of Clare's protector during the rest of their voyage, which, under his care, terminated very agreeably. He was evidently immensely struck with the young lady he had thus strangely stumbled upon, and was as officious as any old bachelor of sixty could possibly be. He took upon himself to reprimand her if she would not guard herself against the weather, and effectually prevented the approach of any passenger who wished to make acquaintance with the handsome girl.

She soon discovered that the old Nabob was a bit of a fidget. He fussed and scolded the captain and sailors; launched forth in invectives against England and her atmosphere, which he declared enough to kill anybody in six weeks; and lauded the luxuries and heat of India to the skies. He wondered that he had ever returned, since there was no one left alive in whom he felt an interest, and, vowed over and over again, that he should soon go back to the east. Then he railed at man and

womankind, saying that he had found little but selfishness and ingratitude in the one sex, and folly and vanity iu the other. He was evidently a solitary, and rather misanthropic being; misanthropic, at least, because solitary. But he was so kind, considerate, and gentleman-like, that Clare quite liked him; and she was not a girl to take sudden fancies. Besides, he was very good-natured to some little children, and one or two poor invalids, to whom she saw him, privately, give money, whilst he told them that they would never get well in such a horrid, foggy air.

When they arrived, and landed at Craigyvellyn, Clare invited Colonel Llewellen to accompany her, at once, to her mother's house, which he accordingly did. There were ushered into the drawingroom by Miriam, who said her mistress was upstairs. Clare begged Colonel Llewellen to excuse her for a few moments, and followed Miriam, to her evident astonishment, to Gwenthlean's room. She entered,

and found her mother and Gwenthlean sitting by the sick-bed of her younger sister, upon whose face appeared symptoms of increased weakness. They uttered a cry of joyful surprise, as they perceived her, and rushed towards her to press her, alternately, in their arms.

"I am so glad you are come," murmured the suffering child, as Clare stooped over her bed to kiss her; "you will fill my place, and comfort them; for I am going away."

This was a melancholy greeting, and Clare gazed with painful earnestness upon the now flushed cheek of the patient speaker, who smiled upon her with the smile of an angel. She had not time for inquiries or thought, as she was obliged to make a hasty sketch of her rupture with her aunt, her departure from Bath, and consequent meeting with Colonel Llewellen, and his visit to the cottage. She omitted to mention his communication concerning Herbert, before Gwenthlean, but begged

her to go with her to the drawing-room for a few minutes, to be introduced to him, and to remain with him whilst she tried to recover from the excitement and pleasure of meeting. Gwenthlean hesitated, for she was shy, but Clare urged the point, and they went together.

Colonel Llewellen greeted Gwenthlean kindly, almost affectionately, for he looked upon her pale face, and delicate figure, as upon the wreck of youth and health, occasioned, perhaps, by the fate of her lover. Clare left them, to go and tell her mother of Herbert, which she did as clearly as she could, saying that Colonel Llewellen had come to give the information personally. Lady Llewellen was overwhelmed by the intelligence. It had been dreadful to believe Herbert dead; it was worse to labour under a fearful uncertainty.

"I hope he will not tell Gwenthlean," she said, "but will leave it for you."

Certainly not," replied Clare. "But,

dearest mamma, were they betrothed to one another."

"Not exactly betrothed," said Lady Llewellen, "but we must not talk of this now-God knows we have much to suffer."

"You are not angry with me for returning, dearest mother," said Clare, anxiously. "When you know everything, I do not think you will blame me."

"Angry, my love; oh, no. You could scarcely, if you loved us do otherwise. But, my child, you are come home to suffering and misery. All your energies will be required, and your life will be changed."

Lady Llewellen glanced with agony at the bed upon which lay her youngest born. Clare understood her, and a tear filled her eye. Lizzie appeared to be sleeping, but there were tears upon her cheeks also.

"Oh! she cannot-she will not!" exclaimed Clare; "so young, and sweet and lovely. But I can do everything now.