of others-she saw that her question had been a painful one, and hastened to speak again; but their conversation was now interrupted, for they were approaching the house at Oakley, and the rest of the party were waiting for them. Mr. Wilmott began his characteristic adieus. "Farewell, Mr. Brandon; I wish you, sir, a happy summer; I hope soon to be down among you again, and I know I may depend upon finding you at your post, and as friendly to me as ever." "Good bye, Mr. Bruce; I may say to you, in the words of Brutus, 'If we do not meet again, why, we shall smile,' for you have made us smile more than we have done for many a long day; is it not so, my dear Miss Margaret? and I hope you may continue to do so. I wish you all happiness, sir." "A thousand thanks!" said Henry, shaking his hand very cordially, and his eye glanced on Margaret, as if to ask whether his wish would be fulfilled; but he was unobserved, for she was smilingly watching Mr. Wilmott. 66 "Farewell, Mr. Hastings," he said, with even more warmth in his ever-affectionate manner; one of the best and brightest hopes of my life is to meet you again. I wish you all, sir, that earth can give." "You came off the best, Claude," said Henry, laughing, as they walked away; "Did he not, Mr. Brandon? I was quite satisfied with my fate, till I heard Claude's good wishes, but now he has got everything." From that day, a change came over the mind of Sara Woodvile; the evil spirit within her was not conquered-was not expelled: many a glance, many a word, showed that it still was there; but it was displaced, it was dethroned from its supreme dominion. Another, an engrossing passion, had taken possession of her mind, and, as she had yielded herself to the spirit of jealousy, so now she yielded to the spirit of love. But a new feature of her character appeared in this passion, in this love for Claude Hastings. Till now, her life had been absorbed in selfishness-not in acts of selfishness, but in thoughts, a continual brooding upon herself, but in her love there was not one taint of self. She had not hope she did not think of hope; she did not ask, she did not feel to need a return; the new feeling of reverence in her mind was enough; it was enough, with worship, with devotion, with idolatry, to look up to Claude Hastings; she needed nothing more. She loved him, and was at peace. CHAPTER XIV. Yes, let them pass without a sigh, And, if the world seem dull and dry If long and sad thy lonely hours, And winds have rent thy sheltering bowers, The Christian Year. Notwithstanding the influence which Claude Hastings had obtained over his aunt, she had in no degree diminished her expressions of regard for Henry Bruce. If there was more of respect, and considerate affection in her manner to Claude, there was a greater show of tyrannical fondness towards Henry; and the interest of the neighbourhood as to which was the favourite nephew had increased, as Mrs. James declared, to an "awful pitch." "For her part, she should not be surprised if it made her ill- she could do nothing but wonder and wonder. Many a night when she was restless it kept her from sleeping, though for herself, she must say, she had not a doubt how it would be; she was ready to lay a wager of any money on the Captain." But the day of decision appeared to be drawing near. Miss Grant had another attack of the same nature as the one which had alarmed Mr. James a month or five weeks before. It was slighter in its character at the moment of the seizure, but she did not rally from it as easily as she had done from the first. For one day she remained in her room, and passed many hours in complete solitude; and, although she appeared again as usual the next day, there was a very evident change both in her looks and in her manner. "Shall I read to you, to-day ?" asked Claude, as he sate down by her side, at the hour which of late she had allowed him to devote to her; " or will it tire you?" "You shall read to me, Claude Hastings, I wish it; you may go out, Letitia, but do |