Beverley, whilst Gertrude sipped her lukewarm tea, proceeded to narrate that Lady Maud came into the schoolroom that morning, and, after finding fault with the French themes and everything on the table, went to the window and stood looking out at the distant hills. Whereupon Miss Beverley, who thought the silence awkward, merely observed that Mr. Nugent was very remiss not to have ridden with Gertrude lately.

"On this Lady Maud looked round at me," said Miss Beverley-growing rather warm at the recollection-" looked round at me, as if I had been a mere worm, or earwig, or something equally unpleasant and contemptible, and making a very long neck, said, 'I do not wish you, Miss Beverley, to couple Miss Usherwood's name with that of any gentleman who may chance to obtain the honour of her acquaintance. I don't blame you. You mean it kindly. But let me beg you will be more circumspect.' And so saying, your mamma bowed to me, and sailed out of the room as if I was a streetsweeper to whom she had refused an alms!"

They were interrupted by a solemn tap at the door, and Paine proclaimed, in an impressive whisper through the keyhole, that her ladyship desired to speak with Miss Usherwood "directly."

Lady Maud, when Gertrude entered her boudoir, was seated near the window, with some open letters, an account-book, and a file or two of bills on a table near her. She looked more serious than usual, and there was a restlessness about eye which denoted she was not at case.

her

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Gertrude, my sweet child," she began, "I have a few words to say to you, if you are disengaged.'

Gertrude sat down on a low stool by her mother's side, without any reply, but with a beating heart.

"Time flies fast, dearest," proceeded her mother.

me see, you were eighteen last spring?"

"Yes, mamma, in May."

"Let

"I was seventeen when I married your father," continued Lady Maud in a meditative mood. "Our family were famous for early marriages. The Countess of Delafield (my lamented grandmother) was still at school when the Earl proposed; and as for my dear mother, it was generally believed she concealed a doll in her trunk when she started for her wedding tour on the continent!"

Lady Maud paused, and Gertrude wondered whither these remarks were tending. Lady Maud resumed rather abruptly,

H

"Have you ridden lately with Sir Eliot, my dear?

It

"Not very lately: I am not so fond of riding as I was." "It is dull riding without a companion," rejoined her mother. "I am vexed there is so little society in this neighbourhood. We must make the most of what we have, however; for in the reduced state of your father's finances a season in town is this year out of the question. Economy has become a duty, and yet how dangerous a one! excites disagreeable suspicions, and often precipitates a crisis that might have been averted, or at least postponed. I should be happy, come what may," proceeded Lady Maud, her eyes becoming tearful, "if I could see my daughters advantageously and suitably settled before undeserved distress embittered their young hearts!"

Gertrude knelt by her mother's side, and, fondly caressing her, declared that she ought not to think about them; that if they were all of them together in however humble a home, they would be happy.

"And you especially, my dearest," continued her mother, gently settling her bracelet and rings, which had been disarranged by her daughter's caresses, and putting Gertrude's collar straight, but all the while in tears. "You, my dearest, I do wish to see united to a man I can trust and esteem; to one possessed of competent fortune and of unblemished name!"

Gertrude tried to laugh it off as a joke, but succeeded very badly.

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My sweet, how you tremble! Kiss me, child, and do not agitate yourself needlessly. One would suppose you expected to be married to-morrow!"

"Dearest mother, I am in no impatience for such an event, believe me. I am very happy as I am.'

Lady Maud sighed, and taking up a letter appeared to cast her eye over the contents, then, bending down over her daughter, said, "Don't flurry yourself, my child. Let us turn to another subject. Will you drive with us to-day to call on

the Clairs?"

"Mamma," said Gertrude, rather agitated, "I know you have something more to say to me. I had rather hear it all,

and have it over."

No, darling, no! There is no need to say more at present. If I had thought you would have been so excited, I should not have broached the subject."

"Pray, tell me all, mamma. Do not leave me in suspense." "Poor child," replied the mother, stroking Gertrude's flushed cheek, "you are quite in a fever! You must learn to take these things quietly. I had had three proposals at your age, and you have had none yet. At least," she added, glancing at her daughter with a look of gradually dawning suspicion," at least as far as I am aware; as far as the amount of confidence you have placed in me enables me to judge."

"Dearest mother!" interrupted Gertrude, in a deprecating tone of voice.

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My love, it may be best to let you know at once that there is one not far from this neighbourhood to whom you are not indifferent."

Gertrude hid her face in her mother's lap, not knowing what was coming next, but hoping for the best.

Lady Maud, with a slight degree of anxiety in her voice and looks, proceeded,—

"In fact, your father and I have this very day received a letter from the person I allude to, begging our sanction for making a formal offer."

Gertrude did not move her head, but her heart beat more rapidly.

