find none sufficiently terse and expressive; and and settled itself in the wide flat of this level Mrs. Cumberland contented herself with a sigh country, where there is not another mound to of relief when they emerged from the dust with break the horizon- were matters more interestwhich this benevolent architecture filled the at-ing to Zaidee than to any of her companions. mosphere. They were quite cast out of their Mrs. Cumberland was languid, and reclined in a home, these unfortunate ladies. However beney-corner of the carriage. Mrs. Burtonshaw was olent the porch might be when completed, it interested, but depreciatory, making a perpetual threw most inhospitable obstacles in the mean comparison between Sylvo's place and this untime across the familiar threshhold, and access familiar country. Mary was wandering in her by door or window was equally denied to them. own thoughts, and noticed external matters only When they reached their faded drawing-room, by fits and starts; and no one knew how Zaiand looked out upon the closed shutters of this dee's eyes brightened at the sight of gorse and extremely fashionable and dingy little street, heather, and how friendly looked these grassy Mrs. Burtonshaw thought it the best possible op- heights of Malvern to one who had not seen for portunity for urging a return to Sylvo's place. eight long years the rugged elevation of Briarford Hill.

"You will go back to Essex now, of course, Maria Anna, said Mrs. Burtonshaw; you will not shut up these dear children here, to pine away and lose their health again. Keep up your spirits, Elizabeth, my love-we shall soon return again-for I am sure you looked quite a different creature in Sylvo's place."

CHAPTER XVIII-MALVERN.

We are

"Are we growing old, Elizabeth? not girls as we used to be," said Mary Cumberland. "Do you remember when we sat in that great room at Ulm, where mamma tried to make us think, and we would not, but quite made up for it when we were by ourselves? Do you remember all the sewing we used to do, and all our speculations? When Aunt Burtonshaw praised us for the one, she never dreampt of the other, Lizzy; but we never speculate now."

"But I cannot think of returning to Sylvo's place," said Mrs. Cumberland from her sofa. My dear Elizabeth, you are very kind, but we will take advantage of our opportunity, and have a change of scene. I have been thinking-we will not go to the coast, nor to Scotland, nor any place we have been before-we will go into the beautiful heart of England, my dear children. When your Aunt Burtonshaw and I were young, we were there once many years ago; we will go to Malvern-we will quite enjoy ourselves being "I suppose we were only looking at life then, alone. My dear Elizabeth, I trust you have no and now we are in it," said Mary musingly. objection; we shall be quite hermits, and enjoy"Nothing concerned us very much, and we could that beautiful hill." wonder at everything. Life is a strange thing,

"No," said Zaidee. She was plucking up the short hill-side grass unwittingly with her hands, and thinking her own private thoughts.

If Mrs. Burtonshaw had objections, it did not Lizzy-what is the good of all these humdrum seem that they were particularly important. quiet days, do you think? We never do any Mary being in the state of mind to which change thing-were we made for any use, do you supof one sort or another was indispensable, eagerly pose? Elizabeth! why can you not answer lent her assistance, and within a few days the me?" little party set out once more. "We know no

For Mary was as much given at ever to a comone there we will be quite alone, Lizzy," said parison of ideas, and as curious to know her Mary, with a sigh. Perhaps Miss Cumberland companion's opinion; while Zaidee, for her part, did not appreciate as her mother did the roman-was not very much more disposed to "rational tic delights of solitude, but Mary was eager to answers " than before.

set out from this desolate London, echoing with "I think God made the days," said Zaidee, emphasis the universal declaration that "no one" and he must see some use in them. We have was in town." An express North-western train to live our lives out, however long they may be. might have made London populous in a very few Do people sometimes wish for long life, Mary? hours for Mary, but "nobody" was in it now. If it was fifty years, or sixty years, what a dreary length of way!"

"My dear love, we will not stay long-we will soon come back to Sylvo's place," said Mrs. Burtonshaw, patting the beautiful head of Zaidee. Mrs. Burtonshaw, thought it was very cruel of Maria Anna to shut her eyes to the dear child's feelings so wantonly. What did any one care for Malvern? and it was easy to see how deeply interested this poor dear was in Sylvo's place.

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"Now, that is just in your old strain," said Mary Cumberland. Why should it be a dreary length of way? I have no regard for churchyards and tombstones, for my part; I am not in a hurry to live my life out,-one may be a little dull now and then, and wonder what is the good of one's self, without such dismal thoughts as these."

