the other hand, all his prospects in life depended upon his success at college; how he should, as he fully believed, do nothing there unless his mind and heart were at ease; how, if he felt that it was for his wife he was working, he should do everything in the world; and, lastly, how all his fine prospects would be ruined should their marriage be known to others before the end of at least three years. In a word, he argued, she would destroy him if she refused to marry him at once, and ruin him if she did not marry him secretly. Of course he urged all this in a far more lover-like manner; but this is what it all came to.

Not only was Marie singularly poor in friends, but if she had had troops of them, their united opinion would not have weighed a feather, or rather a tuft of down, against the wish of Mark. Besides, the proposal itself was made, as it were, under the seal of confession. Still she could not help feeling, in spite of her ignorance of the world's ways, that somehow she had been asked to do what was not right. She would have been content to wait for twenty years why should not he? And so, almost to his anger, she did for once show very nearly the spirit of a mouse, and gained time to think.

But even so does the mouse gain time to think when the cat suffers her for a moment to get a few inches away from his inevitable claws. Marie did think, or rather fancied that she thought; and this was what all her thinking came to.

this matter too, she, as a matter of course, followed the advice of her heart.

As to how and where the ceremony that was to make them husband and wife was to be performed, there was but little real difficulty. Mark Warden was not likely to be conquered, by mere details.

In Denethorp secrecy would have been impossible, and but little less in Redchester. But in the neighbouring county, some thirty miles away, was the large and important city of B where a man might do many more difficult things than getting married without a soul being the wiser. Mark Warden, some few weeks before the beginning of the Cambridge term, found out that he wanted a tutor for mathematics. He told his father so, who, as usual, thought that whatever his son did was all right, and who, in fact, never thought of actively interfering with his children so long as what they wanted to do did not interfere with his own momentary comfort. He therefore scarcely listened when Mark went on to say that he must find the required help at B Indeed he would have been much more interested had he been told that it was likely to be a wet day. As to expense, the scholarship was henceforth to cover everything for ever. He happened to have a little money by him just then; and so he gave his son a few guineas, on a sort of semi-understanding that he was never to be asked for any money again, and, if the truth were known, was not very much grieved when the house was left once more to himself and Lorry; Self-denial was with her a habit. To for Mark had come to take not over-kindly please any one she loved she would willingly to his shiftless ways and acquaintances of have jumped from the top of the churchtower; to save her lover there was absolutely nothing that she would not have done. Every word that he, in his wisdom, had said to her she believed implicitly. How or why should she not? And she could not, when she came to reason, seriously think that what he wished her to do could be really wrong. If to do what he asked her involved self-sacrifice, why, so much the better. And then, after all, to conceal what she meant to do from others would cost no effort and no shame. Her shyness, beyond the surface of which no eye but his had cared to penetrate, had grown into an artificial reserve that was none the less a part of her now for having but little to do with her real nature. No one ever caring to know her thoughts and feelings, she had acquired a habit of not telling them; and as no one ever asked her questions about what she did or where she went, she naturally assumed that no one cared. Though not selfconfident she was self-sufficing; and so in

the bar parlour. So the future Fellow of St. Margaret's went to stay for a while in B - and in the beginning of October, when all was arranged, sent Marie enough money to bring her there too.

Then, it is true, she felt frightened at what she was going to do; and she would have given anything to have been able to draw back. But it was certainly too late now. So, with much sinking at the heart and much confusion, she made a half-true excuse for going over to Redchester. Thence she reached B. - in the forenoon; and from B - she returned home the very same evening.

Of course they had, to say the least of it, been guilty of a desperate piece of folly. But enough has now been said to show that, under the circumstances, their folly was not only natural, but almost a necessary consequence of their respective characters, and of the relation in which they respectively stood to each other and to those about them.

