your perception if you have not noticed | Smith whenever she feels inclined to this before his marked attentions, I should honour us with a visit." have thought, would have struck you." Ah, Mr. Vernon! it has not struck you that Kenneth might be entertaining similar feeling, and so have overlooked Norman's! "But now to the point; of course all this is in confidence. Edith, by her manner, plainly shows that she sees his attentions; for after being with him sometimes I have had to speak to her two or three times before she even heard me, but I soon penetrated her secret, and though I have no "Is not Alice Vernon a strange child to doubt she likes him, and indeed I have a refuse this pleasure? I tell her she does high opinion of him myself, there is only it for the sake of being conspicuous, for I one objection to his becoming my son-in-will never believe that she prefers staying law-I shall never allow my children to at home gossiping with the villagers. What marry unless their husbands can maintain do you you really think of it, Mr. Kenthem comfortably. You have the care of neth?" Norman Anteegar, so you are the only person to whom I could mention this affair, and I shall trust to your good sense and persuasion to get him away before their parting will have too great an effect on each other."

"This is a delightful ride, is it not? although, Mr. Kenneth, you do not seem to be enjoying it as much as it deserves. Has anything happened to distress you?"

"I beg your pardon, Miss Smith, for appearing so absurd; I have been very forgetful. Yes, indeed, it is a beautiful day, and our party seem to be in high spirits, which generally shows satisfaction.'

"Mr. Vernon, I hope I may act for the best; I have been to blame in neglecting his interests. I will endeavour to compensate now for my breach of duty."

"Don't think so seriously of this, Kenneth; there is plenty of time for him. I do not wonder at such things not entering your head; but I must perform my part, and go and interrupt that tête-a-tete, if you will allow me."

Kenneth kept behind, thinking over Mr. Vernon's disclosure; he tried to think of what he had done, or rather of what he had not done, for Norman; his face became grave. "How selfish!" thought he; "here have I been surrounded with pleasures, and wealth, and not to have thought of a poor boy under the same roof! What can I do to make up for it?"

He was so absorbed with these thoughts that he did not observe that Matilda and Eleanor had slackened their pace, and were now almost on a line with him.

"Mr. Kenneth," said the latter young lady, "do join us; you seem to be quite forsaken."

"Indeed, I have not found it so; I have been occupied in reproaching myself, and had quite forgotten that I was alone."

"Oh, I am sure you cannot have much to reproach yourself with; but will you come between us? Mamma has been intending to call on you and Miss Annie for some time; I hope she will not be prevented doing so next week."

"I shall be most happy to see Mrs.

As she said this she gave a slight glance towards Matilda, who partially returned it. The look of gloom instantly vanished, and gave place to an expression of indignation for an instant; that, however, quickly disappeared, and regaining his wonted composure, though it seemed that fire was flashing from his black eye, he answered with visible emotion

"I think you are indebted to Alice for your ride, Miss Smith."

"Which makes it still more astonishing; for she merely knows me by sight, and Miss Vernon here says I am not a favourite at Heathfield. I think she must have some meaning in her little whims, for she evidently endeavours to appear different from other people."

Kenneth again struggled to keep himself calm, and answered

"I think you are mistaken, Miss Smith. Alice is naturally so different from other people that it would be quite unnecessary for her to try to appear so; nor do I think she would have recourse to such a measure."

"Well, Mr. Kenneth, I yield to your superior judgment; for I should suppose," said she, with a satirical manner, "from your knowledge of her eccentricities, you have had more frequent opportunities than myself of observing them.'

He smiled-a forced smile.

"I think it probable that I may see Miss Alice oftener than you, Miss Smith; our bouse is considerably nearer ;" and with a slight bow he passed on.

"Eleanor," said Matilda, "will you believe that I am right now? "Tis plain enough, but you will never make him lose his temper."

