declared she would answer no questions put to her, and was about to leave the room, when her mistress, seeing that if she did not make good her assertions that her maid was her informant, she herself would be shunned and despised by all the English whose favour it was her interest to court, desired her to remain; at the same time threatening to dismiss her for having so grossly deceived her by the tales she had told to the prejudice of Lord Henry, and to the great disquiet of his lady.

Sophie, upon this, turned her vindictive eyes towards the marchesa, and said, with a sneering laugh,

"It is very fine for you to throw all the blame of this ridiculous affair upon me, when you know it was to please you it was all concocted. Do you not remember, madame, a certain day when you were affronted at this proud lord not having escorted you from a ball, when you had set your heart (as you said) upon having him as your cicisbeo; at the same time vowing revenge against the frozen Englishman, as you called him?”

"And did not you, traitress," replied the now enraged marchesa, "declare that nothing on earth would give you so much pleasure as to be revenged on your foolish lord and lady, as you called them, on account of their behaviour to you for having merely corrected their vicious little page, and that you hated your successor, Mam'selle Therèse, almost as much as you did them, for her absurd fondness of the detestable Carlos. Answer me this!"

"I shall answer no impertinent questions," replied the undaunted Sophie. "Pay me what you owe me, for I shall remain no longer in your beggarly establishment."

Saying this, she bounced out of the room, leaving every one in it confounded at her insolence, and convinced of her guilt.

The marchesa advanced towards my lady with a hypocritical smile, saying,

"I trust now, my dear friend, you are quite satisfied."

Perfectly," replied Lady Henry, in a firm voice; and turning to her husband and taking his hand, said, "Forgive me, dearest Enrico,

that I could for a moment be so blind and so wicked as ever to have listened to even a breath of accusation against you, and coming as it did from a professing friend. And you, too, my good and kind Theresa, forgive your foolish and ungrateful mistress. As for you, madam," she continued, addressing the marchesa, "I beg to inform you that this is the last time you and I can enter the same room." Saying this, and taking her husband's arm, and begging Lady L and myself to accompany her, she left the saloon; and I had soon the satisfaction of hearing from Madelina, that the marchesa and her friend had left the hotel.

Every thing now being cleared up to the satisfaction of all parties, Lady Henry kindly and earnestly requested me not to quit her service. But I had quite made up my mind not to remain. Not from any angry or unforgiving feeling, but because I felt sure it was better for all of us, after what had passed, that we should part. Her ladyship seemed, and I really believe was sorry that I had come to this determination, and for the short time we

were together treated me as she did before this unhappy affair occurred.

In the mean time I exerted myself to procure a situation before Lord and Lady Henry should quit Florence; but I did not wish to leave them till the last moment, though I succeeded in obtaining such a one as I felt no doubt would be both comfortable and agreeable.

The day at last came when I was to bid adieu to those from whom I had received much kindness, and with whom I had spent nearly three years (with the exception of one unhappy month) in happiness and comfort.

I could not restrain my tears as I saw the party snugly packed in the travelling carriage, and the vacant space so often occupied by dear Carlos and myself. I could not, however, help smiling too, as I overheard a conversation between Patrick and Griffith and some friend who came to see them off. The latter had, as I gathered, been hinting that one of his two old cronies would certainly become a Benedict before they returned to England

and insinuated that their travelling companion, the young and blooming Madelina, would subdue their stubborn hearts.

"Mine is not very stubborn," said Patrick, "for I've been in love all my life, but it has always been with some dear little Irish lass. Foreigners don't please my fancy for a wife."

"I shall live and die an old bachelor," observed Griffith, "sooner than marry a papist; and, besides, what do you think folks would say at Llanvihangel-nant-mellan if I should take home a poor girl who could not speak or understand a word of Welsh or English?"

The unconscious object of this conversation, the really handsome Madelina, was listening and smiling without understanding one word that was said by these two companions of hers, both of whom were old enough to be her father.

The gentleman and lady who had been standing at the door of the carriage discoursing with Lord and Lady Henry, while the conversation outside, which I have narrated, was going on, now took their leave, and I was