But Zaidee bore with wonderful fortitude the journey which carried her farther and farther Zaidee made no answer. They were seated away from Sylvo. Zaidee's fresh young spirit, upon the hill of Malvern, with some gray slopes and eyes shining with life and interest, traced towering above them, yet, at a considerable altiall these inland roads with pleasure. The apple tude; as far as they could see on every side, a trees on the pathway clustered with their russet vast level of cultivated country stretched into the fruit, and the pollard willows bristling over every skies,-low down at their feet lay the houses of little stream-the great Vale of Severn with its the little town, the gray towers of the abbey, and churches and towns, and that odd miniature the setting of rich orchards in which these habimountain which has lost its way so strangely, tations were enclosed,-while striking up from

the fertile flat were little far-off cities, sparkling | Nevertheless, she had been an extremely impruwith spires and gilded weathercocks, small an- dent guardian of her own happiness. Mr. Percy cient dignified cathedral towns,—and a faint line Vivian, perhaps, might be quite unaware of this far away, of broken banks over-lapping each oth- rich gift lavished on him; perhaps he was aware, er, with a thin silver thread here and there shin- and did not appreciate the possession: but whating out between, gave note of the Severn, tree-ever Mr. Percy Vivian's sentiments might be, less and laborless, pursuing his path to the sea. there was no longer any safeguard for Mary; The multitude of roads mapping this strange, her good sense, as Aunt Burtonshaw predicted, wide landscape in every direction-the morsels had been no defence to her; she had thrown of village glistening in a chance ray of sunshine, away her heart. and churches which in fancy you could lift in your hand, so dwarfed are they by the long distance, give a strange attraction to the scene. Of itself it is not a beautiful scene, and a dull sky sweeps down upon it, blending its unfeatured breadths with the clouds of the horizon; but the air, which has travelled many a mile since last it encountered any eminence, comes fresh and full upon this hill-side; and the eye, which is never satisfied with seeing, takes in with a peculiar gratification this singular extent of space presented to it, and revels in the world of air and cloud upon that vast uninterrupted sky.

"See, there is a bold road striking out by itself across all that wilderness of fields," said Mary. "What strange abrupt turns it takes; but it is not even crossed by another, so far as I can see that is a man's road, Lizzy,-for my part, I do not like travelling alone."

"It is not quite alone," said Zaidee, speaking low. "There is a little footpath hehind the hedge, sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other some one might walk perpetually under the hedgerow side by side with the traveller on the high-road, and he would never know."

:

"Well, I cannot say that makes it much more comfortable," said Mary, laughing. "You are mysterious to-day, Elizabeth. I do not like your secret people who travel under hedgerows. I like daylight and the broad highway for my own share. You like this place, do you not? I suppose I do; I don't want any one to talk to me; I want to think, Lizzy. How far away you can look, straining your beautiful eyes, Mr. Vivian would say. What a weary length these days are for August days. Heigh ho!"

"I think you are very innocent, Lizzy," said Mary, suddenly starting from an apparent contemplation of the landscape before her, of which landscape, in reality, she saw nothing." You never understand at all, nor seek to understand, what all Aunt Burtonshaw's hints and double meanings are full of. There, now, you look quite incredulous. Is it my fault if your thoughts are always at the end of the world? Who can you have to think of, Elizabeth? I suppose you never found out that Aunt Burtonshaw had double meanings at all?"

"No, indeed. I always understand Aunt Bur. tonshaw perfectly," said Zaidee, with a smile.

"Which means, that you are perfectly unconscious of all her endeavors," said Mary. "Aunt Burtonshaw_thinks-I really ought not to tell you-Aunt Burtonshaw believes you are very much interested in Sylvo, Elizabeth."

"Very much interested! I will not answer for the very much,'" said Zaidee; "but, indeed, I do think of Sylvo, Mary; only Sylvo will find some one better for him than you."

"You are a simpleton, and I will not enlighten you," said Mary. "What do you think of Mrs. Morton?" she asked abruptly, after a pause. Mary, but for very shame, would have been so glad to unbosom herself, and make a confidant of her friend-would have been so much relieved, indeed, if Zaidee had taken the initiative, and pressed into her confidence; but Zaidee was quite as shy of the subject as Mary was, though she was sufficiently clear-sighted to see how matters stood. Zaidee faltered a good deal. What did she think of Mrs. Morton-what did she think of Elizabeth Vivian, her cousin, the beautiful Elizabeth of the Grange? Zaidee felt herself change color painfully-she scarcely knew what to say.

