"Mamma, let us have her here on a long visit," cried Nelly. "I am sure if she chose she might spend her life among her friends."

"She is a very independent little thing," said Mrs. Eastwood doubtfully. "Frederick and she were once rather good friends; but you may write to her if you like, Nelly. It will always be kind. The Claude Somervilles are going to Italy for their wedding trip. Dear me ! why can't people stay at home? one hears of nothing but Italy. And, speaking of that, here is an Italian post-mark. I wonder who it comes from."

be always in motion - for she never | make light of it;' but what a change it crossed the room or went from one table will be from her home, and her father to another without a reason for it - but who spoilt her?" somehow there was a perpetual play of movement and variety in every room where she was. Even when she was absorbed in the tranquillity of needlework, the motion of her hand kept things going. She was like a brook: a soft atmosphere of sound and movement. always soft, always pleasant-belonged to her by nature; but, like the brook, she tranquillized the surrounding scenery; or, like a bird, making the quietness seem more complete by its flitting from one branch to another, and delicious trying over of its favourite notes. Nelly was not alarmingly good, nor perfect in any way I know of; but she fulfilled this mission of the girl, which I fear, among greater aims, is falling a little into disrepute - she filled the whole house with her youth, her brightness, her gaiety, her overflowing life. No great demands of any kind had yet been made upon her. Whether she would be capable of responding to them when they came, no one could tell; but in the meantime she fulfilled her primitive use with the most thorough completeness. She was the life of the house.

Mrs. Eastwood had brought in some letters with her to the drawing-room. They had been delivered at luncheon and as none looked very pressing, they had been suffered to wait. This happy household was in no anxiety about its letters. That continual fear of bad news which afflicts most of us had no place in the bosom of the easy soul who had but one of her children absent from her, and he within half-an-hour by railway. She went over them at leisure, reading here and there a few words aloud. "Fancy, Nelly, Claude Somerville is going to be married at last," she said. "I wonder if his people will think her good enough; but indeed they will never think anyone good enough; and poor little Mary Martin is going out as a governess. Now, how much better if Claude had married her, and saved such a sad experiment?"

A few minutes passed, and Mrs. Eastwood made no further communication. "Where is it from?" Ellinor asked twice not caring to be kept in suspense, for the correspondence of the house, like other things, was in common. Her mother, however, made no reply. She uttered various half articulate exclamations"Dear me dear me! Poor man; has he really come to that!" she murmured as she read. "What is it, Mamma?" said Ellinor. Mrs. Eastwood read it all over, cried out, "Good gracious, Nelly!" and then turning back to the first page, read it over again. When Nelly found it impossible to bear this suspense any longer, she rose and went behind her mother's chair, and looked over her shoulder: "Is it bad news?" she cried, looking at the cramped lines which she could not make out. "Dear! dear me ! dear me ! what shall I do, Nelly?" said Mrs. Eastwood, wringing her hands; and then she added, “Don't write to Mary Martin, my dear, here is some one to be looked to of our own."

CHAPTER II.

THE NEWS, AND HOW IT WAS RECEIVED.

MRS. EASTWOOD had scarcely uttered these mysterious and affecting words, when a roll of wheels, a resounding knock, a peal at the outer door announced visitors. "Oh, call Brownlow, Nelly, quick, before the door is opened!" she said. "Oh, Brownlow, stop a moment; I have just heard of a death in the family. I don't think I can see any one; I don't think that I ought to be able to see any one, Nelly?"

"Who is it, Mamma?" cried Nelly, taking possession of the letter. Mrs.

Eastwood took out her handkerchief and | lady, and what did you mean when you said some one of our very own?"

died," said Nelly. "How old is the little | cannot be a strange country to her if she girl now?" has lived there all her life."

looking in through the window, was somewhat eerie and dreary; when it caught Mrs. Eastwood's eye she was apt to get nervous, and declare that there was somebody in the grounds, and that she saw a face looking in. But this evening she had other things to think of. Frederick, however, as he came in, felt a shadow of his mother's superstitions and alarms. The glimmering dark outside seemed to him full of possible dangers.

and the carpet, which was so worn as to ble like processions of ghosts in the dim bear little trace of its original pattern. air outside. That still world outside, "This will never do," Nelly said to herself. Her imagination, which was a very lively and sprightly imagination, instantly set off on a voyage of discovery through the house to make up what was wanting. She seized, always in her thoughts, upon here a picture, and there a set of shelves, and rooted out from the lumber-room the tiniest of easy chairs, and made up her mind as to the hangings. I do not mean to say that this was all pure kindness. To tell the truth, Nelly liked the job." Why don't you have the lamps lighted, The arrangement of the room, and its conversion out of a dingy receptacle for a nursery maid to a bower for a young lady, was the most delightful occupation for her. Did not some one say that a lady had lately set herself up in business as a house decorator? Ellinor Eastwood would have been her apprentice, her journeywoman, with all her heart.

It will be apparent from this that though the first idea of the new arrival startled both mother and daughter, the orphan was not likely to have a cold or unkindly reception. So much the reverse indeed was this to the real case, that by the time Mrs. Eastwood had confided all to her friend she herself was in high excitement and expectation of her unknown niece. Mrs. Everard had condoled with her on the burden, the responsibility, the trouble, every one of which words added to the force of the revulsion in her kindly and simple soul. "God forgive me, Nelly," she said, when her daughter reappeared in the twilight, "if I thought my own sister's child a burden, or shrank from the responsibility of taking care of my own flesh and blood. It seemed to hurt me when she said such things. She must have thought that was how I felt about it; when, Heaven knows, the very reverse "It was just like her, Mamma," said Nelly.