"At all events, then, their love shall not

who, she said, was not fit to rule such a house. Eleanor resolved to sift Kenneth as to his feelings, and did so, as my readers know; and finding that Matilda was correct in her observations, she determined, as she said at the time, that their "love should not run smooth." To strengthen their purposes Matilda promised to invite down a cousin of hers-a Lieutenant Cullen, who, having very little to live on, and being an admirer of beauty, would, from a hint or two given, act accordingly; but she urged on Eleanor the necessity of her being constantly at the Hall, or they would not be able to give a colour to their proceedings-proceedings which did not consult the feelings of the parties concerned.

CHAPTER VIII.

ON returning to the Hall, Kenneth was observed by both Norman and Annie to be unusually depressed in spirits. He was not, as was generally the case, the life of the party, but he seemed to have a heavy weight on his mind; and when noticed by his sister or Norman, he assumed an air of cheerfulness, which, however, lasted for the moment, and soon again gave place to pensiveness. The whole of the following fortnight he was employed in writing letters in his study, and it was only at the end of this time that he appeared to be relieved from some anxiety. He was more like himself one morning after the post came in; and as soon as breakfast was over he called Norman to his study. The table was covered with letters and papers, and Kenneth was seated at it.

"Norman," said he, when he had motioned to him to shut the door, "I am going to offer you the only reparation in my power for my neglect of your welfare; it has made me very unhappy for the last fortnight, and

"Neglect of my welfare! Well, you have been dull for the last fortnight; pray don't end it by a fit of madness.'

"But, Norman, I am really serious." "So am I, Kenneth; I may say I was never more serious in my life

"Norman, I must have you listen to me; you know I am your guardian."

"To be sure; and feel it, too!" "I have not performed my duty as ought."

I

Kenneth, my dear fellow, are you really in your senses ?"

Kenneth felt he must make some impression. "Yes, Norman, I am; but I want to

know how you are going to maintain yourself?"

"Well. I have never thought of that, I must say !"

"Nor could I have expected you to do so. You have always been with us since a child; and from the time of my father's death the responsibility has devolved on me. You were never told you had no property, and never advised to enter any profession. You have never even wished to secure your own interests, but left it to your guardian; and see how he has abused your trust!-No, no, hear me out, Norman! You are now in your twentieth year, and nothing has been done for you; but I must say it has only been owing to forgetfulness. You know, my boy, I would do anything for you; but it was always so natural and pleasant to have you with me that it never once entered my head that you ought to be getting your living."

"But let me get it now! I shall not want much; perhaps you have got me a situation in the army?"

Norman, you know not what you are saying. It would be some years before you got anything to speak of; and as to not wanting much-supposing, Norman, supposing you ever wished to marry?" As he said this, he looked earnestly at Norman. He started as if struck. Oh, Norman, you know not how much I have been to blame; but I hope this may in a little way compensate for what you have lost." He presented a paper to Norman. "It is not a situation in the army'

Norman opened the paper, but let it fall out of his hand: it was an agreement to pay Norman Anteegar £500 a year.

"There is no snake in it, is there?" said Kenneth, laughing as he took up the paper.

Oh, Kenneth, Kenneth, did I see rightly? It can't be; no, I cannot take it! £500 a year! Oh, Kenneth, why should you give it me?"

"Norman, you will please me much better if you will take it without thanks, for it is your due! If you do not wish me to continue unhappy about you, let me make the only reparation in my power. And now, Norman, I am going to ask you to accept a remembrance! You will not refuse a wedding-gift? Hush, no denial! Whatever my breach of duty may have done-offended my God, neglected your welfare, and abused my trust-whatever it may have done in other respects, it shall be no barrier between you and Edith Vernon! Her father's consent you have; you know

"Kenneth," said he, "get me in the army. I could see the wounded and dying -aye, and die myself, without a tear; but this I cannot stand. Oh, Kenneth, if you know what a full heart is, you can fancy my gratitude! Words cannot, it is only the heart itself that can thank you for this." "Then you will accept my wedding present; I am not much too early, am I?" Norman smiled.

Kenneth, you must allow me to contradiet you as to the compensation; you have done more for me now than I could have done for myself. If I had ever been able to gain half that you have given me, it would have cost me both trouble and labour; you cannot doubt my preference."

