but dared not; and, after standing for a few moments in silence, she moved to go.

"It was very kind of you to think of him," he then said. "Perhaps, when you come back to England, you will come again. God bless you, Miss Villars!" Kindly and gently he shook her hand, as he helped her into the carriage—and she drove away.

"How very sad Redlynch is, Miss Drake!" she said, with tearful eyes, as she turned from watching the languid step with which Colonel Maxwell walked into the house; "it makes me miserable to look at it now. very glad that I came."

"Yes, my dear, it is very sad sad to see Colonel Maxwell, too;

Still, I am

and very

but I hope

he will be better when we come back. I dare say he will, as that little child grows more interesting. What a fine little boy it is!"

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Very," said Evelyn, and still she sighed.

The circumstance that most tended to raise her spirits before she left England was an event announced in a letter from Henry Egerton the day preceding the one fixed for their departure from Wilmington. It was a

long letter, and written in his usual style ;full of strong expressions of his regret for her going, and remarks on the dullness of Wilmington during her absence. At the end of the letter were a few words about himself. "Perhaps she would be surprised," he began, "but he hoped she would be glad to hear that he was going to be married. He was not," he said, "in love; he was not sure that he did not like Evelyn much better than his chosen bride; but she was a good girl, and he thought that they should be very happy together; and, as he was tired of living single, he should be married immediately. And I hope, my dear Evelyn," he concluded, "that you will soon marry too; only, of all horrible things, don't go and marry a foreigner;-it turns me quite sick to think of it. My wife's name is Mary."

CHAPTER XXVI.

And still could be in dying feebleness

As she in life had been, his child to love and bless.

The travellers were stopped at Venice by one of Juliet's attacks—the worst she had ever had; and, though she rallied again after a few days, her weakness was so great that Mr. Harcourt determined to remain where he was for some weeks. In addition to other reasons, an inducement to delay his further journey was the attendance of an English physician then staying at Venice, and who, during the little girl's illness, had watched her with the utmost solicitude.

On the first day of Juliet's apparent improvement, Evelyn was seated by her bedside, and watching her as she slept.

Suddenly she opened her eyes, and fixed them, for some moments, on Evelyn's face.

"Is any one in the room, Evelyn?" she

asked.

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"I thought I heard somebody."

No, Juliet; we are quite alone. I wonder what it was that woke you. I did not hear any noise. I hope you will go to sleep again."

"I was not asleep, Evelyn-I was thinking." With the same earnest gaze, and a strange expression in her face, she went on. "Should you like to live quite alone and desolate, do you think?"

"Why, Juliet, why do you ask? I some-times think it will be so myself-sometimes dread it; but why should you think of it for me? Do you think it must be so?" and she bent over her.

"Oh! no, Evelyn; I was not thinking of you-it would be strange if you were desolate; I was thinking of papa," she continued, rather sadly.

"But Mr. Harcourt is not alone-he has you, Juliet; he cannot be desolate or unhappy while he has you to think of. What do you mean?" she said, inquiringly.

"Papa will not have me to think of for much longer. You must not look grave at me, Evelyn; I promised I would not say so

again; but that was when it was only fancy; -now I feel it; and I am not sorry, Evelyn, except for papa, when I think of him, and that he will be left quite alone ;-then I am sorry to think that a very few weeks will....

She paused, and Evelyn was silent. As her eyes fell on Juliet's face, when she saw the wan, transparent skin, and met the almost unearthly look of her dark eyes, for the first time it struck her that death might be there. Evelyn," continued the little girl, after a long silence, "I have got something to say to you, but you must not be angry with me; and, if you don't like what I say, I will promise never to speak of it again."

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"My dear Juliet, I could not be angry at any thing that you said—especially now, when you are so ill," she said, sadly. "What

can I do for you?"

Juliet was silent a moment; then, fixing her eyes seriously on Evelyn's face, she said, "Did you ever think, Evelyn, that papa loved you?"

"Loved me!" said Evelyn, with a deep blush; "how do you mean, Juliet ?"

"I think he does," said the little girl; "I