My dear, none of you are just to poor Mrs. Everard," said the mother, driven back upon herself. She dared not grumble ever so little at this friend of her bosom without giving occasion, so to speak, to the Adversary to blaspheme. Therefore for the sake of peace she gulped down a great many of her friend's opinions without venturing to say how much she disagreed with them. The two were sitting there consulting over the fire when Frederick came in. There were no lights in the room, the shutters were not closed, nor even the blinds drawn, and the trees were dimly discerni

and shut up the windows?" he said. "I can't understand your liking for the firelight, mother. One can't see to do anything, and anybody that chooses can see in."

"We don't want to do anything, and we don't care who sees us," said Nelly, who was sometimes saucy to her elder brother.

"Don't wrangle, children: we were discussing something which will startle you very much, Frederick, as it did me. It will make quite a change in everything. Perhaps Frederick will feel it least being out all day; but we must all feel it," said Mrs. Eastwood. Frederick seated himself with his face to the window with a certain air of endurance. He did not like the firelight flashing over him, and revealing what he might happen to be thinking. Frederick liked to keep his thoughts to himself; to tell just as much as he liked, and no more. He put his hands into his pockets, and gave a half perceptible shrug to his shoulders. He did not expect to be at all startled. "A change in the fashions, I suppose," he said to himself. He was supposed to be very fond of home, and a most domestic young man; and this was one of the ways in which he indemnified himself for the good character which he took pains to keep up.

They told him the story from beginning to end, and he was not startled; but he was interested, which was a great deal more than he expected to be. When the lamp was brought in he got the letter; but did not make very much of that; for to Ellinor's great gratification he could not read it. It was written in Italian, as we have said. Now, Mrs. Eastwood was the only person in the house who knew Italian, though Nelly herself could spell it out. The mother was rather proud of her accomplishment. She had lived in Italy in her youth, and had never ceased to regard that fact as one of the great things in her life. It was with a thrill of pleas-、

ure that she read the letter over, translat- "Oh, nothing extraordinary," said Elliing it word by word. And it was some-nor. There was a frequent bickering bething to have moved Frederick to such tween the two which made the mother interest. He entered into the discussion uncomfortable sometimes. "I was thinkafterwards with warmth, and gave his ad- ing you must want a change very much vice with that practical good sense which to be so ready to officiate as a nursehis mother always admired, though she maid." was not unaware that it sometimes failed. "I do want a change," he said. him in his own affairs. "She cannot "Don't wrangle, my dear children," come here by herself," he said, "some said their mother; "what is the use of one must go and fetch her. You can't wrangling? You have always done it allow a girl of that age to travel alone." since you were babies. Nelly, I wish "That is quite true, Frederick," said you were not so fond of having the last Mrs. Eastwood, "how odd I should never word." have thought of it before. Of course, she could not travel alone. Dear, dear, what must we do? I cannot go myself, and leave you all to your own devices. Could I send Brownlow, I wonder; or old Alice -?"

"Brownlow would never find his way to Pisa. He would break down long before he got there. And old Alice, what good could she do- an old woman?"

"She travelled with me," said Mrs. Eastwood, with modest pride. "Whereever I went she went. She learned a liitle of the language too. She would take very good care of her. Whom else can I send? Dick is too young, and too busy about his examination."

"If you will pay me well I don't mind going myself," said Frederick, stroking his moustache, and thus concealing a smile which lurked about the corners of his mouth.

"You, Frederick? It is very good of you to think of it. I never thought of you. What a pity we cannot make a party, and all go!" said Mrs. Eastwood. "To be sure that would cost a good deal. I would pay your expenses, of course, my dear, if you could make up your mind to go. That would, no doubt, be the nicest way of all. Yes; and though it is a melancholy occasion, it would be a little change for you too. You have been looking rather pale lately, Frederick."

"I did not have the last word this time," said Nelly, hastily, under her breath.

"For, if you will think of it, it is very good of Frederick to bestow so much interest on a poor lonely little girl. Neither you nor I, Nelly, though we are women, and ought to have more feeling, ever thought of going to fetch her. The thing is, can you get leave, Frederick? You had your two months in the autumn, and then you had Christmas, and you have been out of town very often, you know, for three days. Can you have leave again so soon? You must take care not to hurt yourself in the office."

"Oh, I can manage; I am not afraid of the office," he said; but at this moment Brownlow rung the bell solemnly, meaning that it was time to dress. When they sat down to dinner together, four of them - for Dick had come in in the meantime they were as handsome a young family party as could be seen. The table was bright with such flowers as were to be had; well lighted, well served. Perhaps of all the party Frederick was the most strictly handsome. He had a somewhat long face, with a melancholy look, which a great many people found interesting -a Charles I. look some ladies said; and he cultivated a small beard, which was slightly peaked, and kept up this resemblance. His features were very regular; and his fine dark brown hair longer "Yes, I have been looking pale," he than men usually wear it. He was very said, with a little laugh, "and feeling pale. particular in his dress, and had deliI'll go. I don't care much for the melan-cate hands, shapely and white. He looked choly of the occasion, and I should like like a man to whom something would hapthe change. To be sure I am not much pen, the same ladies said who found out like old Alice; if the little girl wants a his resemblance to Charles I. There was nursemaid I might be awkward one thing about him, however, that few people remarked at first sight; for he was aware of it, and did his best to conceal the defect of which he was conscious. He was not fond of meeting a direct look. This did not show itself by any vulgar shiftiness of look, or downright evasion of other people's eyes. He faced the

"She is sixteen," said Mrs. Eastwood. Nelly made no remark; but she watched her brother with a scrutiny he did not quite like.

"Do you see anything extraordinary about me, Nell, that you stare at me like that?" he said, with a little irritation.