CHAPTER VIII.

Ar length Mary's husband, the worthy, plainmannered, plain-spoken Mr. Phillips, returned.

He had been attending a valued friend and noble patron in Ireland, where the precarious health of his patient had detained him for an unusual length of time; and he now returned, his cheerful spirits rendered more cheerful by the happy success which had crowned his judicious exertions, and his narrow purse well filled by its recompence, to take Mary and his children

away.

The meeting between this worthy man and

his affectionate wife; the pride with which Mary, arrayed in her most becoming dress, presented her little ones, whom she had been curling, and combing, and dressing half the afternoon, to their father-the honest exultation of the father in his treasures-the plain and hearty sense of happiness and self-respect which sat upon his countenance-all these were to Charles a refreshing relief from his present uneasy feelings. He loved to see happiness-he loved to see genuine, unsophisticated happiness-and he loved simplicity and truth, and there were all these in the manner of this worthy pair to each other.

The scene pleased Louisa too. It struck no answering chord to pain her heart. Her love for Lord William-the enjoyment she had experienced from his society, and even from his very presence, was so exquisite, so refined, so unlike anything which she could conceive as

belonging either to Mary or to her husband, that she gazed without any of those regrets which the best must feel, when called upon to witness the joys lost for them-and to look at happiness through other people's eyes.

Mr. Phillips, like all the rest of the family, was excessively fond of Louisa, and, as she put her hand in his, he looked in her face, and said

"How's this, Louisa?-you are not well." "Only a little nervous," said she, trying to laugh.

"That is a very foolish way of talking, begging your pardon," said he, gravely, “because it means two very different things; either a very weak indulgence of very faulty feelings-or one of the most terrible inflictions with which it hath pleased the Almighty to visit his creatures: in the first and common sense of the word, I am will never be nervous, Louisa; from the

sure you

second, may God preserve you," added he, in a lower voice.

When Louisa and Mary were gone up stairs to put the children to bed, Charles, turning to his friend, said, with an air very gravely anxious,

"I hope, Mr. Phillips, you will not think me impertinent in begging of you to pay very particular attention to Louisa. I do not like to alarm her father, or to increase the fears of Mary; but I suspect that something must be very much amiss with her; and if she be still free from disease, that she will not long continue so."

Mr. Phillips looked rather surprised at the gravity, approaching to formality, with which Charles spoke, and said,

"Charles, I had expected, before this time, that you would have thought yourself perfectly justified in asking any question you thought

proper about Louisa-aye, and in offering me my fee too," opening his hand.

Charles looked distressed.

"Well, well, that's it, is it?-I say no more; but I quite agree with you-something is very much amiss with Louisa, and her looks make me as anxious as yourself; but I will watch her well to-day and to-morrow-for I will stay here to-morrow for that express purpose—and I shall by that time be able to discover whether there is anything very seriously the matter. Take no notice to my dear Mary of what I have said: even that good creature has the woman's infirmity; I don't suppose she could keep a secret from her sister to save all our lives. I wish Louisa to be without the least suspicion of my intention; and I am sorry I made the remark I did."

Mr. Phillips was as good as his word. He