When the next morning came, Marie | which, being a man of pleasure and politics, found herself half proud, half frightened, to think that she was now a wife at least in law and in name; for what being a wife means she knew no more than two days ago. Her first unconscious feeling when she woke, was one of wonder that the world had not come to an end. She almost thought that she must have been dreaming; and she almost anxiously felt under her pillow for the ring that she was not allowed to wear. But in spite of the secret that filled her heart, the feeling with which she met her father was neither of fear nor of shame. Mark would be a great man one of these days; and, like the child she was, she looked forward to telling her father the news, when the time came to tell it, as a pleasant surprise. Her only really uncomfortable thought was, that she was not allowed to tell her friend Laura that they had become sisters. She was certainly terribly innocent.

But if her innocence had caused her to commit a great error, it had also stood her in good stead. After all,

"The surest panoply is innocence;" and so it had been with her.

In a day or two her husband in name and in law returned, and a day or two after that he came to bid her good-bye. It was a real parting; for at that time to go to Cambridge from so distant a place as Denethorp did not mean, at least in the case of a poor man who really intended to devote himself to the work of the place, to be absent for a few weeks at a time, and then to come home for weeks or months. It meant with Mark an almost unbroken absence of three years.

To him, with all his ambition and hope, the parting was full of pain. To her it meant almost desolation. But there was no help for it; and at the last moment, as he passed her window on his way to the coach, she bravely held back her tears for a moment in order that she might give him a smile of hope and encouragement, which made his old purpose seem faint indeed. He felt that to make her happy, and not himself great, must be his purpose now.

he had no taste. It was generally supposed that she had refused countless offers of marriage from countless suitors, who were attracted by her wealth or beauty, or both; and it was known that at about the age of four-and-twenty she had gone abroad with her aunt, a Mrs. Lester, whose husband was something in the diplomatic service. After some years she returned home again, and then both her father and herself took up their residence at Earl's Dene, where, very soon afterwards, Mr. Clare died. She was his only child and sole heir; and by the time that she came to the property, all her vague reputation for "oddness' had entirely passed away. She was a great lady; and she evidently intended to play out her role of great lady to the fullest extent. So successfully did she carry out her intention, that she very soon became regarded with an almost awful reverence by all within reach of her influence, and with rebellious dislike by those with whom she, as a staunch Tory and High Church woman, had long declared open war that is to say, by the reformers of the cloth-mills and the growing body of Dissenters. To those who acknowledged her authority she was generous and even kind; but to those who did not, she was certainly not kind, and could be very often ungenerous. She was, in fact, endowed with no little of that political asperity which has been said by a great politician to be as unbecoming to a woman as a beard. Her views about Church and State were both decided and practical, and, like the lady in Molière, what she wished she wished furiously.

But certainly these present views of hers would have desperately astonished those persons who remembered her youth, not in Denethorp, but in London, where it had been principally passed. These, too, had considered her odd, and with reason.

Nature had given her, beside her beautiful person, a precocious intelligence, an energetic mind, strong passions, quick feelings, a most excitable imagination, and an amount of obstinacy that, in so young a So much at present for these. Mean- woman, was perfectly appalling. Circumwhile, it must not be forgotten that there stance and education had given these danwas such a person in the world of Denethorp gerous qualities a peculiar direction. The as Miss Clare of Earl's Dene; and this must times in which she lived were peculiar, and be more especially borne in mind, as she she was, from her cradle, wrapped round was now, in fact, Denethorp's great lady. in an atmosphere of politics. Her father With her earlier life, as has already ap-lived for politics. In the circle in which peared, her Denethorp subjects were not he moved nothing but politics was talked very familiar. Her mother had died soon from morning till night. Politics formed after giving her birth, and she had been al- her whole idea of life and society. Being most constantly in London with her father, singularly impressible, and only too ready and scarcely ever at her country home, for to take an active interest in anything that

