their endeavours to dissuade Edith from following the funeral in her present state of health; but, thanking them for their kind motive, she said

"You must not think me obstinate or wilful, but knowing how strong his feeling was about poor mamma, I should never be happy if Herbert and I neglected the last mark of affection and reverence which we can ever pay him." So her wishes were no longer opposed.

On the evening of that day, Mr. Walton gently broke the tidings of their ruin to the orphans in Mrs. Sinclair's presence. Herbert's grief at the prospect of leaving his beautiful home and all his favourites was very bitter, but he did not look beyond, and see the poverty that was in store. Edith outwardly bore the intelligence with calmness, but her soul was racked; she gave not a thought to her share in the blow, it was for Herbert only that she mourned; how was she now to fulfil her vow, and secure his happiness and comfort? She appeared, at first, stunned by the shock, but, presently rousing herself, begged of Mr. Walton to tell her everything, adding—

"I can already see the mercy and love that

removed our dear father from all this misery; we are young and strong, but, in his enfeebled state, how could he have borne privation and want? and how could I have witnessed it? Thank God, I am spared that grief, which would have been the heaviest of all."

It was agreed, between the men of business, that any cash, now in Edith's possession for current expenses, should be retained by her, besides any personal property that was her's by gift. After some consultation, Herbert's legacy of his mother's trinkets was also placed on the same category, and, these few articles being packed up, Edith prepared to bid adieu to her ancestral home for ever, and to return with Mrs. Sinclair to Nepton, where she was to remain till she could arrange some plan for her future life. Mr. Walton, whose stay had been already prolonged much beyond its original limit, was now leaving the neighbourhood, and offered to take Herbert home with him, and place him with his nephews, as a day-boarder, at a clergyman's in the next parish to that in which he resided, till Edith had made up her mind what course to pursue with him.

The brother and sister were sorry to part so

soon, but the advantage was not to be refused, and Edith gratefully accepted Mr. Walton's kindness, feeling sure that he would be safe under his care. She had the satisfaction of leaving no debts behind her, for Mr. Howard had, in the week preceding his death, perhaps with some presentiment of his approaching end, with her assistance, arranged his little matters of business, and paid all his bills; the household had also very lately received their wages, and when Edith offered to discharge the small balance still due to each, they one and all refused to diminish their dear young mistress's slender resources-expressing much regret that they could afford her no greater proof of gratitude and attachment.

The last day came, and with it sad partings from many kind, though humble friends, for Edith was much beloved in the village, and not a few were the little tokens of affection she received at their hands. She had also met with kindness in the neighbourhood, from many of her father's friends and acquaintances; several had invited her to their houses whilst arranging her future course. She had been permitted to make a selection of some of

Mr. Howard's books in addition to her own library, which she felt would be the most valuale possession she could retain. One only request she made, to keep the euphorbia, it was readily granted, and she consigned it, by Mr. Walton, to Laura's care, as her father had a hot-house to preserve it safely in. Edith felt almost ashamed of this weakness, but had not resolution to deny herself this treasured plant, nor could she bear to think of its being purchased by some nurseryman to furnish bouquets to, and be worn by, all who chose to buy them.

CHAPTER X.

"And there, in humility, he thought, he resolved, and promptly acted."-TUPPER.

SADDER far was poor Edith's arrival at her old school home than her departure from it. Her fears or light sorrows were then but in anticipation, but now grief and misery had indeed truly come upon her. Yet no! misery we may not say, for that can never be whilst the soul can stay upon its God—and desolate as she could but feel, she was conscious that she had yet causes of thankfulness in the two friends who had been so kind, and in the one brother still left to her—for an inward presentiment had taken such hold on her, that she doubted not what intelli gence the next mail would bring her from India, and thought of that distant loved one as in the family group, already gone to the better land

VOL. I.

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