There was a pause, but presently Lady Maud began again,— "Of course, darling, if you should contract a union which, I may as well admit, both your father and myself sincerely desire-if ever this should take place, your lot will be cast in quite a different sphere. A brilliant position in the first circles of London society, diversified by visits to the most interesting countries on the Continent, and an occasional sojourn at a luxurious country seat. Such a routine of existence would undoubtedly present an agreeable contrast to your way of life at Beaumont House-which, I am free to confess, is not far removed from that of a vegetable. Associated with a husband possessed of mind as well as heart-and let me incidentally observe, my dear Gertrude, that the man of mind commonly improves upon acquaintance, whereas the mere man of feeling sooner or later palls like an insipid sweetmeat -associated, I say, with such a husband as Sir Eliot Prichard- 99

Gertrude had hitherto listened, her head reclining on her mother's lap, with tolerable composure to this long address delivered by Lady Maud rapidly, but with distinct emphasis.

When, however, she heard the name Sir Eliot, she could no longer contain herself, but, springing to her feet, exclaimed"Mother, I cannot bear him! I detest him! I wish he had never been born!"

Lady Maud gazed upon her with unaffected amazement. Accustomed to govern either by the exercise of authority or by judicious management those who were connected with her, she was unprepared for such a display of self-will and impetuosity in any of her own children, who, she had supposed, needed no more stringent influence than that imparted through the medium of Miss Beverley. But the very consciousness of Lady Maud's long-established authority added intensity to Gertrude's dismay and trouble of mind. Knowing well her mother's power, as well as her own weakness, she rose against it with a kind of desperate audacity. The next moment she sank into a chair, half alarmed at her vehemence; and, yielding to a rush of bitter despondency, could with difficulty restrain her tears. For one little moment Lady Maud's blue eyes quivered with displeasure, but it passed like a flash of summer lightning. She rose, stopped for one moment to gaze upon her child's face, which trembled with conflicting emotions, and then leaning over her, kissed her forehead, pressed her to her bosom, and soothingly said, "There, there, darling, I have been over-hasty. Be sure that you shall not be forced to take a step you secretly abhor."

Gertrude's tears now found free egress.

"My child," added Lady Maud, regarding her closely for a moment, "your affections are elsewhere fixed. You have given away your heart, or at least you believe so!"

Gertrude's lips murmured some inarticulate words.

"But, consider," proceeded her mother: "does not your pride revolt against succumbing to a passion for one far inferior to yourself in rank, in station, in refinement of mind? You shake your head! But forgive me, dearest, if I press you further. Does not your maidenly delicacy shrink with horror from nourishing a sentiment that is wholly unrequited?"

"Mamma," exclaimed Gertrude, whose feelings were without difficulty probed and laid bare by one so experienced in such investigations as her mother," mamma, it is not true !" "Not true!" replied her mother. "What do you mean? What do you know of Mr. Nugent's feelings?"

"Mamma! replied Gertrude, with sudden energy, "he

loves me! Indeed he does! He told me so himself. He was to come here this morning to talk it all over with you. No doubt he will soon be here. I wished him to tell you. No concealment was intended. He-is-very-much-at

tached-to-me !"

And poor Gertrude, to speak plain language, began to cry. The summer lightning again played fitfully in Lady Maud's blue eyes. She took a turn up and down the room, as if to command her feelings, then stopped suddenly, and said, in a low, almost quiet voice, "Poor child! And when, may I venture to ask, did you come to this satisfactory understanding?"

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"Yesterday," sobbed Gertrude.

"Yesterday! Only yesterday! And that accounted for your being so late. You met him, I suppose? Yes, yes, of

course."

A few minutes of silence passed, and then Lady Maud embraced her daughter affectionately, but gravely.

"Do not leave the house, dearest," she said; "I may want you again. You will be glad to be alone. Go and bathe those poor swollen eyes; and remember, we must be patient-all of us." !

And embracing her daughter once more, she dismissed her, and seating herself by the window, leant her head upon her hand in deep thought. Then rising and murmuring to herself, "I can scarcely blame her, but it is much to be regretted," she hastily quitted the apartment, and made the best of her way to the library. She paused with her hand on the door to recover breath, having run downstairs more rapidly than usual, and heard the sound of some one breathing heavily, as if in a deep but oppressive slumber. "Poor fellow!" said Lady Maud; "he is asleep, I must not wake him." And she opened the door very gently, in order not to rouse her husband.

The library was a well-lighted, sunny room, having a large bow-window at one end. When Lady Maud entered it was however partially darkened, the large window curtain of red damask having been let down. Mr. Usherwood had lately found the light too much for his eyes. Before, however, Lady Maud could distinctly take in all the objects in the room, she felt a cold chill strike her, as if there was something, she knew not what, amiss. The next moment a sudden scream burst from her lips. Upon the rug, in front