form of pre-eminent youthful beauty with which to compare her friend, except his brother.

Presently she saw some writing in pencil along the margin of the drawing, and was about to read it, when she paused, rolled up the drawing and laid it down again. She went on thinking to herself:

"Perhaps I ought not even to look at these things; I did not ask leave. I will not read that writing, though it must concern Arundel, and I would give a great deal to know all about his illness, and how my aunt cured him; for papa says she did cure him. If she would tell me a little about how to manage people who have attacks of insanity like Arundel! I will ask her. Papa says all learned people are fond of talking about their studies. I suppose my aunt is as learned as a physician. But I cannot quite understand how she can take a pleasure, as James says she does, in going to see all sorts of mad people. To go to see some one she loved if he were mad-even to have him in her house as she did Arundel -that I can understand. I think I could bear to see those I love suffer in that way-worse than poor Naldo's!—but strangers! Aunt must be a much better Christian than most people. If ye love them that love you, what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same?' It is those who are despised and trodden down of men that she cares for."

She approached the table again. "I may look at the books, I suppose. What is this new one with the handsome binding? Oh, a presentation copy! A Mademoiselle Hastings, avec les sentiments distingués de l'Auteur.' Oh, my aunt knows French authors, does she? If it were a book of fairy tales, now! Let me see:- Traité Médico-Philosophique sur l'Aliénation Mentale, par Ph. Pinel, Médecin consultant de sa Majesté l'Empereur et Roi, etc., etc. Humph!" She took up another book—“An Inquiry into the Nature and Origin of Mental Derangement."" Another-"Annals of Insanity, Lunacy, or Madness.' Then another-" Treatise on the Real Cause of Insanity-Harper.' All about insanity. Let me look at the shelves. Über Melancholie,' that's German!

'Della Pazzia in generale ed in spezie,' Italian!! Oh, auntie, auntie! how did you ever find time to learn all these languages? Observations, par M. Pussin, sur les Fous de Bicêtre.' Where is Bicêtre, I wonder! Medical Journal.' What a number of volumes. What's this? Observations on Insanity, by John Haslam.' Oh, dear! oh dear!" She sat down on her aunt's chair before the desk, and mused.

"Insanity, nothing but insanity. 'Fous!' 'Insensés !'

'Aliénés !' To look at all those books one would think half the world was insane. James says that there are a great many more people of unsound mind than I suppose. What a dreadful thing! But dear Arundel was not mad. He never hurt anybody, was never violent. I wonder whether there are many kinds of madness, some that can be cured. Oh yes, learned physicians would not go on writing so many books about a disease they know they cannot cure. Aunt has cured, or helped Dr. Ward to cure, insane people. How happy it must make her! If I had any one I loved dearly, dearly, and he was to go raving mad, what should I feel towards any one who would cure him? But I talk about madness; I never saw a mad person." And she shuddered. "I don't think I could bear to see any one really mad. Even now it makes me cold all over when I think of Arundel as I saw him that evening. But he surely was not what is called mad. Yet, how dreadful it was to see him look, as if he had no understanding. James says he is cleverer than ever now, and gayer than he used to be. I shall see him soon!"

Her thoughts were wandering away to a pleasant subject, when her eye fell on the open page before her, where she read these words "Aliénation originaire ou héréditaire.' I should like to know something about this terrible disease, and yet it frightens me." Her hand trembled so that she could scarcely turn over the leaves. As she was forcing her mind to the comprehension of some sentence in the book, her aunt entered.

When she saw how Margaret was employed, she put her

hand over the open page, and said, "My dear child, never open any books or papers you may chance to see here. There are plenty of books in the drawing-room that will instruct and amuse you. These books are not fit for you. Give me your promise that you will not look into any of them."

Margaret promised, for there was a tone of command in her aunt's voice which she could not resist, and the crowd of questions retreated from her lips. She certainly was a little afraid of her aunt.