"I heard Mr. Vivian say there was no woman like his sister; he ought to know best," said Zaidee.

But Zaidee was so little disposed to interrupt Mary's thoughts by talking, that it was Mary herself who broke the silence first. Mary was in a strange mood of restless idleness; she was perpetually changing her position, as she half sat and half reclined upon this bank of luxuriant greensward; laughter that was rounded with a It was an unfortunate speech in every way; sigh, and sighing which incontinently burst into unfortunate in its hesitation and faltering tonelaughter, were the signs and symbols of Mary's unfortunate in quoting Mr. Vivian-and, lastly, state of mind. She was greatly in want of some in the opinion it conveyed. Mary Cumberland little piece of excitement; her mind had a great did not choose that Percy should think his sister deal too much scope, wandering back and for- the first of womankind. She did not at all apward in a restless haste, speculating on the fu- preciate such an extent of fraternal affection; ture and on the past. Mary, half emerged from and Mary was piqued at the idea that any one her first enchanted maze, was full of a restless knew better than she did what Percy's opinion disquietude; her whole life beyond seemed hang-was.

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ing upon some uncertain decision- a nervous, I asked what you thought yourself, not what anxious, troublesome uncertainty-a decision Mr. Percy Vivian thought," said Mary. "One which she would be ashamed to expedite by any does not care for having Mr. Percy Vivian's measures of her own. Mary was not a little opinions at secondhand. He is a very great auashamed of herself for the length her thoughts thor, perhaps; but I would not quote him so had gone already, and scornfully scouted the idea often if I were you, Elizabeth." that any man" held her fate in his hands.

When Zaidee raised her eyes in astonishment,

she saw Mary, very red, and with a disturbed "Charitable views!" echoed Mrs. Burtonshaw; and troubled face, gazing down the hilly path," what sort of views will we have from our winwhile she plucked the grass by handfuls. Some dows when we get back to our poor, pretty, unone was toiling upward, looking about him fortunate house at Twickenham if, indeed, anxiously, sometimes pausing to survey the wide there are any windows left? The little wretches landscape behind him, sometimes turning aside will play at marbles and all sorts of games; it to gather a wildflower, but always on the alert, as will not matter to them if the Queen should come if looking for some one on the hill. As his figure to call. Mr. Cumberland has all his own way, advanced, Mary Cumberland's face varied like a Mr. Vivian. Maria Anna will give in to him, and changing sky; as it drew near and nearer, she I cannot describe to you the trouble I have. Do rose to her feet with irrestrainable excitement. not speak to me, Maria Anna! I have no paZaidee looked at her pretty form, relieved against tience with it; and it will be all the same, of the dark background of the hill, and at the course, whosoever comes to call." stranger advancing hastily, before she herself rose, and then with an instinctive impulse of reserve, to control and subdue her friend. Zaidee took Mary's hand with an involuntary grasp of caution, which Mary returned vehemently, and then the pretty fingers unclasped, and these two stood distinctly visible, waiting to greet Mr. Percy Vivian as he appeared out of breath behind an angle of the path. In the moment's "That delightful Grange which you described interval, Mary's good sense and Mary's pride to us once?" said Mrs. Cumberland from her sohad come to her rescue triumphantly. Percy fa; "and of course I recognized it again in your thought the beautiful sister gave him the warm-last charming book. When are you going to faest welcome, and was much concerned to see vor us with another, Mr. Vivian? But first tell Mary so reserved and stately; the young gentle- me how this reminds you of your own ancient man was extremely assiduous-extremely devot-romantic home." ed; he fancied he had been losing time.

CHAPTER XIX.-THE BEGINNING OF DANGER.

"So you found the young ladies, Mr. Vivian," said Mrs. Cumberland. Dear children! they love nature. I was convinced they were on the bill. I tell them we have nearly as good a prospect from this window; but they are young, and have more enterprise than I have. Is it not a delightful surprise, my dear Mary, to see Mr. Vivian here?"

"We were much astonished," says Mary in an under-tone. Mr. Vivian, who has looked up to catch her answer, though people say he has. a great knowledge of character, and though this constraint is the very thing with which he would endow his heroine in a novel, to evidence the state of her feelings in presence of her lover, has so totally lost his penetration that he is quite disappointed. "It was no pleasure to her, then," muses Percy; "only a surprise."

