said, in a composed and steady voice, "I think the potatoes must be roasted."

Any disposition to canvass an act so much at variance with Miriam's habitual self-possession, was forgotten when they returned, in the more absorbing interest of Susan's engagement. No one was taken by surprise; and, indeed, now that the sisters were at liberty to declare openly in the schoolroom the surmises which had been long whispered to each other, it appeared that Minny piqued herself on the acuteness which had decided some months ago that Mr. Merton "meant something" by the inquiry where Miss Mordaunt was, one day when he met Minny alone. Susan was gratified by her sisters' hearty and open satisfaction, and only annoyed by the impetuosity which led them to assume that the weddingday must be fixed, and that no time should be lost in deciding the bridesmaids' dresses.

"I suppose you want to get rid of me," she said; a reproach which called forth many protestations to the contrary.

"Indeed," Patty observed, "I think it is very good of me to be pleased with your marriage at all; for it will be a great bore not to have you to go out with me my first year."

Miriam sat a little apart, a stranger to the family interest, yet with no other refuge. She did not speak until Susan went up to her, and asked kindly, though not without constraint, whether she was tired.

"No, thank you," she said, looking up; "not more tired than when I went out. Kiss me, Susan, and let

me say that I am glad."

Susan kissed the upturned face, and replied, low and hurriedly, "Thank you, dear, I do not deserve that you should wish me joy. Yet you need not grudge my seeming happiness, for if I could, I would change places with you to-day."

"With me!" Miriam repeated to herself, seeking in vain to divine the meaning of the words. "There is only one possession for which she could envy me. But that is past, since Leonard's love is mine no more, and she is given to another."

CHAPTER XVIII.

Often rebuked, yet always back returning

To those first feelings that were born with me,
And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning
For idle dreams of things which cannot be.
To-day I will not seek the shadowy region,
Its unsustaining vastness waxes drear,
And visions rising, legion after legion,

Bring the unreal world too strangely near.

EMILY BRONTE.

"I TELL you what, Miriam," George said, rather disconsolately, "I don't see much fun in staying here, now Susan is engaged."

"I am glad you begin to find our life irksome," rejoined Miriam. "Now, perhaps, you will urge Uncle Ralph to come to some decision about you. think how much happier you would be, yourself."

You cannot

working for

"I don't know about that; but certainly it is a great bore to have Roger always lecturing me on imaginary slights to you, and instead of having Susan to stand by me, as usual, she is writing letters, or walking with Mr. Merton. It remains to be seen whether I shall mend matters by following the plough; and indeed I am not sure that it is the profession for a gentleman."

"What does it signify?" said Miriam impatiently. "Oh, George, I wish that you would feel with me that

'the life of him that dependeth on another man's table, is not to be counted for a life.' I would be a governess to-morrow, if any one would take me; and I would rather break stones on the road than saunter through life as you wish to do.”

George only laughed at her earnestness. "I am not ambitious," he said; "you and Uncle Ralph have determined to make a farmer of me, and I submit; but I maintain that it is a better thing to be a gentleman at large. And meanwhile it is Roger's question, not mine are you to be immured in the château at Duck Dub, when the Mordaunts go to town; or do you make one of the schoolroom party?"

"I shall stay here, of course. They will not take me to London now, and I could not go if they asked me. But I think Uncle Ralph will be glad to let me go to school, for he looks oppressed by the thought that I shall invade his solitude all the winter."

"To school?" repeated George; "I wonder what Leonard Wray will say to that. It follows rather comically on the engagement."

Miriam clasped her hands with an impatient gesture. "You like to taunt me, George, and I am weary of asking you to let the subject rest."

"Young ladies generally like to be reminded of their conquests," answered George.

Miriam turned away to hide the tears which were forced from her, not by her own griefs, but by mortifica

tion on her brother's account. The illusion with which she had once invested him was dispelled; and while she still strove to believe him thoughtless, rather than utterly selfish, she became every day more keenly sensitive to the conviction that he was vulgar, flippant, and shallow. And to him she must devote her life, and blot out even the memory of that image which now rose up before her with almost overpowering distinctness, the gay, courteous ease, the spirited bearing, above all, the deep and earnest nature, underlying an apparent shallowness. But the past was irrevocable; and Miriam was not one to flinch from her purpose. At that very moment, Mr. Cornwall came up the gravel walk which she and George were pacing, and when he would have passed with a simple greeting, she intercepted his progress.

"Mr. Mordaunt is out, Uncle Ralph; and Susan and Mr. Merton are in the drawing-room."

"And don't want to be interrupted. Then I will take refuge in the study."

"Can you wait one moment, Uncle Ralph?"

"As many as you please, my dear; but I thought I was only in your way."

"George and I have been talking over our plans," continued Miriam, dashing into the subject; "he is anxious to know if you have done anything about boarding him with a farmer."

"Why, yes. In fact," said Uncle Ralph, looking a