"That may be true, Norman-so much the more pleasing to me; but it cannot make my fault the less. Here is your cheque for this year's £500; I have no doubt may be required. I am going to Heathfield, on matters of business, with Mr. Vernon," said he, archly; "will you accompany

it

me?"

"Not to-day, thank you, Kenneth. I must wait till I get my feelings under control again."

77

"You not only have given me a wedding present, you have given me my bride!"

CHAPTER IX.

IT was on a beautiful morning early in the following spring that there appeared to be something unusual going on both at Allington Hall and Heathfield House. It was Norman Anteegar's and Edith Vernon's wedding-day.

He went out on the lawn and tried to compose himself. It was some time before he could compose himself. His thoughts reverted to the magnificent gift he had just received, and then to Edith Vernon. It was evident that Kenneth knew how matters stood, and also that he had spoken to Mr. Vernon and gained his consent. He knew he could delay the subject no longer (indeed, he did not wish to); for he felt he could not remain at Allington Hall for any length of time after the events of the morning. So, after a week had elapsed, accompanied by Kenneth, he bent his steps to Heathfield. They knew Mr. Vernon was not at home, and Matilda, as was her wont (for she and Eleanor had agreed to let Alice do as she liked until Edith was gone), remaind upstairs.

The hedges were just beginning to look green, and the trees were shooting forth their leafy buds. Everything looked gay; the primroses were out in perfection; every one was hailing the return of spring.

Edith had not slept much that night; and when, about six o'clock, Alice entered her room, she was sitting by the fire partially dressed.

"Good morning, dear Edith; with your wedding-morning may there come many blessings! Here is a little gift before parting," and she opened a little prayer-book that she held in her hand. It was bound in white velvet; a little cross of mother-o'pearl was on the outside; and on the clasp (which, as well as the bindings, was of mother-o'-pearl) was engraved-"Edith Anteegar." There were two markers of Alice's work-tiny glass bead crosses on white satin, one of which was placed at the marriage-service. "It is not much, but you will think of me sometimes when you

use it ?"

"Dear Alice, it is the present I should have liked most from you, for I hope I shall use it very often; and each time I shall think of my darling little sister. We have been always together; how I shall miss the dear little face! Oh, Alice, it is hard to part!"

"But, Edith, you must not talk so now; it will never do. We will write to each other every day. I will tell you how I get on, and

But here Alice's tears began to flow, and the two sisters were clasped in each other's arms for some minutes.

"Edith, Edith, you must not cry like this! What will papa and mamma say when they see swollen eyes? Come now, I must have you stop this instant; it is no compliment to me in my bridesmaid's dress."

Kenneth easily contrived to entice Alice into the garden. so as to leave Norman and Edith alone. In about half an hour (which Kenneth thought a considerable time) they made their appearance; and Norman, leading Edith towards Kenneth, put her trem-a ve you, and in an hour's time, when bling hand in his, sayingAnnie and I return to dress you, I shall

"Yes, Alice, how could you put it on so early?"

"You do not suppose I am going to appear in anything but your dress to-day! Here is Jane with some coffee.

I shall

CHAPTER X.

at

to make Alice's conduct appear in another light.

One day, when she expected Kenneth (he generally called every week), she contrived that Alice should have nothing particular to do, and sent her into the garden, where she was soon joined by Lieutenant Cullen. She had not been there long be fore Kenneth arrived. It was Saturday; so that Mr. Vernon was at home; and, just as Kenneth was leaving

"Where is Alice, said he.

"I should have thought," she replied, "that she would have heard Mr. Kenneth's horse. I suppose she is in the garden with Lieutenant Cullen; she often is this time of the morning."

Alice had heard the horse, for which reason she had avoided the house; and when her father, with Kenneth, came to look for her, she felt almost faint. Her colour quite fled from her face, inasmuch that Lieutenant Cullen said he feared she was not well; but she replied that she felt better, and advanced to meet her father. She felt herself shaking hands with Kenneth; but her colour did not return until Kenneth, keeping her hand within his, gazed in her face for a moment. thought his voice was sorrowful as he said: "Why, Alice, I have not seen you for some time."