"For my part, I thought Mr. Vivian had come to tell us of some great misfortune," said Mrs. Burtonshaw "that the house had come down, or that Mr. Cumberland had had a fall, or some accident; nothing else was to be looked for, I am sure."

There has been no accident; Mr. Cumberland was in excellent spirits," said Percy, "and feels that he is making progress. The porch, I assure you, would accommodate a couple of poor families already, Mrs. Burtonshaw; and when Mr. Cumberland has his heating apparatus in order, I have no doubt it will be greatly patronized in the cold weather. If you were nearer town, a bcnevolent institution like this might be subject to abuse, Mrs. Cumberland. I am afraid a colony of London boys in immediate possession would not quite, carry out your charitable views."

"I had an interview with Mr. Cumberland on the lawn, over a heap of mortar," said Percy, while Mrs. Burtonshaw groaned aloud," and heard from him you were at Malvern. I had business in this quarter. No lack of views here, Mrs. Burtonshaw, though they are not charitable ones. This place reminds me a little, I scarcely can tell why, of my own home."

"I suppose because it is perfectly unlike," said Percy, with a little laugh. "There is no Grange on the hill of Malvern; but we stand upon a lesser eminence at home, and look out from our height upon a flat expanse, which this is just sufficient to recall to me. Our low country is not a cultivated plain, or a Vale of Severn; it is only a bleak stretch of Cheshire fields, a low sandy coast, and sullen sea. There are a multitude of roads, Mrs.Burtonshaw, all leading to the Grange, as you would suppose, and never a wayfarer on one of them; and we have a fierce little hill for our henchman, bristling with gorse, and armed with broken rocks, and undergo a perpetual siege and cannonade from all the winds. There are only inland gales at Malvern, but our visitors come fresh from the sea."

"It is very strange; that is like the place Elizabeth used to tell me of," said Mary.

And Mary, looking up, found Zaidee's eyes fixed upon her with such a trembling eagerness of entreaty, that her idea of resemblance between the two descriptions was quickened into instant certainty. She returned this beseeching look with a glance of the extremest surprise. Her curiosity was suddenly roused. What did it mean? When Mary's look left Zaidee, she met Mr. Vivian's; and Mr. Vivian had been watching this interchange of glances, and looked at her, earnestly repeating the question. Mary was quite perplexed; she could only look at Zaidee again.

"Perhaps Miss Elizabeth Cumberland has en in Cheshire," said Percy. Percy was very curious; but he always was, Mary remembered with wonder, in everything that concerned Elizabeth.

"No-no," said Zaidee hurriedly. She withdrew back out of the light of the window, and grew very pale. She dared not lift her eyes again, but sat trembling and in terror. Never had she been so near betrayed; and her ears tingled, al

most expecting to hear the cry of " Zaidee! Zai-| dee!" with which Percy could throw her disguise

to the winds.

"I a I am very glad, then. I think Mary will be happy," said Zaidee musingly. "Percy would not grieve any one; no, I am sure of that." For Zaidee did not think that Percy Vivian "Did you say Sylvo would not grieve? I do held her without a doubt for the daughter of this not think he will, my love," said Mrs.Burtonshaw. fantastic, kind Mrs. Cumberland, reclining on her" You do not ask me what my views are for Sylsofa-the sister of Mary, the niece of Aunt Bur-vo, now, Elizabeth; but you are quite right, my tonshaw. Percy could not account for his own dear child. I will not say anything of them; I interest in her, nor for sundry little occurrences will leave it all to Sylvo himself." which startled him with a vague wonder and suspicion. He never dreamed that she was Zaidee; he had not even connected her with the lost child; he had only a vague, floating curiosity about her, which he himself had no right to have, and did not understand.

