selfishness, destined, it would seem, to be her own torment, and the torment of her friends. And Mrs. Patty laid down her knitting, and standing up, folded her hands, and said a prayer for Myra Cameron-a prayer like that of a child in its simplicity, but like that of a saint in its earnestness.

The wheels of a carriage were heard; it drove up to the door. Then followed a determined ring, and a rush amongst the servants. Mr. Cameron was come. It was just the hour at which he might be expected from London by the last train, but Mrs. Patty was taken by surprise. She had meant to have left the library before he arrived, lest she might be in the way; but there was no mode of escape now without meeting him. She caught a few words which passed between him and the butler, and hoped he would go upstairs at once, for Mrs. Cameron was in Myra's room. But no; he came into the library first. Mrs. Patty's candle had burnt low, and the wick was long. Mr. Cameron failed to recognise her till she went forward to greet him.

'I am afraid I am in the way, Mr. Cameron; I know I ought to have gone, but I was a little anxious, so I stayed to hear Mr. Harrison's report. I will go directly now.'

'On no account; pray seat yourself. Mrs. Patty Kingsbury can never be in the way.' Mr. Cameron placed a chair on one side of the table for Mrs. Patty, and another opposite for himself, carefully snuffed the candle, rang the bell, and sat down, his head bent forward a little, in the attitude of listening.

He was a very handsome man; dignified in person, and courteous though stiff in manner. And he was very young. looking; no one would have imagined him to be fifty, or have supposed that so many years had been spent in the exhausting mental work and excitement of a barrister's profession. He might have been a bachelor of forty, without a care beyond himself, instead of a man who had been twice married, and was called upon to take thought for six children. His stillness, and slowness of utterance, no doubt contributed somewhat to this impression. He always seemed to be at leisure, and now he looked at Mrs. Patty with an inquiring gaze, which implied

that no doubt she had something to say, and he was prepared to give it his full attention; not allowing himself to be at all disturbed by the fact that he had been engrossed with business since ten in the morning, and had returned home weary and hungry, with his head full of the news of the day, to find his whole household in disorder, and one of his children seriously ill.

Mrs. Patty, however, could think of nothing to say. She nervously gathered up her knitting, and felt greatly relieved when one of the needles fell on the floor, and she could stoop to look for it.

'Allow me;' Mr. Cameron bent down after her, 'This candle is not enough; I have rung for a lamp.'

'Oh! not for me: indeed, Mr. Cameron, it can't signify; I am only staying just till Mr. Harrison comes; if you would only kindly leave me; our gardener is here, and is to walk back with me. I really don't want anything, and you will be longing to go upstairs and see Myra.'

'Poor little Myra! she unwisely fell into the water, I hear. Was Miss Greaves with her, can you tell me?'

'No, not that I know of; I am sure not, indeed, The three girls were down at the Rectory pond.'

'Oh! The accident was untoward. I am afraid it has occasioned you trouble.'

'Not me, Mr. Cameron; if you just won't think of me, but of Mrs. Cameron and the poor child. Myra is very ill, and fevers are going about; and no one knows what this may turn to.'

The servant entered to answer the bell. Mr. Cameron took no notice, but continued: "The accident happened at the Rectory pond, you said; and I suppose Myra was brought home directly.'

'Not brought, but walked,' replied Mrs. Patty. 'The accident would have been a trifle, only but it does not signify now; I would not on any account keep you from going upstairs. Mrs. Cameron will tell you all about it much better

than I can.'

'A lamp, John and the round table cleared for supper,

Mrs. Patty, you will excuse me, but a man who has been fasting for ten hours feels somewhat hungry.'

'No doubt, and you will wish me gone; and as Mr. Harrison is late, I suppose I ought to go. Myra !'

But poor little

'We must hope that she will be better to-morrow. Have you any commands for Mrs. Cameron before you return home?'

Mr. Cameron rose, and as the servant came back with the lamp, took up the solitary candle preparatory to going upstairs.

