"Now, Mattie," said her mother, brightening up in spite of herself at the novelty of the proceeding, "have you got proper paper? Don't put too much on one page, my love; a note should never be compressed. And a few lines are all that is needed, just to say that my poor head is so bad to-day that I have made you my deputy correspondent since your sisters are out; and "Stop a moment, please, mamma," interposed Mattie. As he spoke, Boyd glanced at Miss Miss Julia, they were not anywhere in Mattie, whose elder sisters were the de-view, the risk must be run. linquents, and whom he, in common with the rest of the household, had as yet scarcely learned to take into account. Only a few months before she had returned to them from her foreign school, almost a stranger; and in what ways, and to what extent, she might be depended upon, had yet to be found out. Boyd himself had carried the fair maid in his arms as a baby, and was jealous as a parent of her dignity and her honor, - but he was not sure that she was to be trusted with the ink-bottle on the present occasion. Lady Turner, to whom a note had to be written, was a person of great importance to the Boscawen household; and Miss Mattie was just Miss Mattie, who never put herself forward, never was sent for when visitors were in the drawingroom, never was taken into council on any matter of consequence, from whom, in short, nothing was expected but unobtrusive, dutiful acquiescence in all things soever that might be ordained by the ruling powers. As she stood meckly by, offering no suggestion, Boyd and his mistress alike debated what was to be done. Mrs. Boscawen was the first to speak, having naturally the most at stake; whatever Boyd might think, she was not going to get off her sofa and set herself to the task of writing, just when she was feeling particularly low, and nervous, and wretched, startled, too - anything sudden was always so tiresome and startling. Mattie must surely be able to pen a few words that would not disgrace her -Mattie, on whose education so much had been spent, and who was, as it were, just off the irons. She felt, all at once, that it was foolish to have hesitated; and without permitting herself to reflect further, or even to consult the grey-headed dependant, who stood waiting, with her eye, observed decidedly, "Then, Mattie, my dear, you must go to the writing-table." She need not have feared, however, that any intervention would be offered. Boyd had come to the same conclusion as his mistress ere he respectfully withdrew; for although he shook his head wisely outside the door, and prognosticated no great things of the performance now to be gone through, he felt that the emergency was extreme. The groom was impatient, the light was going: under such circumstances, and since, although he stopped at every window along the gallery to peer out, in hopes of seeing Miss Adelaide and I "Write it nicely, my dear; your aunt is a great observer of little things." "Yes, mamma. I am ready now." "Then you must thank her, and say am very happy that you should accept her kind invitation. I cannot understand her asking you, nevertheless," added Mrs. Boscawen; "for certainly one of the young Hamiltons or Wrays would have filled Douglas's place better than you. You cannot fill a man's place. How can you hand Well, well, I won't speak; and it does not signify, either; it is your aunt's own affair if her table is disarranged. How are you getting on, my love?" How she was getting on the youthful scribe could scarcely tell herself. Pretty well, she thought. Her fingers might tremble, and her heart beat, but the page before her was neither blotted nor blurred. With some complacency she surveyed the whole, ere she carried it to the sofa for inspection, and watched for the effect it would produce, much as she had been wont to anticipate the commendation so fair and even an exercise would have won at school. It was this gentle glow of self-approval manifested in her daughter's countenance which checked the "My dear child!" just rising to the parent's lips. She looked at Mattie, looked at the letter, and looked up again with a smile. All at once the fair young face was suffused with color. "Is it not right, mamma? Will it not do?" "Well, my love, ye-es, it will 'do,' I dare say. It is not a very good note, you know, Mattie, not like Adelaide's or Julia's notes; but your aunt will understand to make allowances, and perhaps she may not look at it much,"-turning the sheet over in her hands dubicusly; then, with a start, “My child, you have spelt correspondent with one r!" "Give it me, mamma, quick. I can put that in easily." "Softly, my love; don't be in too great a hurry. Yes, you can slip it in very well in the corner – at least you must do it as well as you can; you would not like to write it over again? Come here, let me show you. All these little sentences at the end, all this part-'Believe me, your affectionate niece, Matilda Boscawen,' should be in distinct, short lines, not running into one another as you have made them do. Do you understand? Then here again" turning to the page before "you should have begun afresh - made a new start with a large M. A note or a letter ought not to be filled up like a copy-book. Of course, I could not see to direct you in this respect; and the phrases are all very well, you have said exactly what I told you; but these trifling points, the knowing where to stop and where to begin-and your lines should be a great deal further apart besides, all this is of importance to the look of the thing. And let me tell you, my dear, that to