tightly round her, but she was a creature of impulse, and after one instant's thought she flew after him.

"You would hardly let me speak, papa ; I don't like Mr. Bruce now-I don't feel that, even to please you, though I would do almost any thing for that, that I could marry him now; but I told him I would try to love him, and I will try and try more since you wish it, papa. Are you better pleased with me now?" And she looked up with a smile in his face.

Sir Richard indulged in another whistle, and the cloud cleared from his face. "All alike, all alike! what a thing it is to be a woman! Oh! yes, my little girl, I understand; I know the business very well. Oh! yes, we don't love him now, but we'll try what we can do-all alike! Pleased, Margaret! why, yes, I'm as pleased with you as... as....as....no matter what; but you're a good girl, after all, and I am not a bit disappointed in you." And he kissed her with great affection.

Margaret's confession to her father had an

effect greater even than she had anticipated; in a few days, she found herself, without her will, against her will, she scarcely knew how it had come about, but in some sort bound to Henry. She had not given way; he had spoken no more; but she saw in the eyes of all around that she was looked upon in the light of a betrothed bride, and she felt as if she had no power of resistance: she was looked upon as bound by others, till she began to look upon her situation in the same light herself. And hope renewed sparkled in Henry's eyes; and, though he dared not to speak, love was in his smile, in his tones, in his looks-the chain was winding about her—she felt it, yet had no power to resist or to break it.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Who never eat the bread of sorrow,
Who never passed the darksome hours,
Weeping, and watching for to-morrow,
He knows ye not, ye tempting powers!

GOETHE.

In many ways doth the full heart reveal
The presence of the love it would conceal;
But in far more the estranged heart lets know
The absence of the love which yet it fain would show.

COLERIDGE.

When Sir Richard announced to Sara the possibility of Margaret's marriage, a wild thrill of pleasure shot through her heart.

Till now she had lived happy in her love for Claude Hastings: happy in bowing to the influence which he possessed over her -happy in the calm and peace which, owing to that influence, had stolen over the troubled waters of her heart-happy, above all, in the new and sweet sensations of de

votion to another, of casting off herself, of living "another life and happier one within another's eyes," which were springing up within her. Till now she had been satisfied with this; for Hope, with flattering fancies, did not beckon her on to look for any further good. But in Margaret's marriage with Henry Bruce, a gleam of hope-though faint, though far, yet still a gleam-arose in the future for herself; she and Claude Hastings must necessarily be often together; there would be a bond of union between them; there would arise....but who cannot fancy the thousand hopes which must have flattered now, the thousand bright visions which must have danced before her imagination?

It was true that at present she had not one thought that Claude loved her but she loved him; and, as Henry felt with Margaret, so Sara felt, and felt with the deeper intensity of her passionate character, that such a love as hers could not be for ever powerless. "Si tu savois comme je t'aime bien sur toi-même tu m'aimerais;" this was

the constant feeling of her soul. Once admitted, the spark of hope was quickly fanned into a flame; every faculty was engaged; the passive character of her love vanished; she was no longer satisfied with the good which it had brought to herself; it had become an active principle: she must win him, she must teach him to love her, to love even as she loved him; she must be all in all to him, and then would she repay him with her worship, with her idolatry — for it was nothing less than this, with the devotion of her whole existence, for the bright new life which he had given to her.

Full of these thoughts, these hopes, her character changed; every cloud dispersed; gloom, moroseness, jealousy, and bitterness were no more; the light shining in her heart shed light on every object around; the fount of love was opened, and was waiting to water all who approached her, — and her dark eye shone with a new and strange lustre, and a smile, brighter and sweeter than her sister's, for it came from a deeper source of joy, played upon her lips. These