Mrs. Patty had many commands, at least in the way of imaginations and wishes, but they had fled, and left her brain a blank.

'Good-night, Mr. Cameron; good-night!' She held out her hand to him. 'I know I ought to go, and the Doctor will wonder what has become of me.'

'My compliments to the good Doctor,' said Mr. Cameron, his mouth betokening a first effort at a smile. 'Permit me to inquire if your servant is ready?'

Mrs. Patty's longings to run upstairs and see Mrs. Cameron, or at least the lady's maid, and just to look at Myra, and perhaps if she could but hide herself in some corner-to wait a little longer, in the hope of having Mr. Harrison's opinion, were completely quenched. To get out of Mr. Cameron's way that was all she desired; and that was all he desired likewise.

CHAPTER V.

'ROSAMOND, mamma says that if Myra is not better, you can't dine with the Verneys on Tuesday.'

Rosamond only smiled.

'She does say so,' continued Juliet, so I don't see why you should trouble yourself to practise so much; it must be disturbing to every one.'

'It does not disturb me,' said Annette, ‘I like it. Rosamond, do you think this shade is too heavy?'

Rosamond left the piano directly, and looking over her sister's shoulder, gave her opinion with an air of interest.

'A little, dear! at least at the edge; it should melt off, you see. Can I touch it for you?'

'Mr. Brownlow dislikes any touching,' said Juliet.

Rosamond made no reply, but took the brush from Annette's hand.

'Myra is worse this morning, Mr. Harrison says,' continued Juliet, as she walked to the window. Leaning forward, she looked out into the sunshine. I wish she had not been so silly. I wish we had never gone to the pond.'

'I wish Miss Greaves would come downstairs, and give you something to do,' said Rosamond playfully. 'You are like a disturbed buzzing bee, Juliet.'

'Very likely,' replied Juliet; 'but Mrs. Patty looks so grave.'

'I am glad I never put myself into such a passion as Myra,' said Annette; I heard Mr. Harrison telling Mrs. Patty, as they were talking outside my door this morning, that half the mischief came from her being so excitable.'

'People always now call being in a passion being excitable; don't they, Rosamond?' asked Juliet.

Generally, in polite society,' observed Rosamond. 'At Colonel Verney's, for instance,' continued Juliet.

Myra

and I were talking the other day about the new words Mrs.

Verney uses. Self-appreciation, she said, was Catharine Verney's characteristic,'

'I suppose

Annette.

a characteristic is not a fault,' remarked

'If it is not, it is so like one that I should never know the difference,' observed Juliet. 'Catharine Verney is as conccited a girl as I ever met.'

'She has a fair share of self-esteem,' replied Rosamond; 'but she will do very well by and by.'

'You like all the Verneys,' said Juliet.

'So would you, my dear, if you knew them.' And the 'my dear' silenced Juliet-for the moment; it showed such immeasurable superiority.

'It

'Henrietta and Elise dress beautifully,' said Annette. nearly made Myra cry the other day when they came to call. She said that if she were to live a thousand years she could never look like them.'

'No, never,' said Rosamond, with a quiet smile. 'See, Annette, won't that do better?'

'Oh! thank you, yes. That is quite different. But Annette eyed her palette with a look of dismay.

'It is not quite as clean as when I took it from you,' said Rosamond; but it is not the business of a palette to be very clean.'

'Or for an artist to have a very tidy table,' said Juliet. 'Poor Annette! how I pity you.'

Annette collected her colours and brushes, and wiped the table with a piece of rag; but when the operation was ended she looked at her fingers with great disgust.

'You must go and wash them, dear,' said Rosamond; 'there is no help for it. And I know you won't be happy till they are washed.'

'And you won't make the table untidy again while I am gone, will you?' said Annette caressingly. 'You know, Rosamond, if you do I shall have forteits.'

'Don't be afraid, dear child. I will take my sin upon my own shoulders. Just run away, and make yourself happy.' Rosamond still kept her place, and went on drawing.