write a good note should be one of a woman's chief accomplish here ments.' "But what am I to do?" sighed Mattie. "Let it go for this time," unexpectedly rejoined her mother, who, having had the satisfaction of pointing out the defects, felt, as many other people would, that they were not worth further trouble. "Remember what I said for another occasion, my love; and now, ring for tea." "I am to send this?" "Dear me, yes, there is no help for it." Such relapses into fretfulness were not uncommon to the speaker. "It must go, I suppose. What are you doing now? Directing the envelope, mamma.' "Is that still to be done? Then could you not just take out a fresh sheet, and But, no! I am so tired I really cannot go over it all again. No, I cannot look at the direction, my head aches too much. Take it down-stairs yourself, like a good child; and don't let me have Boyd fussing in and out of the room more than can be helped." The door was scarcely heard to close behind the departing messenger, it slid so softly into its socket. But once outside, it was the flight of a terrified bird that brought Mattie to the bottom of the great staircase, across the hall, along the passages, till she found her object. Boyd, she guessed, would not be far to seek; and sure enough, though her light footsteps left no sound, he caught the rustle of her dress, and emerged from a door way, ere she had considered by what means to summon him. The letter was now taken from Mattie's hands, and scarce a minute elapsed ere her listening ear caught the sound of a horse's hoofs pass beneath the window where she stood on the watch, and she saw the groom despatched by Lady Turner trot quickly out of sight. A sigh of ecstacy burst from her lips. A wonderful, well nigh impossible thing had come to pass. An event which she could not have stirred hand or foot to bring about, had been brought about for her. A mystery she could not fathom had been accomplished; a miracle had been wrought. All this, and nothing less, it seemed to this simple maiden, because the most ordinary common thing in the world had happened. What more natural than that her brother having failed, she should be summoned by her aunt to supply his deficiency? What more likely than that she should be permitted to do so? What need of this fear, this trepidation, this emotion on so trite a subject? And why should Mattie care to go at all? The night was dark and wild — the circle at Lady Turner's would in all prob. ability prove formal and unattractive, formidable, moreover, to one so shy and unused to society. It would have been much more easily understood, much more in accordance with the young Matilda's character, if she had shrunk from and shunned the ordeal. It would, and yet it had seemed as if her very heart would break if she had had to send a refusal. Underneath that passive exterior, veins were throbbing and swelling: that gentle acquiescence hid a passion of entreaty. She had so envied the elder ones who had been preferred before her, had so patiently borne her deprivation, and so proudly hidden her desire, that the present reaction was almost too much. To none had a whisper of her secret been confided; and how childish would one and all have deemed her, knowing nothing, how much, how infinitely worse than childish had a fool, a simpleton the truth come out? That Frederick was to be there — the handsome, haughty, stiffnecked Fred, the pride and object and worry of his mother's life- the incomprehensible, unmanageable, unsusceptible cousin, what should that have been to any of the fair Boscawens? They had been deeply annoyed, - at least Adelaide and Julia had, for the youngest sister knew nothing of such matters, because a ridiculous rumor had got abroad, and been bandied from one to the other, founded on the mere fact of Frederick's having been seen galloping across the floating sands which lay between Rimmin and the Castle, whereas he ought to have gone round to his uncle's door by the road at the head of the bay. Suppose he had chosen the quickest path suppose he were a dare-devil rider who risked his neck without much thought of its value – was that to say that he would not as readily have done the same had the dangerous route led him to any other goal? He had brought Mattie a fragment of pink seaweed from the islet in the heart of the bay, and Mattie had taken it with a burst of tears. This had been unfortunate, foolish. She had been spoken to, and told how absurd she was, and kept away from Rimmin strenuously from that time. She had also been tutored to avoid her cous. in, to speak coldly to him, withdraw herself from his company when accident brought him to the Castle, and in all respects show that what had so unluckily happened was merely the effect of the shock consequent on finding that any one - any one- had been so thoughtless, and had had so narrow an escape. All this Mattie had done, and no further blame had in consequence attached itself to her. But now Frederick was going away; and going, as she felt, under an impres sion so false, that if he left Rimmin at this time, according to his present intentions, all was over that ever might have been between them. Once, she had felt nearly sure she was beloved, but of late coldness had begotten coldness, and reserve, formality, so that the alienation at length had become complete, and one at least had well-nigh despaired of any thing ever happening to break it down. But might not Mattie have this one chance more? Might she not just see him, hear him, be in his presence once again? The fiat went forth "No." Adelaide and Julia alone