self you do but still-I hope-perhaps you do not altogether dislike my staying."

"Dislike, oh, no! on the contrary, I am glad you do; for an English friend in a foreign country, even where that country is as beautiful as this, is a great pleasure, an English countenance is doubly cheering amongst foreign faces."

It was a pleasant speech, sweet to his hearing; but he dared not at that moment make any farther reply. He feared to break the spell, to awaken from the dream into which he had fallen: they were both silent.

"It is time now," said Lady Herbert, "to return home; give orders to the boatmen to put us ashore."

"Not yet, not yet, I beseech you," said Lord de Montmorenci: "Miss Herbert is well wrapped up, the night is very mild, do not be afraid on her account, let us enjoy this felicity while we may;" and then added, whispering as he spoke, "Dear Mabel, every day, every hour, during our sojourn in this land of Gilead, has brought balm and joy to me, but this evening has been peculiarly redolent of happiness; you have been so natural, so kind, make the remembrance of it perfect, dearest, name the time for our wedding day. Your child is well now, why should you longer delay to bless me?"

That request startled Lady Herbert from the dream of pleasure in which she had indulged, when, without the definite certainty of bliss, she allowed herself to be rocked into temporary delusion, that it yet existed for her, but the words name our wedding-day," cruelly dispelled her dream, and she knew not what to answer.

"Come, Mabel, do not try my patience longer."

To-day is Friday," said Lady Herbert, with a mournful smile, which she intended should be playful; and seizing upon a superstitious legend of its being an unlucky day, she added, "and so-and so- -I will not tell you any thing about the matter at present, but to-morrow or next day I

will."

Nay, now, Mabel, that is silly," and he looked hurt and grave: the pleasure of that evening was over for them. Miss Herbert had mean while been engaged in earnest conversation with Sir Edward; she had replied with apparent interest, to the subject on which he addressed her. She had said something kind, in reference to himself and

to his sister, and then he was imboldened to introduce the subject nearest to his heart.

"It is very good in you," he said, "to think of others' sorrows, for yours is such a happy lot, that the name of sorrow must be unknown to you. Would it could ever

remain so!"

Sarah Herbert shook her head: "How little do you know the truth! My youth has been passed in sorrow-in disappointment."

"What can you mean, Miss Herbert? Lady Herbert idolizes you-De Montmorenci loves you-" she gasped for breath till he completed the sentence, "De Montmorenci loves you as his own child-every one loves, every one admires you: rank, fortune, beauty, youth are yours-what can you require more?"

"To be loved by one who loves me not:" she blushed deeply and bowed her head.

66

By whom?"

"That I can never tell to mortal."

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"It cannot, then, be my love she wishes for," Sir Edward thought; yet, since she says her love is hopeless, that lends a hope to mine. Oh! tell me all," he said, with a tender tremulousness in his voice, which is so touching, so winning to the ear of woman. "Oh! tell me all your sorrows, and if my poor love could in any way obliterate the past, or prove acceptable as a soothing guerdon to your sorrows, how earnestly would I press it on your acceptance. This much I will say of my humble love, that it is as sincere, honest, and undivided, as it is fervent; you and you only, I love, my own relations excepted, and they (shame to me,) they are nothing to me, compared with what I feel for you. I have never till this moment dared to tell you this, and it is strange, that I should do so now-now, when you tell me that your heart is engaged; but love is strange, and builds up hope on the other's failures. You cannot, perhaps, love me as I do you, but even the thousandth part of your heart, would be more than another's whole of feeling. Does this confession meet with an indulgent hearing, or must I leave you for ever? Tell me, Miss Herbert, may I go on loving you thus? Will you let me try to win you? Speak, I conjure you, dearest Miss Herbert!"

His eyes, his manner, his tone of voice, guarantied his sincerity. He was not the one she loved-but he loved her -she felt that he was honest and true-that she might

waste all her young years in vain regret, for the love of one who would never care for her, and she might continue to be a bar to her mother's happiness, without obtaining her own; pride too, strove with weakness, and she heard Sir Edward's declaration, with a reflected sort of pleasure; it consoled her to think she was loved by some one, even as she could have loved; so she tried all the while to take courage and pity upon herself, and she thought too, upon her motherthat mother so tenderly beloved by her, and without allowing herself time for farther reflection, lest she should quail from her resolve. She replied,

"If you are sure you do thus love me, I am glad to put myself under the shelter of your kindly protection, and am happy to accept you as my husband.

Then you will be mine, Sarah, till death us do part?” "Yes," she repeated; "Till death us do part."

He took her hand-he kissed it rapturously. She pressed the hand which held hers with a kindly pressure; and now the boat neared the shore, and now they landed.

Sarah Herbert felt, as they walked home to the Maison Baryllis together, "He will do all in his power to make me happy," and she was grateful-but the whole scene through which she had just passed, seemed to her like a troubled dream; it appeared to her so sudden, so incredible, that she should have left the shore a few hours before-in secret, a self-immolated victim-devoted to a passion, hopeless of return, and that now she should have bound herself for life, to one, whom she did not love: she did not, however, repent of what she had done; for she was certain her trust in Sir Edward was not misplaced. She foresaw for herself, in all human probability, a quiet peaceful mediocrity of happiness, and she said, "I ought to be thankful.” But the heart is rebellious, even after it has been subdued; and it was not such a nature as Sarah Herbert's, or the nature of so young a heart, as to be at once happy, under the prospect of a sober bliss. There is such a thing as a woman's determining to act prudently against all the dictates of feeling, and that not from vanity and ambition, but from a sense of rectitude and duty. Is it right or wrong in her to do so? It is a hard question to answer. Certain it is, that the person who could persuade any one so to act, would incur a fearful responsibility, and yet how many parents, mothers especially, in the conviction that they are serving their children's interests, pursue this dangerous

system; they forget they once were young, and the fond beating of the youthful heart, they coolly consign to be stilled for ever.

When the party reached their home, the brilliant moon which had succeeded to the gorgeous sunset had gone down, and the darkness of a starless night closed upon the scene.

CHAPTER XXII.

Here lies a wretched corse,
Of wretched soul bereft,
Seek not my name—

TIMON OF ATHENS.

It had often been remarked, and wondered at by a certain class of wise persons, who stand aloof and look on at fashionable society, with a mixture of pity and amazement, how Sir Charles Lennard continued to find means to live in the expensive style he did; many envied his scavoir faire, and would have done the same if they could; some blamed, but the generality of the people contented themselves with that common-place vulgarity of occupation, wondering. His house, his dress, equipage, stud, table, mistress, were all of the first order, and his real income was known to be totally inadequate to any one of these expensive pleasures. How then did he obtain them? Some shook their heads and said, "in no honest way;" others declared Miss Clermont was his banker, "that is the secret spell by which she retains him in her train," may be so, but (said another better informed person)" I suspect he lives by still less honest means." And it was a suspicion entertained by a great majority of the respectable meinbers of society. However, as in this blessed land, no person can be criminated on suspicion, the charge of which they stand accused must be brought against them openly and proved, or else discarded and silenced for evermore. So hitherto Sir Charles passed current in society, and by his own set was made much of, praised, imitated, pronéd. He was of an ancient family-his ancestor was the famous Sir Godfrey Lennard, and his nearer forefathers were of high reputation; but his father and grandfather had been extravagant, and impoverished themselves to so vast an extent, that the princely fortune his illustrious ancestor, Sir Godfrey, had honourably amassed was reduced to a bare suffi