"As far as our experience goes, they are much maligned," said Roger; and since Roger's compliments only came from the fulness of his heart they were worth having, and Ailie looked gratified.

"Well, I am going," said Leonard, "only I may as well mention that I am quite ready to promise to spend all my Saturdays and Sundays out of town, if that will procure for Miss Leigh an occasional respite from her prison-house."

"We will have her with us as often as we can," said Mrs. Mordaunt. "But you will not desert us altogether, Leo. We shall see you again before the end of the week."

"Probably not," Leonard answered; "I do not often stray beyond the purlieus of the Temple, for I am testing the truth of the saying that there is a certain pleasure in hard work."

"Whose saying, Leonard?" asked Patty; but her cousin left the room without enlightening her.

"I am very unhappy about poor Leo," said Mrs. Mordaunt, as soon as she was alone with her husband.

"You had better find some other cause for unhappiness, for I was never better satisfied with him. He has been roused out of his dilettante, frivolous ways, and looks twice the man he was, and he seems to be taking in earnest to his profession, as it was full time he should."

"But he is so completely estranged from us, that I am afraid we shall lose him altogether."

"Try whether the estrangement will withstand the effect of two or three invitations to dinner," said Mr. Mordaunt incredulously.

Mrs. Mordaunt did try, but the invitations were declined. Once in a fortnight or three weeks, Leonard presented himself in Charles-street, as a matter of duty, and no longer on the old terms of intimacy. On the other hand, Mr. Mordaunt was justified in the prediction that he would really work at his profession; he had distinguished himself in the way he held his first brief, and for the first time since he came of age, he made no demand for an advance of money in anticipation of dividend-day.

CHAPTER XX.

It was the quiet sense of something won, and something lost; the fixed determination to put aside all dreams, all regret, all foolishness of sorrow; to set up the invincible might of endurance, the concentrated and essential energy of the soul, against the slights and assaults of fortune; to live his life, to work out his work, with a passiveness indifferent to success and strong only in the sense of duty.

PRECIOSA.

MIRIAM's first days at Miss Smith's establishment appeared to be of endless length, yet the weeks slipped by with marvellous celerity, and she had scarcely adapted herself to the strangeness of her new life, and a mode of teaching very unlike the system pursued in the Mordaunt schoolroom, before the other girls had begun to anticipate the delights of the Christmas holidays. But no one spoke of these home pleasures to Miriam, nor she to them. Her schoolfellows might appeal to her to unravel the intricacies of a German sentence, or to restore by a few bold strokes some meaning to a drawing from which it had been effaced by india-rubber and laboured pencilling, but no one dreamed of sharing any nearer interest with her. Her reserved manner repelled the curiosity and exchange of confidence in which schoolgirls are so ready to indulge; and indeed Miriam's absolute silence respecting her home, gave rise to the suspicion that

she shared the hapless fate of those to whom schooltide and holidays are alike.

But, while Miriam made no friends, she had not a few admirers, who, like Lilias Mordaunt, longed to approach her, yet felt every day that she was more unapproachable. Her high standard of right insensibly affected those with whom she came in contact, and there was less tittering and flippant talk before her, and fewer attempts to elude the authority which could not be openly defied. Yet even at the best, Miriam found the tone of her companions jarring and discordant with her own: she pined for solitude and freedom, and chafed against the trivial interests which served to vary the daily routine, the pattern of the silk dress which was being made for Louisa Steele, and the singular fact that Mr. Bassompierre invariably failed to keep his temper when he had forgotten to bring his snuffbox Iwith him to his French class. It was only in the little room, which Mr. Cornwall had stipulated should be her own, that Miriam could brace herself against the trials, which, petty in themselves, harassed her so grievously. Once alone and in the dark, Miriam would only creep to bed when she was too chilled and weary to sit any longer at her narrow casement, watching the quiet starlight, or seeking the reflex of a troubled spirit in the stormy clouds, now chasing wildly across the sky, now pausing in their career to catch the moonlight on their ragged edges. But Miriam loved the quiet beauty

best, for the wrestlings of an unsubdued temper were yielding to the "great calm" of a devout and courageous heart. Life was still a great mystery, and her lot a hard one, but as a mystery she was learning to accept it, and to struggle on through the darkness, hoping that light might at last be given to her.

One solace, granted for a time, was soon withdrawn. George had at first written constantly and in high spirits, and his sister hoped that he had at last found his vocation in life. But with the novelty, the charm wore off, and his tone changed; he revived the old complaint that it was not the profession of a gentleman, that the young farmers were slow, except the two or three who hunted, and that these would not associate with him unless he could do the like. Next it appeared that he had done the like, and then, in the natural course of events, came the assertion that it was impossible to live on the allowance assigned to him by Uncle Ralph, coupled with an inquiry whether he treated Miriam more liberally. Miriam replied by enclosing the five pounds which were sorely needed for the renovation of her own wardrobe, together with an admonition to be prudent for the future. She knew that she was weak, but George was still her darling brother, and she must do what she could to retain some influence over him. And the money was taken but not the advice.

Emma Barlow, generally considered the dullest and most uninteresting girl in the school, was the one Uncle Ralph.

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