was brought before her notice, she caught the contagion fully. But, unhappily, hers was one of those minds that are never satisfied unless they are in chronic opposition to the general or predominant views taken by the world in which they move. Of course, this love of opposition for its own sake is anything but uncommon. But, while the Lydia Languishes of her age and acquaintance were dreaming of romantic elopements with impecunious ensigns simply because their friends wished them to marry sensibly and to be well off in the world, she was bent upon saying and doing things that made everybody stare, simply because her friends wished her to live the life of a conventional fine lady, and either not to think for herself at all, or else to think as she was told. It was certainly not that she in reality liked being a fine lady less, but that she loved opposition more. Had she been a woman of real genius or genuine independence of character, she would very likely have made a name for herself; but, as it was, she only got called names by the society in which she lived, which could not comprehend how an English girl of good family could even play at holding such strange and revolutionary notions as hers.

cause the greater share of her obstinacy was a part of her inheritance – was terribly annoyed, and even alarmed. It was certainly not a pleasant thing for him to hear the arguments of the "Political Justice" retailed openly at the head of his table before Cabinet Ministers; and those of the Natural History of Religion" before Bishops. He made the grave mistake of fancying that she might make a final display of her strange form of romance by perhaps running off with some democratic adventurer, just to prove her belief in the doctrine of universal equality that she might do worse than marry a penniless ensign, even if she cared to go through the ceremony of marriage at all. Of course, in fancying any such thing he only showed how little he understood her real character. Her republican ideas did not in the least affect her family pride, which was greater than his own. But the mistake, under the circumstances, was not unnatural; and he was accordingly only too delighted when, after many unpleasant domestic scenes, his wife's sister, Mrs. Lester, offered, for a time, to relieve him of this enfant terrible.

But, as has been said already, they became good friends again before he died; and woe now to any one who, in her presence, should drop a slighting word even of my Lord Castlereagh. Her opinions had changed, but not her nature. Nevertheless, with all her politics and all her narrowness, she was a very good woman in her way. She tried with all her strength to do what she thought was right, and she hated with all her soul what she thought was wrong. Doubtless she would have been a better woman still better, at least, as a woman - had it been her lot to have had children of her own upon whom to expend some of the spare energy of her nature. She had endeavoured to supply the want by adopting, not only as her heir, but as her son, the orphan grandchild of Mrs. Lester, who was now like Mark Warden, about to proceed to Cambridge.

The truth was, that, considering her character, there was nothing more strange in her holding these notions than there would have been in her holding the very opposite, had circumstances been different. She was simply wild, romantic in her own way, and ambitious of notoriety. Had her father and his set been the friends of Mr. Fox, she would, on the same principle, and with no more reason, have called herself a Tory of the extremest sort; but, as he and his friends were steady supporters of the Cabinet of that day, she was bound, in order to be in her natural state of opposition, to take up with the other extreme. Not only so, but her natural tendency to eccentricity, which, in her childhood, had led her to scorn dolls and to rebel against needlework, caused her, when she grew up, to affect a learned and philosophical contempt for the usual amusements and pursuits of her age and station. Her heroes were Washington and Lafayette; her authors, Godwin and Rousseau. She scribbled for nothing is quite perfect-no finer a little herself, both in wild prose and vapid place, no better estate, could well be found, verse, and even carried her speculations out of the hands of the peerage, in all Enginto regions to which a young and unmar-land. If, in addition to the enjoyment of ried woman is generally supposed not to its real advantages, its owner should take a possess the key. As may easily be im- fancy to have a handle to his name, he agined, her father who never had time to would have but to ask and to obtain. see very much of her, who was quite unable deed it was rather a matter of surprise in to control her, and who could not in the the neighbourhood that the late owner had least understand her, partly, no doubt, be- not done so. The artist could admire it

Certainly in every material sense the chosen heir of Earl's Dene was to be accounted one of fortune's favourites. With whatever faults or drawbacks it might have

In

From the Chinese Recorder.
SMALL FEET IN CHINA.

interdict on this essential of all female beauty. The richer the families, the earlier in life is the compression commenced. Like the long nails, small feet convey the idea of gentility and exemption from labour. The strength of this fashion may be judged of from the very poorest striving to conform to it. Fashion leads mothers not to neglect this part of the education of their daughters, however careless in other matters. Few girls are taught to read; almost all have their feet bound. Fashion must always prevail over convenience. Women ought never to appear in public; in state affairs they neither assist by their counsel, nor disturb by their ambition; and thus, to make this maxim more observed, they are taught that small feet constitute beauty, and the mother's first care, therefore, is to make her daughter fashionable by making her a cripple.