แ Yes, Aunt Burtonshaw," said Zaidee. Sylvo was not farther from the scene in person than he was in imagination from Zaidee's thoughts she was thinking of Mary and Percy, in charmed twilight, with the sweet dew falling on their young heads, and the air full of the singing of nightinZaidee dared not withdraw to her own apart-gales. She was lingering for a moment in her ment to subdue her agitation. She must sit still maiden meditations upon that oldest and newest to watch the conversation, to hear what they said, subject of romance - that universal love tale to guard her secret at all hazards. She scarcely which somebody is always telling that unknew how the day went on as she sat among them, known witchcraft to which her own heart had watching them with this intense and steady vigi-never been tempted. Beguiled out of her mere lance: she made no sense of the buzz of words personal agitation, Zaidee's heart beat with a which rung in her ears. She only knew that her wondering sympathy; with a smile on her secret was not threatened, nor her possible knowl-lip, and a tear in her eye, she watched for edge of the Grange discussed again. There were Mary coming home out of the realm of fairya great many other subjects of interest to the oth-land, out of the enchanted twilight, to the lights er members of the party. There was one most absorbing topic in the minds of two of them, which, like Zaidee's secret anxiety, did not bear talking of; and beyond the surprise of the moment, Zaidee's brief and hurried answer was not remarked by her companions. She kept with the little company obstinately in her great anxiety. When Mary and Percy spoke aside for an instant, Zaidee was thrown into a secret agony; and when the evening came, and Mr. Vivian followed Miss Cumberland into the garden in the twilight to listen to the nightingales, Zaidee sat unseen by the window watching them, as they wandered through the trees. Her overpowering terror made her forget for the moment that they had other things to talk of than her secret- this secret which neither of them could have suspected till to-night, and which both had forgotten before now.

and common life of this dusky room. Zaidee's own eyes were dazzled by these lights, and with a pensive, wistful sweetness, through the tears that made them brighter, those beautiful eyes turned back again to the falling night. With a little visionary sadness, her thoughts too returned again to herself: all by herself, alone and solitary, this turning-point of youthful history must never come to Zaidee; she must never wish, nay, more than that, she must so guard her daily living that no affection shall be drawn towards her. No one must love Zaidee, if Zaidee can help it, except those kind friends who shelter her and the innocent hearts of little children. She must do no more harm, and it is strange to see her bending her beautiful face in the darkness, praying never to be tempted, praying to be left in her solitude, to harm no one any more.

CHAPTER XX.- -MARY'S FATE.

"These two young creatures, they are quite happy; they forget how cold the night air has grown," said Mrs. Burtonshaw, coming behind the Zaidee had gone to her own apartment thoughtchair where Zaidee sat alone looking out into the ful and somewhat anxious. Her mind, which had dewy darkness of the garden. "My dear love, begun to recover its composure, was stirred to its you are sighing; you are all by yourself, while depths once more, and her thoughts were full of a Mary is away. Ah! it is all very well to speak longing and wistful inquiry about Mary, who had of business in this quarter. I suppose Mr. Vivian been very silent and strangely reserved through is attending to his business among the trees yon-all that evening. Sitting in the shadow where der. These young men are such hypocrites, Elizabeth. I should be glad to see what lawful errand Mr. Vivian had here."

Relieved by remembering that there was no fear of her secret coming into discussion between two people who were busy with themselves, Zaidee bethought her of the disappointment of Sylvo's anxious mother.

"I am afraid, indeed, Mary likes Mr. Vivian, Aunt Burtonshaw," said Zaidee. "I should be very glad, if it were not for you."

"You are a dear, unselfish child," said Mrs. Burtonshaw, stooping to bestow a kiss on Zaidee's brow, "and you need not be sorry for me, my darling. I have quite made up my mind to lose Mary. I have other views for Sylvo now."

Zaidee could not see her face, answering in monosyllables, and in a voice so low and shy that even Aunt Burtonshaw was astonished. Mary had given no indication of Mr. Vivian's business, nor of how it sped. As Zaidee went about her own chamber, preparing for rest, her ear was caught once or twice by a faint rustling in the passage outside. She turned to listen with quick curiosity, and in time to see Mary softly open the door and look in, with a momentary investigation. I thought you had lain down by this time," said Mary. "I have been waiting till you were quiet, and the light out. Why don't you go to bed, Elizabeth? Young people should not sit up so late at night-there, let me put out the light."

Before Zaidee could remonstrate, the little

light was extinguished, and in the faint radiance | killed myself sooner than have let him fancy I of the moon, Zaidee saw her friend drawing near cared for him when he did not care for me." her with a shy yet hasty step. "Sit down, Liz- It was not necessary for Zaidee to say anyzy; I have a great deal to say to you," said her thing; the stream of communication was intervisitor, and Mary herself drew a stool to Zaidee's rupted, but continuous, and wanted no help as it feet, and threw herself down beside her half-flowed on. kneeling, embracing her companion's waist, and leaning on her knee. But though this satisfactory attitude was assumed, the great deal that Mary had to say remained still unsaid. She leaned her soft cheek on Zaidee's hand, and Zaidee knew instinctively that it was warm with blushes of pride, and shame, and pleasure: she played with Zaidee's fingers, folding them over her lips; she held Zaidee's waist more closely with her arm; but Mary was quite content to lean here, as it seemed, and forget that she had anything to say. Mary, tell me," said Zaidee-Zaidee's own heart beat high with sympathy. Zaidee, though she was quite new to it, and had never been much a confidant before, had an instinctive perception of the tale which Mary came to tell.

