sounds of prayer and praise still murmured from her lips. They died away in labouring sighs, but the struggle though severe was short. Her spirit was soon liberated from its earthly prison, and transplanted into brighter realms.

CHAPTER XXI.

WE pass over the interval of a few months. It was on a sweet afternoon in early spring that Matilda was called from the tea-table of Mrs. Belgrave, at which she as usual had just sat down to officiate, by the servant bringing her a message that a gentleman wished to speak with her in the garden.

"A gentleman!" exclaimed Mrs. Belgrave," who is he-what is his name?”

But while the footman was endeavouring to appease the irritated inquiries of his mistress by explaining what he did not know-Matilda taking up her hat and shawl hastened into the garden, there to meet one, scarcely less dear to her upon more intimate acquaintance with his virtues, than she was to him at the time his expiring mother joined their hands together. He came now for the first time to be introduced to Mrs. Belgrave as Matilda's future husband, and to name the happy day that was to unite him with one so justly dear to his affections. Over all that he had to say, and she to reply, our

readers will pardon us for being brief; because if we were to specify all this in detail, it would occupy as much time as he and Matilda passed over it; and that being nearly an hour, we should perhaps draw upon ourselves as much anger as Matilda did when, just as the tea-equipage was being removed from the table, she again made her appearance before the incensed Mrs. Belgrave.

"Upon my word, Mrs. Harcourt, this is very curious conduct!" she observed, as Matilda entered the room.

Matilda merely observing that she had accidentally been detained, and desiring that the tea-tray might not be kept any longer on her account, as she should drink no tea-retired to her own room to think upon the manner in which she was to unfold her present circumstances.

As soon as her mind was a little composed she remembered that a speedy explanation was due to her mother, whose astonishment was already excited, and which would increase to a degree that might cause her some trouble, if Mr. St. Aubyn made his promised visit in the course of the evening before she had received any preparation to expect him.

She descended therefore to the sitting room, and with less agitation, though not with less affection than on a former occasion, she disclosed her case.

Mrs. Belgrave was struck with wonder, and doubt, and confusion. If Mr. St. Aubyn had ever distinguished her with the slightest degree of more attention than he had done, she would have thought that

Matilda must be mistaken, and that he had intended his addresses for her, and had taken an opportunity of sending them to her through her daughter.

"Such an old man !" she repeatedly exclaimed. "Why I dare say he is seven and thirty!"

Matilda did not know any thing about that-his age she had never thought about.

"Well, if you like him," Mrs. Belgrave continued, upon a monitory suggestion of her conscience that it would be as well for her to say as little as possible about the imprudence of second marriages.

Matilda did not think it necessary to explain how far she liked him-and Mrs. Belgrave went on as she had expected-" And now, then, I shall have to look out for a governess again for Emily and Fanny!"

-

But this was a point so really and truly dear to Matilda's disinterested heart, that she could not talk of her own prospects till she had arranged for the welfare of these children, to whom she had the sweet satisfaction of believing she had been of much service. "If her mother had no objection, they might both, she was sure, reside with her—at least for the present," a proposal to which Mrs. Belgrave with great happiness agreed-and this point settled, she believed, she said, upon the whole, it might turn out a very comfortable match-and perhaps she herself should settle in their neighbourhood. How far this measure might increase their comforts, Matilda did not at the present moment pause to consider-the variations of her mother's mind held out great hope that many an abode might have the honour to receive

her before she consented to grow old and rest quietly any where.

Another year behold Matilda the wife of St. Aubyn. He had been presented with a living, and their income more than equal to the comforts and elegancies of life their hearts and tastes, and what was of far greater importance, their religious principles in unison, they might almost be said to commence on earth a foretaste of those immortal joys they were humbly preparing themselves to participate in hereafter.

Ann Morton, though their frequent guest, resided generally in her humble dwelling, with, as she expressed it, in her peculiar phraseology, "her soul packed up, and ready for departure." Mrs. Belgrave was Mrs. Belgrave still! unwilling to believe that she had yet lost all the attractions of youth. It is difficult, indeed, for the wisest of us to remark the advances which time, that silent destroyer, makes upon all human creatures.

The same feelings animate the bosom-the same glowing warmth—the same exultation-the same capability of delightful emotion, long after the cheek has lost its downy bloom, and the sparkling eye its fire-happy are those who make the discovery that they are growing older, particularly happy are women in so doing, before the fatal fact is forced upon their recollection in that unceremonious, inflexible manner, in which nature's great truths are generally taught.

To return for a moment to Matilda and St. Aubyn. Happy in the present and not anxious for the VOL. II-T

future, they truly realised the so often quoted, but seldom experienced description of the poet. them it was indeed,

All various nature pressing on the heart :

An elegant sufficiency, rural quiet, friendship, books,

Ease, and alternate labour, useful life,

Progressive virtue, and approving heaven."

To

THE END.