week. I mean to try and get well to do it myself; but if I don't get well, no more time must be lost. You must not cross me, Pamela. What do you think I should care if it was not for you? ?"

"And perhaps if I knew I should not care," cried the poor little girl, wringing her hands. She could not tell what it was; but still it became as clear as daylight to her that it was something against Jack.

'You would tell it to him," Mrs Preston said, with a deep sigh. Perhaps Pamela did not hear her, for the words were spoken almost under her breath; but the girl heard the sigh, and divined what it meant. It was bitter to her, poor child, and hard to think that she could not be true to both-that her mother was afraid of trusting her-and that Jack and Mrs Preston were ranged on different sides, with her love and faith, as a bone of contention, between them. Perhaps it was all the harder that she could not cry over it, or get any relief to her soul. Things by this time had become too serious for crying. The little soft creature grew without knowing into a serious woman. She had to give up such vain pleasures as that of tears over her trouble. No indulgence of the kind was possible to her. She sat by her mother's bedside all day long, and, with her mother's eye upon her, had to feign composure when she little possessed it. Mrs Preston was unreasonable for the

first time in her life as regarded Pamela. She forgot what was needful for the child's health, which was a thing she had never done in her life before. She could not bear her daughter out of her sight. If she went down-stairs for half-an-hour, to breathe the fresh air, her mother's eyes would follow her to the door with keen suspicion and fear. Pamela was glad to think that it must be her illness, and that only, which had this effect. Even Mrs Swayne was more considerate. She was ready to come as often as it was possible to watch by the sick-bed and let the poor little nurse free; but Mrs Preston was not willing to let her free. As it happened, however, Mrs Swayne was in the room when her lodger gave Pamela instructions about calling the Rector if she were not better in a week, and it startled the curious She told it to her neighbour and tenant in the next house, and she told it to old Betty; and the thing by degrees grew so patent to the parish that at last it came to Mr Hardcastle's ears. Naturally it had changed in the telling. Whereas Mrs Preston had directed him to be sent for in a certain desperate case, and as a last resource, the Rector heard that Mrs Swayne's inmate was troubled in her mind, and was anxious to confide some secret to him. What the secret was was doubtful, or else it would not have been a secret; but all Dewsbury believed that

woman.

the woman was dying, and that she had done something very bad indeed, and desired the absolution of a priest before she could die in peace. When he heard this, it was equally natural that Mr Hardcastle should feel a little excited. Though he had never dreamt of setting up a confessional, the idea of a penitent with a real burden on her conscience was pleasant; and he thought it his duty to see after her without delay. He went with the wisdom of a serpent and the meekness of a dove, not professedly to receive a confession, but to call, as he said, on his suffering parishioner; and he looked very important and full of his mission when he went up-stairs. Mrs Swayne had gone astray after new lights of Dissent, and up to this moment the dwellers under her roof had received no particular notice from Mr Hardcastle, so that it was a little difficult to account for his solicitude now.

"I heard you were ill," said the Rector; "indeed I missed you from church. As you are a stranger, and suffering, I thought there might be something that we could do-"

"You are very kind," said Mrs Preston; and then she looked askance both at Mrs Swayne and Pamela, keenly searching in their eyes to see if they had sent for him. And as Pamela, who knew nothing about it, naturally looked the guiltiest, her mother's

heart was smitten with a sharp pang at the thought that she had been betrayed.

"Not kind at all," said Mr Hardcastle, with animation. "It is my duty. If you have anything to say to me now

Once more Mrs Preston cast a keen glance at her daughter. And she asked slowly, "What should I have to say?" looking not at the Rector, but suspiciously into Pamela's face.

"My dear friend, how can I tell?" said Mr Hardcastle. "I have seen a great deal of the world in my time, and come through a great deal. I know how suffering tries and tests the spirit. Don't be shy of speaking to me. If," the Rector added, drawing a little nearer her pillow, "you would like me to send your attendants away

"Am I dying?" said Mrs Preston, struggling up upon her bed, and looking so pale that Pamela ran to her, thinking it was so. "Am I so ill as that? do they think I cannot last out the time I said?"

'Mamma, mamma, you are a great deal better— you know you are a great deal better. How can you say such dreadful things?" said Pamela, kneeling by the bedside.

"If I am not dying, why do you forestall my own time?" said Mrs Preston. "Why did you trouble

Mr Hardcastle? It was soon enough on the day I said."

"My dear friend," said the Rector, "I hope you don't think it is only when you are dying that you have need of good advice and the counsel of your clergyman. I wish it was more general to seek it always. What am I here for but to be at the service of my parishioners night and day? And every one who is in mental difficulty or distress has a double claim upon me. You may speak with perfect freedom-whatever is said to me is sacred."

"Then you knew I wanted to speak to you?" said Mrs Preston. "Thank you, you are very kind. I am not ungrateful. But you knew I wanted to ask your assistance? somebody sent for you, perhaps?"

"I cannot say I was sent for," said Mr Hardcastle, with a little confusion, "but I heard-you know, in a country place, the faintest wish you can express takes wings to itself, and becomes known everywhere. I understood-I heard-from various quarters-that I might be of use to you'

All the answer Mrs Preston made to this was to turn round to the head of the bed where Pamela stood, half hidden, in the corner. "That you might have something to tell him a little sooner!" she said. Her voice, though it was very low, so low as to be inaudible to the visitor, was bitter and sharp with