Blackbirds! for such was the ignoble cognomen of the miserable alehouse where Mary St. Maur first drew her breath.

Poor Lady Selwood! It certainly was a very mortifying catastrophe; nor was the vexation in any way diminished by the reflection that, had she listened to the old Earl's prudent remonstrances, these evils would have been avoided.

Lord Selwood, who was duly informed of his wife's misadventure, repaired immediately to the scene of her disasters, and, in the joy with which he clasped his infant to his breast, almost forgot the surprise naturally elicited by the strange circumstances in which he had found his lady.

For a short time, harmony seemed to be restored between this ill-matched pair. All the better feelings of Lord Selwood's nature had been called into action, and Frances was so fearful of awakening his curiosity as to the real cause of her most unsuccessful journey, that for a time she became more gentle and conciliatory, and received with unusual suavity some costly

ornaments with which her husband presented her on this happy occasion.

But Lady Selwood gained more than ornaments by her daughter's birth: the infant was sickly, and the anxious father was easily persuaded nothing could be half so beneficial for

his little girl as sea air. Accordingly, after spending a few weeks at an hotel in London, they took possession of one of the best houses in Worthing. The demon of discord was not, however, long in re-asserting his sway; indeed, the very circumstance that should have proved a bond of union between the parents became a source of endless dissension.

Horace idolized his child, while the unnatural mother regarded with feelings of absolute dislike the innocent cause of her mortification; and, from overrating the importance of her newly acquired dignity, her temper, always imperious, became positively ungovernable. Lord Selwood's disposition was ill-calculated to brook such conduct; they quarrelled inces

santly, and when, in consequence of Lord St. Maur's having had an alarming attack of illness, he was summoned home, they parted with mutual satisfaction.

In the course of a few weeks, Lady Selwood, becoming wearied of Worthing, discovered that Brighton was likely to prove a gayer residence, and removed thither. She had the satisfaction of finding several of her acquaintance there, and of knowing that others would arrive with the approaching winter.

And now, released from the presence of her Lord, occupying an excellent house, followed and courted by a throng of idle triflers, Frances once more entered upon the mode of life she had formerly found so agreeable; and which now appeared doubly fascinating, as contrasted with her dreary existence at Selwood Castle.

She patronized balls, plays, concerts; gave select dinner parties; walked, drove, visited, and flirted. Frances was supremely happy both in her present and anticipated pleasures; but, un

luckily for her future enjoyments, notice of these gay doings reached Selwood Castle, coupled with the intimation that Lady S. was perpetually surrounded by a crowd of dissipated young men, and making herself very conspicuous with Captain Danby. She was in consequence most disagreeably surprised by her husband's unexpected arrival, just as she was on the point of stepping into her carriage to attend a fancy ball; and our readers will easily imagine, that the welcome with which she greeted him did not increase in cordiality on her being informed that on the very next morning she must hold herself in readiness to return to her hated home.

In vain did Frances expostulate, weep, scold, go into hysterics, and try to faint: Horace was inexorable, and they left Brighton on the following day. As may be supposed, Selwood appeared henceforward doubly odious to this miserable victim of selfishness and folly; but although her discontent and ennui increased hourly, she dared not now, as formerly, vent her

ill-humour by openly complaining to her Lord; for she knew her conduct had been such as fully to merit the restraint she found so irksome. An addition to the family circle had, however, recently taken place, and Lady Emily Warham became the subject of every species of ill-nature and petty malice from her unfeeling sister-inlaw. A being less unamiable than Frances would have commiserated Lady Emily, (for she lately had become a widow, and the pittance which had been saved from the wreck of her husband's property hardly deserved the name of independence,) and, far from aggravating, would have endeavoured to alleviate her painful situation. But none of these considerations weighed with one who thought of nothing, cared for nothing, but herself; while the gentleness and patience invariably displayed by her victim served only to increase her spiteful malevolence.

And thus it ever is: a noble disposition is disarmed by gentleness and submission; while, on