The fashionable size is about three inches, but oftener five, and sometimes seven. The size depends upon the time when it was begun, and the regularity and tightness with which it is maintained. The bandages are never left off; for, after the standard size has been obtained, they are still retained to keep the shape, and give strength to the foot.

THE Tartar women do not wear small feet, but shoes with a large square piece of wood in the middle of the sole. These, likewise, appear very inconvenient; but in wet weather or muddy streets, they raise the finely-embroidered satin slipper above danger. In Peking, the Tartar element is so strong that small feet are less frequently seen than in the south. The small foot, too, is much larger here. A milder form of compression, especially among the country people, exists; the four toes being bound under the foot, without changing the direction of the heel very much. Ladies in the south desire a three-inch foot; here they are content with a seven-inch. The Chinese have naturally very small hands and feet. The proximity of the largefooted Mongols and Mantchus, and the influence of the court, we have said, exert their influence here, and render possible the marriage of large-footed daughters to Mantchu husbands. It is illegal for the bannermen and Chinese to intermarry, nevertheless about 20 per cent. of the "former marry large-footed Chinese; but the marriage of Mantchu daughters to Chinese husbands a union not considWithout them walking would ered respectable and complimentary from a be impossible; the unbound and unsupMantchu standpoint- is rare, not more, ported foot is too weak to support the suprobably, than about 1 per cent. The Em- perincumbent weight. The feet are never peror's wives and concubines must belong encased in iron shoes, as some have thought. to the large-footed class; in other words, Simple bandages are all that are employed, must be Mantchus. Women of no class and are so applied across the foot as to beyond the above are permitted to enter carry the second, third, and fourth toes, the palace; and some one has said, with and especially the fifth toe, quite under what degree of truth I know not, that a the foot, and so to obtain the least possible small-footed woman entering the palace breadth; and by one or two turns of a would be put to death immediately. One figure-of-8 bandage, the foot is shortened, of Tau-kuang's concubines, Tung-fei, out the heel is brought close to the ball of the of sport, one day dressed herself in the big toe, and instead of forming an angle habiliments of the small-footed class, and with the leg bones, it looks more like a appeared before the Emperor. She was continuation of them. The os calcis, from instantly ordered from his presence, and being horizontal, becomes vertical, and its he refused ever to see her again. She re- posterior surface is brought to the ground. mained in strict seclusion in the palace. The bones of the instep are pushed out of It is a rule of this dynasty never to expel their proper place, and made to bulge, those who have been once admitted to the thus giving a great prominence, and an seraglio. Once in the Forbidden City, arched crescentic form, resembling the new always there. The Chinese generally choose, moon to that part. The plantar concavity or rather have chosen for them by their is therefore much exaggerated, and more mothers or go-betweens, a small-footed or less filled with tough cellular tissue. woman for their first or principal wife; The three points, then, upon which the foot and they themselves add to this, by pur- rests, are the heel in its new position, the chase or otherwise, a large-footed concu- ball of great toe, and the fourth and fifth bine; and vice versa, a Mantchu with a toes their upper surface having now belarge-footed wife, if of sufficient means to come part of the sole. The foot and leg maintain more, adds the desired number of are greatly atrophied, and the skin shrivsmall-footed secondary wives to his stock. elled. The leg tapers from the thigh-joint to the foot, in the form of a cone, without

Poverty and necessity sometimes lay an