moods I was ready to envy that poor pale girl whose engagement to your cousin was so rudely severed, since she at least loved and was loved again; but that is past. You are cold, dear, I felt you shiver.'

6

No, I am not cold,' said Susan; and it was true that she had only shivered at the unconscious echo of her own words to Miriam. For a moment her heart had bounded at the prospect of release from her engagement; but there was a sudden revulsion as she was reminded of that requited love, and of the proof of Leonard's indifference to herself afforded by his letter that morning. The only result of this conversation was, on her side, a more fixed determination to submit to an inevitable destiny, while to Mr. Merton it was merely a lover's quarrel, which had riveted his chains more firmly than before.

188

CHAPTER XIX.

Such is the powre of that sweet passion,
That it all sordid basenesse doth expelle,
And the refyned mind doth newly fashion
Unto a fairer forme, which now doth dwell
In his high thought, that would itselfe excell,
While he, beholding still with constant sight,
Admires the mirrour of so heavenly light.

SPENSER.

ARLY in November the Mordaunts went to

EA

London, George to a farmer in Cumberland, and Miriam to a school on Blackheath. Of all those who had frequented the path between Duck Dub and the Mains, Uncle Ralph alone remained, and he traversed it as seldom as possible, solacing himself as best he might, in the companionship of Job, his books, and his ground plans.

Miriam went to town with the Mordaunts, and Miss Alison took her down to Blackheath on the same day. She had herself disclaimed the wish to remain even for a night in London; nor did Mrs. Mordaunt evince any desire to moderate her impatience to enter at once on her new career. In the course of their long drive from Paddington to London Bridge, amid reminiscences of the straits and necessities of a former residence in one of the back streets of Marylebone and speculations

respecting her school life, Miriam also found leisure to scan with unconscious eagerness every passerby whose form and feature bore a faint resemblance to that of Leonard Wray. And all the while Leonard was awaiting the family arrival in Charles-street. He was angry with himself for going; but he went notwithstanding, and employed himself in altering the arrangement of the furniture, setting the clocks going, and inveighing against the unpunctuality of the train. The approach of the family carriage with two luggage-laden cabs in its train, drew him to the window. He also scarcely knew for what he had looked, until he turned away from the discovery that the slight figure in deep mourning was missing from the schoolroom party; and with compressed lips, and a countenance in which there was little welcome, he met his aunt on the stairs.

'My dear Leo!' Mrs. Mordaunt exclaimed, with genuine satisfaction, 'I did not expect to find you here. This is just like old times.'

'With a difference,' said Leonard half aloud; and then he asked, with a quick, keen glance, 'What have you done with Ailie ?'

'She will be here this evening,' replied Mrs. Mordaunt evasively; and Leonard asked no more. He shook hands with his uncle with the air of a man who goes through a disagreeable duty, and then followed Susan into the back drawing-room.

'Well, Susan, I am glad that your affairs are satisfactorily arranged; I am quite ready to accept Anthony Merton for a cousin, and I suppose the happy coincidence of love and two thousand a year obviated any parental opposition.'

Susan looked deeply wounded, and Leonard

hastened to explain his words. 'I intended no reflection on you, whose disinterested romance I have laughed at and admired all my life; I only meant, that while you learned to like Merton for his own sake, it was natural that his circumstances should have some weight with my uncle. You must not think that I rejoice less sincerely in your happiness, because I alluded, perhaps too bitterly, to the contrast it presents to my own lot.'

The words were spoken kindly, but with no deeper feeling, and if Susan hoped to attain a like indif ference in giving herself to another, the time was not yet come. The massive gold bracelet which had been her lover's parting gift, seemed to weigh more heavily than a fetter of iron; but she turned it on her arm, and held her peace.

Mrs. Mordaunt, complaining of feeling tired and travel-worn, wished for a cup of tea from the schoolroom, in anticipation of dinner, and Leonard offered to deliver the message. 'I did not like to vex him by refusal,' she observed, when he was gone, and it is evident that he will not rest until he hears something of Miriam; but I hope the girls will be discreet. Perhaps you had better go upstairs, Susan.' But Susan did not act upon the suggestion, and Mrs. Mordaunt did not press it, thinking her depressed by her first separation from ' Anthony.'

'Aunt Helen wants Minny to take her a cup of tea,' said Leonard, as he entered the school-room; and Minny being thus disposed of, he established himself in the only easy chair the room afforded, and proceeded to cross-question the elder sisters. 'Where is Ailie, and why has she not come with you ?'

The two girls coloured, and Patty answered cautiously, 'She is to come back to-night.'

'Yes, but where from? Where is she now ?'

There was a pause, presently broken by Lilias. 'I don't see why we should not tell Leonard, for Mamma never said it was to be a secret. Ailie is taking poor Miriam to a school on Blackheath.'

'To school!' Leonard repeated, as he started up from his lounging position. That piece of tyranny passes all which went before. If it has come to that, no power on earth can forbid my interference.' 'Miriam asked to be allowed to go,' said Lilias nervously.

'Then why did you say poor Miriam ?'

'I do not know, except that I should pity any one who went to school; and I do not think she would have wished it unless she had been very friendless and unhappy.'

'She said that she should enjoy her drawing lessons,' said Patty; and her cousin turned from her impatiently.

it was no love of And so Lily must pine, and whether

'Lily's is the true instinct; drawing which influenced her. tell me whether she seemed to she ever named me, or coloured when I was named by others.'

'She could not well be paler or more silent than she was before,' said Lilias; and I do not think she was ill. She never spoke of you.'

6

Oh, Lily! you remember the picture!' said Patty eagerly. Mrs. Mordaunt was certainly sanguine when she trusted to her daughters' discretion.

'What picture ?' inquired Leonard; and Patty