, and putting her head on his shoulder-"Oh! Mark, you are a dear, kind brother--I love you very much, but pray don't think me a flirt!"

At that moment it would have been impossible for Mark to think her anything but the most lovely, fascinating little creature he had ever seen.

Mrs. Ellison had been reading letters.

"There is a letter," she said, "from Mrs. Herbert Ellison, declining to spend Christmas with us.”

"I am very glad," said Flora, "very glad indeed that Mrs. Herbert Ellison is not coming."

Mark looked grave.

"Now don't look displeased, Mark, for I can't help being glad. I'm sure she does not care a pin for any one of us; and she never comes but when-"

Mrs. Ellison interrupted her.

Hush, Flora! you must not-indeed, I cannot allow you to speak in this way"

But Flora would not hush.

"I did hope, mamma, that after the death of the poor little baby we should have had nothing more to do with her. I shall never forget how she treated all your kindness—indeed, I'm sure we were all as kind to her as it was possible to be, and yet she behaved to Mark as though he had done her some great injury. Indeed, mamma, I was obliged to be always remembering that she had been my poor brother's

wife to prevent my disliking her very much. And as for that poor little baby, I don't think she cared for it at all; for if she had cared, she could never have written such a letter as she did write while the poor little thing was lying dead before her. Nobody could write about the setting sunbeams playing on the dead face of any one they loved, if they really felt what they were trying to describe."

"My dear Flora," said Mark, "we should be cautious how we judge the feelings of others by our own; and particularly cautious how we condemn them for not feeling as we think that we, under similar circumstances, should have felt ourselves."

"I know all that, Mark; and I know that people do feel very differently; and that, though they may show their feelings in different ways, it is no proof that they do not feel equally as much as we do. I know that some people cry when they are in sorrow-that others can't cry at all; that some find relief in talking, and that others could not talk; but never—no, never-will I believe it possible that they who deeply feel the loss of those they love can sit down and write circumstantial details, and introduce fanciful imagery, while the lost one is lying dead before them."

Mark was silent, though he could not but admit the truth of what Flora had said.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE Christmas party at the Manor-house had, year after year, continued to decrease; so that now the only resident guests were Captain Kingley, the Justice's nephew, and his two grandnieces, Miss Grimshaw, and her sister, Miss Jemima.

The travellers had had long journeys, and when

they arrived the evening was far advanced, so that they had tea without changing their travelling-dresses, and were glad to retire early. When the Miss Grimshaws went into their room, Jemima drew her chair to the fire, and putting her feet on the fender, seemed disposed for a chat; her sister also drew forward a chair, and made herself comfortable.

"Wherever did that Helen spring from?" said Miss Jemima. "I see at once what she's after, with her wheedling ways. Did you notice how she hovered about uncle, and how she watched him, and how she listened, ready to pounce in a word, and looking as though there was no business in life so important as to do his bidding ?" Yes," answered her sister; "but what roused me most of all was that she spoke to us to me-in a patronising way that put me past patience. I didn't care for her to see it, for I quite snatched away the candlestick which she offered in such a provoking way."

66

"But how is it," continued Jemima-" how comes it that she is located here, and we never to have heard anything about her?"

I fancy," said Miss Grimshaw, "that she must be some distant connexion of uncle's."

"Maitland!" exclaimed Jemima; "Maitland! I am sure I never heard the name before; she cannot be any connexion."

"Maitland!" echoed Miss Grimshaw; "no, that was not the name; but I do remember hearing—a long long time ago— of some relation of uncle's who disappeared very suddenlyof somebody who went to America, I think; but it's so long ago that I have forgotten the particulars; yet I do remember mother talking about it to somebody, and though I was a child, children often hear and see what they think about years afterwards."

"Well," said Jemima, "whatever she may be, she's not

been long in finding the shortest road to uncle's favour, that's clear; and did you observe her servility to Mrs. Kingley, and how cleverly she patched up her broken sentences, sliding her words in here, there, and everywhere? That girl knows what she's about, that she does."

There was a gentle knock.

"Come in," said Jemima, then, remembering that she had turned the key, she advanced to open the door. It was Helen, who, with conciliatory smile, had come to ask if they would like some hot elderberry wine, or some sago. She was sure they must want something before going to bed after their long journey. The inquiry was made in a voice so very gentle, that the "No" which answered it had rather an ungracious sound.

"As if," said Jemima, after having once more closed the door, and turned the key with an expression that could not be mistaken, as if we could not have what we like in our own uncle's house without her!"

66

It is Christmas-day; the party from Forest Hall have arrived, and Aunt Rebecca is with them. All the guests are assembled in the drawing-room. Mrs. Kingley is most condescendingly gracious, and listens with delight to the flattering compliments of the young Captain, who assures her upon his honour she is looking ten years younger, and, if possible, positively handsomer than when he saw her last, two years ago. The Justice smiles approvingly, and says"Why, yes, I do think time has not touched Mrs. Kingley yet; and, my dear," he added, glancing round for approbation of the sentiment, "may you for many years to come continue to drive, and not to be driven by time."

The dinner is announced.

"Now, Captain," said the Justice, "you will conduct Mrs. Ellison; and you, Mr. Mark, will please to take one of these ladies; Mrs. Kingley and I will lead the way. Come, my