accepted their aunt's hospitality, and not a word or sign gave the little sister when she heard it. Hard as her fate was, she had borne it bravely; but none the less had the disappointment been bitter, and to find herself once more, without act or effort of her own, within a few hours of meeting her cousin within his own halls, filled her with amazement and strange delight. No wonder that tremors had overrun her frame as she stood in patient silence during her mother's deliberation; Mattie could never speak, but she could keenly feel. It was not the decision she had had to fear, however, it was the delay. And that we shall presently explain. Mrs. Boscawen, being precluded by the state of her health from leaving her own apartments, had known nothing of what had passed between Frederick and his cousin. She saw Mattie gentle, quiet, composed as ever, and fancied that her youngest daughter, whose temper and disposition she had hardly so far had an opportunity of studying, was by nature silent and reserved, as she had certainly shown herself to be under the diligent supervision before mentioned. Since the parent had nothing whereof to complain, she asked no questions, and was vouchsafed no information, there being no occasion for her to be enlightened. At least so thought Adelaide and Julia, and they had their own reasons for reti. cence. Frederick's gallantry had annoyed them to the full as much as had its effect upon their sister, and they had been even more out of temper with their friend and gossip, Norah Hamilton, than with either; for it was Norah who, referring to the foolhardy feat, had alleged that people "talked," and that it was given out everywhere that Sir Frederick was engaged to one of his cousins. This was the more provoking since there neither was, nor ever had been, any truth in such a statement, and the idea was repudiated with indignation, but it was not repeated at home. "Mattie would think it did not signify what people said," averred Julia. "Mamma would show that there was something wrong before Aunt Caroline," added Adelaide. "We should be prevented going to Rimmin ourselves," concluded both. And that settled the matter. For they liked going to Rimmin very much, if not quite so much as Mattie did; and as they came home along the shore from their walk to the village on the afternoon in question, they were in high goodhumor at the prospect of spending the evening there. They had thought themselves obliged to go out, stormy as the weather was, alleging that a few little odds and ends of messages, trifles that were wanted by one and another, would not be properly attended to unless they took upon themselves the task. Mattie was no good; they did not think of asking her to undertake the business; and on no | Dear! how stupid of me not to think of account would they have out a carriage, a that before, when she was actually going carriage being needed so soon again. to the needle-shop! Now I shall have a That is to say they wanted the walk to whole evening doing nothingexhale some of their exuberant spirits, and to heighten the roses in their cheeks for the evening. "You must just not lose your needle, mamma," said Mattie gaily. Poor child! She could not but be gay, do what she When Lady Turner's messenger arrived would. Everything was now in her eyes at the Castle it was not far from the hour as bright as in her mother's all was somwhen the return of the two might be bre, and her conviction of the daylight's looked for, and it was the knowledge of having lasted, and of her sisters' successthis which made all the time spent by ful shopping, would have extended itself Mrs. Boscawen in considering the ques- to further cheerfulness on any other subtion, and pointing out the errors of Mat-ject started; she could not conjure up tie's epistle, one of trial to her daughter. In every gust of wind she fancied she heard her sisters' footsteps at the door; and once admitted to the deliberation, their influence was everything with their mother. By intuition she knew what scale it would weigh down in the present instance, and that her chance might go to the winds once Adelaide raised her voice, or Julia her eyebrows. But the note was written, and the man gone. Joy, joy! No one could now recall him; the walkers were coming from an opposite direction; and by the time they knew anything of the matter, the answer would be in her aunt's hands, and she might snap her fingers at all interference. But she must calm the flutter in her breath, and shade the light within her eye: none must suspect what she would hide, even from herself, if she could. At Rimmin all would be easy; she was not afraid of betrayal once in Frederick's presence, the very thought that he was near was enough to silence and to petrify, but beforehand, an unguarded speech, a look of happiness, might attract fatal attention. - Mrs. Boscawen, however, was still alone when Mattie returned to the boudoir. "My tea, Mattie; I am so thirsty, child," she began plaintively. "Your sisters really need not have stayed so long. It is past five now, and getting quite dark. I don't like their being out at this hour." "It is only dark in this room, mamma; it is quite light outside." needles, but she could say, "You must just not lose yours," as though such words had a charm to retain it. The invalid, however, was not to be beguiled from her mood. "I do not drop it on purpose, my dear. But you know what a sad helpless creature I am of an evening, when I have had all the worries of the day to go through; and if it should slip through my fingers, how am I to find it