How his lordship could address a "man" as Madam," I did not know, and I ruminated much upon that note, my guardian's manner, and the plans I had laid for making a martyr of myself on the altar of benevolence-bah ! I shrunk back, not daring to gaze into the dark abyss on the verge of which I was standing.

It was too revolting-too terrible-it could not be it was direful sin-marry him—I had rather with "sweet Anne Page."

". . . . be set quick i' the earth

And bowled to death with turnips."

No-another scheme, which once or twice had skimmed airily through my brain, rose before me in alluring colours-" a cold, sweet, silver life" it was-I would be a "Sister of Mercy."

* "The fish is swift, small-needing, vague yet clear,
A cold, sweet, silver life, wrapped in round waves,
Quickened with touches of transporting fear."

LEIGH HUNT.

CHAPTER XI.

"For thee the Fates severely kind, ordain
A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain;
Thy life a long dead calm of fixed repose;
No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows.
Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow,
Or moving spirit bade the waters flow;
Soft as the slumber of a saint forgiven,

And mild as opening gleams of promised heaven."

ELOISA TO ABELARD.

THOUGHTS of those holy, self-devoted women, who sacrifice every earthly interest and affection at the altar of their God, were ever present with me; and I experienced a poignant feeling of vexation at not having been brought up in my mother's faith.

The Romish Church would now have opened wide her arms to her heart-stricken

daughter, and in the depths of some convent cell, "the world forgetting, by the world forgot," I might have found that peace which I now sought in vain; but my father's dying wish had been that I might be nurtured in the Protestant faith, and entertaining a deep veneration for his memory, I struggled hard with the growing inclination I felt for seeking comfort in a strange faith.

However, a Protestant sister of charity or mercy, I might be.

Noble mission! to nurse the sick, to soothe the suffering, to bind up the broken-hearted; and a feverish longing for this life of useful

ness came over me.

Strange was it, that I never thought of the admonitions of my dying Grace, nor sought the aid she had pointed out. No, I was too proud, I must find comfort after my own fashion, and so I went on from day to day torn by conflicting feelings, groping in darkness, and finding no light.

It was the night of my life, when was the dawn so wished for to appear!

I seemed now to live a strange inward existence, the current of my life was changed;

I viewed everything with a jaundiced eye, yet thought while so doing, that I had acquired a wonderful insight into the things of life, and a strong mastery over myself.

It was a new and unnatural pleasure to me to run counter to my feelings, and I imagined I should become unhumanized at last, and be able to live very happily, or at least contentedly, though living apart from my fellows, and unconnected with them by any silver chain of sympathy.

I became feverish, irritable, and though indulging occasionally in hysterical laughter, the smile of happiness was a stranger to my lips.

What my guardian thought of my manner, or whether or not he ever perceived any change in me, I cannot say, but he thought fit to change his tactics, and now tried the conciliatory plan. Of the two, this was more horrible to me than the other, I shrank so from his attentions; yet it was most difficult to avoid them.

If I absented myself from his society, I received a hint from Lady Bernard that “I

might be more respectful to my guardian, more civil to her nephew," so I was obliged to make the effort.

Lord D'Arville wished me to sing duets with him; but my voice being a deep contralto, and his a gruff basso, the effect produced was of a growling kind, which was anything but agreeable; however, he seemed to admire it exceedingly, and, no doubt, thought I did also, at all events, his part in the performance; for man on better terms with himself and his accomplishments, it would be difficult to

encounter.

He brought "Hassan" with him, that I might resume my rides, and the lively spring with which I bounded into the saddle, his vanity mistook for the result of pleasure at the idea of riding with him! So one ride was enough.

Oh! how bitterly I would weep sometimes at the close of a day spent with him.

But they were not all tears of sorrow, or if they were, it was that "sorrow of the world, which working death." One tear which fell silently, but scalding as it went, till it seemed