Lady Edith which picture in the gallery was thought the finest painting, and whether Lady Anne's new song suited her soprano voice. There had evidently arisen a small dark closet in the mind of Beatrice now, that Lady Edith was not to enter; and most anxiously did that kindest of friends await the time when her motherly anxiety should be relieved by a clear explanation of the mystery which had suddenly stood up like a wall between them; but it came not.

In most country houses, the hostess good-humouredly assumes to herself the patronage of arranging at breakfast a programme for the amusements of the day, who shall go in her chariot after luncheon to the old ruined abbey in one direction, who shall climb up the wet slippery path in a distant glen to admire the celebrated cascade, and who shall undertake a day's shopping in the neighbouring country town with herself.

Lady Eaglescairn had a polite but peremptory habit of thus settling every visitor's plans for the day, and always began with overturning whatever project any one else had formed for himself. With a benevolent tyranny, which called itself a friendly interest in the diversion of her guests, every one must be amused in her way and in that only. There was no escape! The guests most difficult to please were always those to whom her chief interest was directed; for there is in all houses a premium on discontent, so that those who are known to

be fastidious become objects of assiduous attention, but those who are known to be easily satisfied are left to their good-humoured insignificance. Lady Eaglescairn, dressed like a peacock, so gorgeous was the variety of her colours, stepped every day with a smile of almost royal condescension into her barouche and four, which was decorated inside and outside with a shower of coronets on the lace, the hammer-cloth, and the trappings. The postilions and outriders appeared in all the rainbow magnificence of their gaudy liveries-yellow faced with blue -and two powdered servants, quite up to London pitch in their height, in the length of their goldheaded sticks, and in the precise angle at which they poised those sticks on the roof of the carriage, ushered into this exceedingly dignified equipage the very select few invited to accompany Lady Eaglescairn herself. Among those marked out for this ineffable distinction Beatrice was invariably one, and almost as constantly the party became completed by the addition of Mr. Clinton and Father Eustace. They kept up the conversation incessantly, and had often dived so deeply into subjects of interesting discussion, that the two clergymen were afterwards invited along with Beatrice, who listened always in silence, to finish the argument by accompanying Lady Eaglescairn to her private sitting-room.

Lady Eaglescairn patronisingly called Beatrice "A perfect dot; a darling!" and gave her other terms

of condescending endearment; but still Beatrice could not for her very life feel comfortable, happy, or at ease under such a flood of supernatural civilities. She perceived that Lady Eaglescairn's delight was always to patronise some one favoured individual to the exclusion of all others. If she could make one selected personage happy and every other in the room miserable, it would have delighted her to exercise so much power. If there were but two in the room of equal merit and of equal importance, one was invariably left out, while Lady Eaglescairn sat in a corner whispering to the other with well-acted vivacity, assuming an air of astonishment or amusement, to raise the curiosity of those unfortunate enough to be excluded, and Beatrice found herself promoted now to be "the Cynthia of the minute."

Amidst a cluster of splendid equipages, regularly every day grouped round the castle gate after luncheon to take everybody everywhere, there was one specially appointed for Lady Edith and Mrs Clinton. It was a low, small, old-fashioned ponycarriage, drawn by what seemed the father of all ponies, shaggy and shattered looking. Even the well-bred servants scarcely restrained a titter, when watching the stiff slow pace at which this respectable quadruped felt disposed to move. Lady Edith, however, looked in no degree disconcerted, but with her usual quiet grace placed herself in the humble conveyance appointed for her use, and

when exchanging a sly glance with Beatrice, her smile was the same intellectual, benignant smile as ever. Beatrice thought it like sun-light on a beautiful ruin, yet sometimes when for a moment the pale cheek of Lady Edith became suffused with colour, and the dimmed eye brightened with transient vivacity, her smile resembled that of a seraph:

“No duty shunn'd, no sacrifice unpaid
To social good."

Lady Edith, who often said that neither music nor painting ever afforded her more delight than architecture, had wandered one morning meditatively round the beautiful little structure of St, Bridget's Chapel, admiring with enlightened taste its light and airy symmetry, when she suddenly observed a low massy door like that of a prison standing ajar, and believing that it led into the vestry, she gently pushed it open and quietly stole in. To her extreme surprise, Lady Edith found herself in a cell, precisely realizing her conception of one in La Trappe. The floor, like the ceiling, was of rough unhẹwn stone, a wooden bench evidently intended as a couch to sleep on stood beside a rustic table, on which lay something that seemed intended for bread, though black and hard as a piece of coal. An earthen jar of water stood beside it, the contents purposely rendered nauseous by a mixture of bitter herbs, and a gaudily deco

rated missal lay open on the table, beside a crucifix of stucco, and a rosary of amber beads. In a distant corner appeared a large image dressed in blue satin and gold, meant apparently to represent St. Bridget herself, and before this idol, full length on the floor, lay motionless as death a female form, which Lady Edith did not at once discover to be that of a living being. While she stood transfixed to the spot for several minutes with wonder and curiosity, she became startled by hearing a rapid muttering sound from the recumbent figure, as if the same words were repeated in frantic haste over and over and over again with ceaseless perseverance. The vain repetitions seemed to go on without end, and when Lady Edith, who almost expected to see the black face of a Hindoo worshipper, obtained at last a momentary glimpse of the stranger's features, it was a sight she never to her latest hour forgot. countenance so emaciated, so expressive of utter, hopeless wretchedness she had never hitherto beheld, yet there was something silly and almost idiotic in the eye, painful to look on. The recluse's hands were as soiled and dirty as a housemaid's gloves for mending the fire; and the dress, like that of a corpse, added to the mournful effect of that woebegone face. A fold of linen was round the stranger's forehead, and a drapery of white cloth, tightly pinned round her face, hung disconsolately down to her very feet, so as almost to cover her black serge gown. A scourge lay beside her, as

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