CHAPTER X.

Tief unter grüner Meereswell',

Auf Muschelbank und Kies,

Da schlummert mancher Schiffsgesell,

Der frisch vom Lande stiess.

FREILIGRATH.

LEONARD's departure made no outward change in the routine of Miriam's life. She presented herself in the schoolroom at the Mains with the same regularity as before, nor did she relax the diligence with which she fulfilled her allotted tasks. Her manner also remained unchanged, but as the young Mordaunts became accustomed to her silence and chilling reserve, the restraint was no longer felt, and she was regarded neither with dislike nor affection, but with the indifference which is perhaps more mortifying. "In fact," Patty observed to her elder sister, "we might almost forget she was in the room, if she was not always ready to answer a hard question, or puzzle out a difficult sentence in Schiller."

Susan also went on her way, leading the pleasant, holiday-making life reserved for young ladies of her age and position in society. Her mornings were devoted to music and embroidery; in the afternoons she rode with her father, or paid visits with Mrs. Mordaunt; and dinner-parties at home, or in the neighbourhood, usually accounted for two or three evenings of the week. Ailie,

the universal confidante, learned from Mrs. Mordaunt that Susan's restraint in general society was wearing off, and that to Mr. Merton in particular, her manner was so little discouraging, that she did not despair of seeing the romance brought to a happy conclusion. But Ailie herself, who however only saw her at home, fancied that Susan's natural cheerfulness had given place to a forced and flighty animation, which did not argue real lightness of heart.

Thus the days slipped by, until September came, with its short and glorious days, and Miriam secretly began to count the time which must still intervene before Leonard's return. It was not Leonard, however, who was to make the first break in the monotony of her life. An unusual clamour of tongues greeted her ears one morning, when she entered the schoolroom, and the presence there of Mrs. Mordaunt and Susan prepared her for the announcement of some event of family interest. Lilias was the first to perceive Miriam's entrance, and she turned towards her, her pale face lighted up by a glow of excitement. "Oh, Miriam! the Leopard has arrived! She is lying off Falmouth, and as she is not to be paid off at once, Roger has applied for leave, and he may be here this afternoon."

"You must be very glad," said Miriam, in her quietest voice. Susan had never before so thoroughly appreciated the force of Uncle Ralph's frequent complaint, "that she was worse than a wet blanket."

But Lilias was too happy to perceive or to be hurt by the tone of her reply. "So glad! He has been made a lieutenant since he went away, two years and a half ago, so we have not seen him in his new uniform. And the letter is to me."

"And such a charming production!" said Mrs. Mordaunt, displaying the five or six lines of writing which were scrawled over one side of an ill-folded sheet. "I give up the composition, but I hope, Miss Alison, that you may be able to do something for his penmanship while he is at home."

"You forget the dignity of a young lieutenant," observed Miss Alison.

"Oh! I don't believe he is a day older than when he went away," replied Mrs. Mordaunt; "dear old Roger! I shall be so glad to see his dear honest face again."

After a little more talk, she left the room to see about the preparation of his room, and Susan only lingered for another moment. "I shall go to Duck Dub

at once," she said. "It is worth while to tell Uncle Ralph a piece of good news; and he was always so fond of Roger."

She set off accordingly, at a brisk pace, which soon brought her within sight of the ungainly house. She had just crossed the lane and entered the grounds, when the sound of wheels attracted her attention, and she

turned and saw a gig drawn up before the crazy gate on which she had animadverted in a former visit.

"Why, Roger!" she exclaimed, and the person so addressed responded to the appeal without delay, springing out, and vaulting over the gate.

"You unnatural boy!" continued Susan, after submitting to a very warm embrace, "why have you come round by Duck Dub instead of taking the straight road home?"

"To show him the way," Roger answered, pointing to his companion in the gig. "This is a real nephew of Uncle Ralph's, and he wants to see his sister, who is living here, as I suppose you know."

"I suppose I do," said Susan, laughing. "But where did you pick him up? I thought he was in Australia."

"Off the high seas," said Roger briefly: "I will tell you about it presently, but first we must dispose of the individual. I say, Leigh," he shouted unceremoniously, without troubling himself to return to the gate; "this is my sister, so you may as well get out and find your own way up to the honse, and then we can drive home together."

George prepared to comply with the suggestion with evident reluctance. "I wish you would go up to the house with me," he said, as he alighted. "Miriam may go into hysterics or something, and then there is only Uncle Ralph to help her out of them."

"And much good I should be!" said Roger gruffly;

"I know that I should be off like a shot if my sisters attempted anything of the sort."

"I doubt if Miriam is more given to hysterics than we are," said Susan, amused by the threat; "however, she is at the Mains just now, and the best plan will be for you to drive on at once. I shall be at home as soon as you are, by the foot-path, and I feel that I am defrauding the family, and Miriam too, of their share of the excitement."

Quickly as Susan retraced her steps, the young sailor's reckless driving brought him first to. the house. The sound of wheels brought some eager faces to the schoolroom window, and in another moment the room was deserted by all but Miriam. Miss Alison only tarried to say, "Will you not come down, my dear?" and when Miriam quietly declined, she followed in the train, almost as eager as the rest to greet one who had been at once the torment and the pride of her schoolroom.

Miriam would not go to the window to see the glad meeting, and she wished that she could as easily have shut her ears to the joyous tumult of voices, ascending to the open window. Shut out from all share in such joy, and unwilling to ask herself whether she was in any degree responsible for her isolation, she hid her face, and cried silently, after her wont.

She knew not how many minutes had elapsed before there was a return of footsteps along the passage, then a pause, a whispered discussion at the door, and then a