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My mother never taught me to go to her; I cannot tell Aunt Burtonshaw. I never have had any one but you, Elizabeth, that knew all my heart!"

This was the beginning of Mary's confession, and then there followed a long pause-so long a pause that Zaidee feared this was all, and that there was nothing to follow.

"I have never been like you, Elizabeth. I do not think I deserve to have a very noble nature near me," said Mary. "Instead of being very glad as I thought I should be, I think I am sad to-night-not sad either-I cannot tell how I am. It is so strange, so very strange. I think I am venturing into a new country. Perhaps I had better have been content with Sylvo, Elizabeth," said Mary, rising into her more natural tone; one could find out Sylvo's depth, poor fellow, and measure him to all his height-no one will be troubled with anything wonderful in Sylvobut now!"

Mary's voice sunk again, and so did Mary's cheek, once more resting on Zaidee's hand. The office of confidant and confessor to Mary was doomed to be rather a perplexing one.

"A common person," said Mary again, with a little sigh of self-contempt. "Yes, I think I should only have had a common person. I cannot tell why this strange fortune has come to me. If I had been full of dreams and fancies, Elizabeth, like what one reads of-perhaps like what you have, my beautiful sister; but you are sitting here by yourself, Lizzy, with all your sweet thoughts and your lovely face, and this

has come to me."

"It is best for me to be alone," said Zaidee; "and this should come to you, for it is your proper fortune. I have been sure of it since ever Percy came."

"Do you call him Percy?" said Mary, raising her head in sudden wonder. "Well, but of course, Lizzy had no reason to be ashamed, no need to be so precise as I was," she continued, with a low laugh. "I was so much ashamed of myself, Elizabeth. Do you know, I thought he had found me out. I thought he was coming to enjoy his triumph. I really do think I could have

"But instead of that!"- Mary paused and lingered on the words, "instead of that! I think it can only be a poet who is so reverent of women," said Mary, touched to the heart by the deference of her betrothed. "We are no such great things after all, Elizabeth. We are very poor creatures, a great many of us. Fancy me standing listening to him. I am nobody; I am only Mary Cumberland; and he, bending that noble heart of his, and speaking as if he spoke to a princess,-he whom all the world honors. I don't believe it is true after all, and that makes me melancholy," said Mary, with a change in her voice, "it is his own eyes that see something else in me than what I have."

A long pause followed after this, which Zaidee only disturbed by a silent caress of sympathy and encouragement; and she resumed her monologue.

"Did you wonder what I meant putting out the light? I will be your maid now, Elizabeth, since I have left you in the dark; but you do not think I could come in, and sit down opposite you, and tell you all this, looking in your face, with that inquisitive candle twinkling like a saucy listener. You cannot see how I am looking, Lizzy-it does me no harm that you are shining over me with those eyes of yours. It is very hard to have eyes looking into one's heart. Yes, I think he has enchantment in his, Lizzy; they make beauty for themselves wherever they glance. And suppose he should awake some time, and instead of the princess whom he spoke to tonight, find only me! I do not think I was very humble before, bu. one grows humble in spite of one's self when one is addressed so grandly. He thinks I have a noble nature like his own, Elizabeth—a pure religious spirit, like what you are, Lizzy; and when I try to convince him, he only smiles and thinks the more of me. When he finds it is only plain working-day Mary Cumberland, what will he say?"

"That she is better than all the princesses," said Zaidee, clasping her friend round with her loving arms; and then Mary cried a little, with a sob half of joy and half of melancholy, and then ran off into low. sweet, tremulous laughter, as she raised her head from Zaidee's knee.

"You think I am very humble, do you not?" said Mary, "yet I am afraid I shall be as saucy as ever, and as stupid, and as perverse when tomorrow's daylight comes. Do you want to go to sleep, Elizabeth ?-for I had rather stay here, if you are as wakeful as I am. I have made a great many resolutions to night-I should not like him to change his opinion of me, Lizzy; but I am afraid they will all vanish with to-morrow. One cannot overcome two-and-twenty years in a single day."

And thus they sat in the moonlight talking a great deal, and quite forgetful of the lapse of these swift-footed hours; their low voices whispered so lightly that no one woke in the neigh