cheeks and lips were white, and her eyes flashed, while she drew herself up unconsciously.

Augustus!" was all she said, but there was a world expressed in the word-indignation, anger, astonishment, and reproach.

66

I beg your pardon," mumbled he; "but really I cannot but suppose that you have ceased to care for me."

Margaret said nothing: a few very bitter tears rolled down her cheeks, but she strove to hide them, and would not even wipe them away, for fear he should see them and know how much she was hurt.

As they were going in at the garden-gate he said: "Is this a final resolve of yours, Margaret, or only a lovers' quarrel?"

Margaret hesitated half a moment. "Suppose he should alter," thought she; "but, no, it isn't likely ; these are life-long habits of his." So she said"Yes, final."

"You never loved me," said he, more with anger than affection. "Woman's constancy is all

bosh."

"You know that is not true, Augustus; it is you who really do not care for me. I know it now well enough. I don't blame you; so early and long an engagement was foolish, no doubt."

He began to make protestations, but she stopped him. As they came in sight of the house, Margaret

saw Eliza's face at a bedroom window watching them.

Nothing more was said. They entered the house in silence. But the bond was severed that had bound them for six long years together.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE LARK.

66 Higher still and higher,

From the earth thou springest;

Like a cloud of fire

The blue deep thou wingest,

And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest."

WHEN Margaret Clevedon told her aunt that the engagement between herself and Augustus was broken off, she asked her what reason he gave for doing it?

I hope you

"It was my doing, Aunt Eleanor. won't be angry, but we have come to be so different, we should not make each other happy."

Mrs. Stuart was surprised, but she was not angry. Margaret's fortune was not sufficient for her to care for the marriage on that account. She thought it unfortunate, and was annoyed at the gossip it would occasion in the neighbourhood.

A day or two afterwards, Captain Steuart announced his intention of going to London for some time, and

then of running over to Rome to his Uncle Thomas, who was remaining on there for the Carnival.

Before he left Llangavon Castle, however, Mrs. Stuart had another attack of paralysis. She had been for a drive as usual in her brougham, and it happened that Margaret had not accompanied her. When the door was opened at her own home, she was found stricken and helpless. This, of course, delayed her son's departure, but the following weeks hung heavily on his hands. No company was, of course, invited to the Castle, and if Margaret had wished to be his constant companion, which she did not, she could not have managed it, as much of her time was taken up with her aunt.

Eliza Davies, who seemed to know exactly how matters stood between the cousins, made herself exceedingly obnoxious to Margaret. She flirted with Captain Stuart all day long, while she dressed herself out in a ridiculous way, and gave herself all sorts of airs. Augustus now seemed to have thrown off all reserve in the matter, called her "Lizzie," and made his mother's illness an excuse for always hanging about the ante-room, which was where Eliza sat.

One day, when her cousin was out, Margaret was sitting by her aunt, when she thought she heard the sound of some one playing on the piano in the drawing-room. Now this piano was Margaret's own property; it was a thoroughly good instrument, and

had belonged to her own mother. She went down stairs, and, on opening the door of the room, what was her surprise to see Eliza seated on the music stool, trying over the accompaniments of some songs she and Augustus had been lately singing together.

"Davies," said Margaret, severely, while her heart was full of indignation at the impertinence of the girl, "I desire you to close that piano, and return my music into its place directly."

"Mrs. Stuart gave me leave," said Eliza, pertly, retaining her seat, and striking a fresh chord.

"My aunt never did anything of the kind," said Margaret. "It is my instrument, and Mrs. Stuart would not think of giving any leave at all about it, even if she were able to speak, which you know she can scarcely do."

Margaret spoke very calmly, but decidedly, and, as she stood there pointing to the door, Eliza, from some reason for which she afterwards could not account, felt obliged to rise and leave the room, though she was very angry.

Margaret closed the instrument, and locked it with a little gilt key which was hanging to her watch chain.

This incident was, no doubt, a mistake on Eliza's part, of which she would not have been guilty had she known the piano belonged to Miss Clevedon ; but after this there was no more attempt at any friendly relations between the two.

Eliza was most