angry. I will not give it up, however; that hope and object seems to me to be D'Arcy's greatest in life. He is constantly reading and speaking to all the poor people about, and the shadow upon his face is every day decreasing.

"March 15th.-Our plans are settled for the spring, and so delightfully settled, that I can scarcely believe that it is all true. Poor D'Arcy still suffers so much acute nervous pain in his arm, heightened by any excitement, that Dr. Brown decided some time ago that he was unable to go up to take his seat in Parliament, and yet that he required change of air. His own mind was set upon going to Langcroft. Dr. Brown and Sir George Anderson, who came down to see him, advised a change farther south; however, he disliked the idea of going abroad again, so much, that they agreed that any plan which would afford him interest and occupation might do him more good than the best climate. Besides, Langcroft is in a sheltered part of the west of Scotland, and fully warmer than this. Aunt

Clement and I are to go with him. Oh, the delight of going to Scotland, the land of my childish dreams! and of living in an informal, unfettered way, roughing it in the wild country, and deeper and better than all, of helping D'Arcy in his work, if only I can do so. He and I have made a compact,—we shall never marry, either of us,—but are always to be together trying to do all that is right, and to be a model brother and sister. Dearest D'Arcy!"

"Good-morning, Miss Morris," said Lord Mordaunt, as he entered her little drawingroom. "I have come to say that black little word, 'good-bye.' Elinor has gone to the postoffice, but will be here in a few minutes."

"I don't like good-byes at all," said Hester, and the tears stood in her eyes, though her voice was cheerful; "but yet I am glad you are going to your work."

Yes; it is a blessing that even a life-long sorrow can be cheered by that right good cordial-work."

Now, D'Arcy had, in those hours of converse referred to in his sister's journal, told Miss Morris all that Leslie had not told her, so she knew quite well what he meant.

"You have no more right to determine a life-long sorrow for yourself, my dear Lord Mordaunt, than to determine death," said Hester. "God has placed within us a buoyant, lifesome, sorrow-resisting principle, which we must not at our own hands pluck out or destroy."

Hester could not help thinking that there was no fear of him; her Leslie, though she said so little about it, was far more likely to suffer long, with her stronger texture of mind; she did not say so, however, she only added aloud, "I shall hear of your happy marriage some day not very får hence, I hope and believe."

"Never!" said her visitor in a slightly injured tone.

"There is a good old truism which I wish people would only believe to be true, very specially in heart disappointments: 'What

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ever is is right.' If Leslie had been the right wife for you, she would have been your wife, but she was not suited to you. No-believe an old woman-she was not! You would need a statelier mate, fitted to your Countess. Leslie would have tired. to death of the state and conventionalities of your position."

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But I hate it all, too," answered D'Arcy impetuously. "I would have had none of it!" "Then you would have been very wrong, and not living as God meant you to live. Besides, I think you don't know how deeply rooted the aristocratic element is in your own mind-more so than in your sister's."

"Miss Morris! why, I am called a Radical!” "Yes, it is very easy for a man to make a few liberal, democratic speeches, when he is in love with one who glories in having sprung from the glorious people,' as she would herself say; but deep down you will find what I say."

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"You must be a witch, then, Miss Morris, and know more about me than I know about

myself;" but Miss Morris's words were thus answered with a vague consciousness of their perfect truth.

"Rather than confess that I am wrong, I accept the imputation," said Hester, smiling.

The door opened gently, and Lady Elinor stole in; the front-door had stood invitingly open, and hearing the sound of voices she had defrauded Susan of her privilege of opening the door to "the quality," greatly to that thin maiden's discomfiture.

"Elinor!" exclaimed her brother, half laughing, half vexed, " in spite of all my hints of superiority, Miss Morris persists in saying that I am no better than you; she thinks me an old-fashioned, aristocratic, red-hot Tory!"

"Dear Miss Morris," said Lady Elinor, "I feel so changed about all that. I was proud of my rank and station once, but now I feel that it is only an obstacle; I can do no good with it, and I would willingly give it up to-morrow."

"I remember an ancient story," answered