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for I enjoy everything, and much as I like the idea of staying at St. Wolfgang I do not like being away from our own party. Ischl itself is very beautifully situated, with mountains all round it, but it is too fashionable to please me. There is an English service on Sundays, held in some room hired by the landlord of the chief hotel, and fitted up expressly for the purpose. This of course is very satisfactory, though papa says it is only a speculation of the landlord's to attract the English guests. The English clergyman sat near us at the table-d'hôte the first day we dined there, and told us that the landlord gave him his rooms free of cost, and that he considered it his business to entertain the English guests; and then he began telling us who all the people were who were present.. We went to the service on Sunday. There was Holy Communion, and before the offertory, notice was given that the collection would be made to defray the expenses the landlord had incurred in fitting up the room, and we were told besides that the hour for the afternoon service would be altered to suit the landlord's two tables-d'hôte. I really felt quite glad that Mr. Verney was not there to hear it, for he cannot help turning such things into ridicule. I can't laugh at them myself, they only give me pain, for they seem so irreverent. That is the one point upon which Mr. Verney and I cannot agree. He never cares about going to these English chapels and services; he says he can be much more devout when he is wandering about amidst beautiful scenery, and I dare say he may be right, only it seems strange. He likes Roman Catholic services, though; at least, he

likes to look on and to hear the music; but then he says plainly that he only goes to them as he does to the opera. Dear Mrs. Patty, these things puzzle me very much, for Mr. Verney must be a good man, he so entirely appreciates everything which is great and noble, and he talks to papa by the hour about plans for doing good in India.

'Tuesday afternoon. -I must finish this, and take it with me to Ischl this evening. I am to go back after an early dinner, which is not quite what mamma wishes; for Rosamond wrote me word I was to return directly in the carriage that was sent for me, and Mr. Verney added a little line in her note, begging me not to delay; but I really could not help it: Mrs. Hensman entreated me so much to stay, and help her to take care of some poor English ladies, who are at a very indifferent hotel in the village, and whom she thinks it right to be kind to. They are an aunt and niece, and they are travelling for amusement, and have come here by a kind of accident, hoping to find some friends. Mrs. Tracy is the aunt, Miss Stuart the niece. The latter is very much out of health, but she is quite fascinating in look and manner. I have been sitting with her this morning in a lovely little pavilion in the grounds. It is fitted up most luxuriously, and has windows all round, which command enchanting views of the lake. Mrs. Hensman had Miss Stuart taken there this morning, carried in a chair, for she is too ill to walk, and then she asked me to go to her. You know how shy and awkward I am generally; but that is when there is no exact reason for doing or saying things; when I am obliged to put myself forward I can get on pretty well. Miss Stuart was very reserved in manner at first, and rather cold, till something was said about Mrs. Hensman's kindness, and then she was so grateful, her eyes quite sparkled as she spoke of it. They are such lovely eyes, very deep blue, with long eyelashes; and the eyelids droop over them, and make them still deeper and darker. Their expression is very sad; they seem to look out into the far distance as if expecting something which never comes. I could not help thinking, as I sat by her this morning, that if I were a painter, I should like to take her as a model for a picture of "Hope deferred, which maketh the heart sick." I really longed to kiss her and comfort her, but I did not dare to talk about anything but common-place subjects, and these seemed an effort to her. She must have a history attached to her, I am sure; but I am not likely to know it, for I shall scarcely see her again. They were going away from St. Wolfgang directly; but I think now they know Mrs. Hensman, they may stay longer. It is such a comfort to them to be near kind people, and to have the use of the grounds. Mrs. Tracy looks rather bewildered, as if she had no plans and did not know what to do or where to go, and this makes it all the more sad and strange. They seem so very lonely and helpless. I have had an idea in my mind since I saw them, which seems unnatural, and almost impossible, but which I should like to be quite sure about. You know Miss Greaves had a dear friend whose name was Stuart, and who went to India; and I have fancied whether this young lady could be the same. People turn up so very curiously in strange places. I would have asked Miss Stuart herself, only it might have seemed inquisitive. Please let Juliet and Annette see this letter. I will write to them next time. I send you a very great deal of love, dearest Mrs. Patty, and please give all kinds of respectful and most affectionate remembrances to dear Dr. Kingsbury. How I should like to see him, and talk to him! When you write, pray let me hear all the Yare news. seems an age since we went away.

'Ever your very affectionate young friend,

'MYRA CAMERON."

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Mrs. Patty laid down the letter, took off her spectacles, sat for a few moments in thought, then put on her spectacles again, and re-read the portion of Myra's communication which referred to Mr. Verney, after which she walked very deliberately up stairs to the Doctor's room.

The old man was sitting in an arm-chair, propped up by cushions. There had been a gradual failing of strength lately, which no one could exactly account for. He felt but little pain, but he had lost his appetite and energy. The symptoms of a general break up of the constitution were too obvious to be hidden from any eyes but those blinded by affection. Until this day Mrs. Patty had never realised to herself what a change might be at hand. Now, as she entered the room, it struck her how very worn he looked, how his cheeks had fallen in, and how dim his eyes were, and especially how thin and almost white his bony hands had become; and for an instant forgetting the irritable feeling which had made her hasten to him with Myra's letter, she went up to him, and propped up his pillows, and drew his little table nearer to him, and cleared away some papers which were lying upon it, but she could not trust herself to speak to him, till he said

'Thank you, Patty ; I do very well. Have I had all the letters ?'

'All which were of any consequence, Doctor, dear, There was one I saw from poor Miss Medley's nurse. What does she say of her?'

'That she is afraid the poor lady grows worse. The change has not been of any use. We must pray, Patty, that God would please to take her home before long.'

'Aye! indeed we well may. It is a sore trial for herself and her friends. And what has been settled about the money matters?'

'Mr. Cameron has not written to say if he will subscribe, so I must continue to advance what is necessary.'

'It is only doing what you have done all your life,' observed Mrs. Patty, 'advancing for others, and waiting till they think it proper to repay, but there will be the five pounds which Myra told us Mr. Verney would give. I wonder why he wished his name to be kept so secret.'

'There may be many good reasons for a man's not wishing his charities to be known,' replied the Doctor. And as to myself, Patty, I shall soon be where it will be no grief to me to remember that I

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