Dinner and tea-time passed, and Margaret, though not cheerful, was beguiled by the novelty of all about her, and felt none of the melancholy which had oppressed her ever since her mother's death. She felt it slightly in the evening when, seated in Dr. Ward's chair, in the study, she watched her grave aunt steadily reading the forbidden Pinel. The poor girl's thoughts wandered away home; she leaned back and closed her eyes, the better to call up before her a picture of the drawing-room at the rectory, as it would be at that moment. She knew where her papa would be sitting, and what book he would be reading aloud, in order to make the motherless group a little gayer by his presence. She could see Sophia, and Tom, and Clara; and Henry, she fancied, Iwould be with them.

Just as she was settling in her own mind what Henry would be doing, a loud ring at the gate-bell was heard. It startled both aunt and niece. The former pushed back her book, and remained looking towards the door, with some anxiety depicted in her face. Margaret sat up and looked at the door too.

CHAPTER VIII.

LOVE AND DEATH.

"Yet in these ears till hearing dies,
One set slow bell will seem to toll
The passing of the sweetest soul
That ever looked from human eyes."

In Memoriam.

A CARRIAGE was heard winding slowly along the little drive from the gate to the house, and there was some confusion among the servants at this unusually late visit. Within a minute after the carriage drew up at the porch, a man's step, rapid and somewhat heavy, was heard approaching the door of the study, which was thrown open by Audrey, and the visitor walked in before she could announce him. As the room was ill-lighted by the single reading-lamp which stood on the table beside Miss Hastings, and which dazzled her eyes as she looked up, she could not, at first, discern his face. Her niece, who was lost in shadow, and who remained unperceived by the new comer for some minutes, knew him in a moment, notwithstanding a certain strange almost stern look, which was not habitual to him. It was Lord Carleton. He stood looking at Miss Hastings till she recognised him. As soon as she did so, she became paler than usual, and rising slowly, advanced a step.

"What is it brings you here ?" she inquired in a gentle voice. "Is Arundel

“You had my note this morning?"

"A note from you? I have not received it.'

66

Strange! It was delivered to one of your servants. I ought to have been sure that it never reached your hands!I wrote at Caroline's request, soon after Dr. Ward's announcement, early this morning, that within thirty hours she would be no more. She has something to communicate you before▬▬”

to

For the first time his voice faltered a little.

"Can it be possible! Is she so much changed since I last saw her three days ago ?"

"There is little perceptible change in her. You will come? -I cannot wait. Nothing but her earnest entreaty could have induced me to leave her. She believes that you would not refuse if I came myself. We were sorely puzzled that you neither came nor replied to my note."

"In one moment I shall be ready. she left the room.

Wait here." And

Lord Carleton began to pace to and fro, with his eyes bent on the floor. He looked sterner than ever; but Maggie was brave when moved by affection; she would have faced fifty stern pre-occupied men to gain her object now. She rose from the great chair, stood before him, and looking steadily into his face, said,

May I go with you and my aunt? I love Lady Carleton. She will not be able to see me-I know that. Only let me go to the house! I will be still-keep out of everybody's way! Only let me be near her!"-And she clasped her hands in earnest supplication.

The fixed severity of Lord Carleton's face relaxed. He laid his hand on her head gently. "My good little girl, I know that you love her, and that she loves you. She spoke of you to-day, said she wished to see you. But you will hereafter be obliged, perhaps, to see those you is very painful. You had better remain here."

love die. It

"You forget, my lord. It is but two months since I saw my own mother die-and before that, Naldo. I can bear death. Do not think I am too young.

Lady Carleton once more!"

Let me see dear

"As you please, my child. Ask your aunt," he replied, relapsing into his former manner, as Miss Hastings returned, wrapped in a large cloak. "May your niece come with us? Caroline will like to see her for a moment. She is attached to the child."

Miss Hastings looked in Margaret's face, and then said,