again? I cannot hunt it up myself, and Harrison has no eyes. If I send for her it upsets me altogether. It is rather hard that I am to be left to Harrison alone for my entire evening." This was to be expected; it was only wonderful that the prospective want of a companion during the hour which she spent in the sitting-room after dinner before retiring for the night, had not presented itself as a misery before. "I had thought to have had you, at least," pursued Mrs. Boscawen, in accents conveying, "You are not much, but still you are better than nothing." "I had been looking forward to hearing the end of the book Julia is reading to me. But I suppose, now that Douglas is gone, you will all three want to go everywhere. I shall have to give in, for I dislike, of all things, making myself a drag upon my children; but I must say, my hours of solitude are the most trying part of all my ill health." "But, dear mamma, it happens so seldom that you have any. You know we hardly ever go out at all, and you have "Adelaide will not have been able to never once been without one of us bematch my wool, I am sure." "I dare say she will; it is not a difficult blue to get." "More difficult than you think; there are so many shades nowadays. I wish I had told her to bring another case of needles. If I should lose this needle tonight, I should not know what to do; it is my last; I have not another anywhere. fore." "You would not like it yourself, Mat tie." Mattie was silent, assiduously bending over the tea-table, and by-and-by the benign influence of a strong and steaming cup began to appear. 66 My head is really better," the invalid allowed, "and perhaps it was as well that the others did "But Mattie is not going to-night, mamma." "Indeed she is. A little event happened whilst you were out. Your aunt sent over a special messenger to invite her. She is wanted to fill Douglas's place at the dinner-table." "And she is to go?" The voice was Adelaide's, but so changed was it from the jovial pleasantry of its tone on her first appearance that it sounded in her mother's ears perfectly appalling. In an instant Mrs. Boscawen took the alarm. She had done the wrong thing, and there was now no escape for her; instead of having the pleasure of recounting the details of the "little event instead of being able "Is that it? No, I do not want it very much, at least I think I can exist without it, Mattie; bring the glass to me. Here," continued the speaker, raising herself on her elbow, "this pretty bunch to dwell upon her difficulties in the matof scarlet geranium, and that spray of jester of the note, on Lady Turner's civility, samine will suit you better than the rose. and the groom's impatience, with the But we want some green; this piece of unction of one who had not often the myrtle I almost grudge the myrtle; but, chance of being a narrator, she was to however, it will not be wasted take be brought to the bar, and called on them now, my love; that is as pretty a sharply for her defence. bouquet as you could have." "Thank you, thank you, mamma." "I declare, you have quite a color today, Mattie." "Have I, mamma?" "You are generally pale, and this morning I fancied you particularly pale; I wondered if your head, too, ached. Now go and dress, my dear, for you will want help, and there is not so very much time. Harrison can go to you first, so as not to interfere with your sisters." They did not come in until the room had been silent for nearly a quarter of an hour. They had been round the garden and greenhouse after returning from their walk, having, like Mattie, a fancy for wearing natural flowers in their hair, and they now appeared laden with freshscented blossoms. "Heliotrope, even," cried Julia gaily. "I do think we manage well. Mamma, I would leave these with you, only I have nothing else to wear." In her confusion and astonishment the poor lady shuffled. "I did not like to refuse," she murmured uneasily. “I - I really did not know what to say." "Did you accept the invitation for her, mamma?" It was Julia whose accents now expressed, " Answer me that, without further circumlocution." "I for herself." Well, I allowed her to write Yes." "And to say she would go?" "She said she would go. A solemn silence ensued, during which the parent's heart quaked in spite of herself. She could not stand it. "If I had had a minute to think," her nervous apology ran, "if I had not been hurried so, I might have managed to hit upon some excuse. But the man was waiting, and Boyd insisted, and Mattie was no help to me one way or another. She never is, poor child. I was left entirely to myself; and yet I was told the answer must be sent immediately! It was all so quickly done, in such a bustle. Why were you so late in coming home, two? If you you had only been here "I did remember some ferns for your glass, mamma," subjoined Adelaide. "Here they are. But where are all the flowers gone?" inquired she, in surprise. "We could not tell that we should be They were only gathered this morning." wanted," said Adelaide gloomily; "but I "A marauder has carried them off. If am sure I wish with all my heart we had I had known you were going to the green-been." 66 house, I might have waited to see what Then she glanced at Julia, and there you brought in; but I gave them all to was a passing aside. "What is to be Mattie." done?" "To Mattie? What did Mattie want to do with them?" "If I had only had time," reiterated the culprit querulously. "People have "To wear them to-night, as you and no right to rush at one in that impetuJulia do." ous way, demanding answers on the spot. |