LIEUTENANT CULLEN had been Heathfield some weeks before the wedding. He was a man of about thirty years of age, with nothing particularly striking in his appearance, except enormous whiskers of a dark brown colour. He had an extravagant style of conversation, particularly when addressing Alice, with whom he appeared struck at first sight. He often endeavoured to gain her attention, and succeeded, as he thought; for Alice was frank and open-hearted to everyone, and rather looked upon Lieutenant Cullen as an object of pity. Mr. Vernon had once or twice asked Matilda how long he intended staying; but she said, now he was there he might just as well remain for some time; his regiment might be ordered abroad, and they would never see him again; "besides, said she, "he diverts Alice's thoughts from Edith, and prevents her moping all day." Indeed it appeared that Alice wanted to be roused; for, from the day of the wedding, she had not been herself; Harry's speech had upset her; it had given her a feeling she had never experienced before; it flashed across her mind to what he alluded; but before it had never entered her head. She knew she and Kenneth were often together, for she liked to talk to him. He seemed to enter into her meanings. But now it struck her, had she not been acting unmaidenly~ thrusting herself forward? Oh, what did he think of her? If even Harry had remarked it, he must have done so. But then he was so kind to her. Yes; but he was too good to let her see what he really thought of her. Alice thought, and thought until she was puzzled. She did not like to tell anyone-not even her father; for she felt she loved Kenneth; but she did not think of his loving her. All this made her feel unhappy-she knew not why; for she But she could was a light-hearted child. not banish her feelings; and when she went to bed on the evening of her sister's marriage, it was not for many hours that she could compose herself; and when she did fall asleep her little pillow was wet with tears. This change was remarked by Matilda, who fancied that the excitement of the wedding might have raised suspicions in her mind which did not formerly exist; she, therefore, by some means or other, kept her constantly absent whenever Kenneth called; but, seeing that this did not alter her conduct-but, on the contrary, she seemed rather relieved when she heard that Kenneth had called when she was engaged, Matilde resolved to change her course, and

She

No, Kenneth, I have been so occupied when you have called."

"But you used to have time to come down, yet you always had occupation."

"Oh, yes; that was for myself; but for the last two or three times I have been engaged for Matilda.”

"I assure you, Mr. Kenneth,' said Lieutenant Cullen, "I consider myself a privileged person if I am fortunate enough to gain Miss Alice's attention. This morning, for instance, she has favoured me with her conversation for more than an hour; it will set me up for the rest of the day. I am afraid I shall find my regiment dull after the enchantment of Heathfield. I hope they will not unfit me entirely for my duties."

"I was not aware that the army was considered so dull.'

"It is not exactly so; but when your heart is somewhere else, Mr. Kenneth, you will find yourself dull, though seemingly surrounded by everything you could wish. I fear this will be the case with me; for my thoughts I feel will be here, and my heart also."

"Lieutenant Cullen uses strong terms does he not Kenneth ?"

"Oh, Miss Alice, not nearly so strong as my heart would send forth, particularly on some subjects."

Kenneth looked pained, and turned to go. "Well, Alice, when are you coming to see Annie? She often asks for you." "Oh, Miss Alice has promised to show me her six old women; perhaps we can go that way."

"Oh, I must wait till papa can go with us-it is half the pleasure."

"Not so much pleasure as it gives me to walk with you."

Alice looked vexed, for she saw Kenneth was thinking about something.

"Good-bye," said she; "I said I was always occupied when you called; but I was not this morning, and I hope I shall not be engaged when you come again." "Do you, Alice ?"

His manner was grave and pointed, and Alice thought she had said too much. She again blushed deeper than before, as she

answered

"Yes, Kenneth, if you like to see me; I will try and please everybody." A tear glistened in her eye. "Thank you, Alice, you will please me, but please yourself."

see people with mended, but none with ragged clothes; so that until we came to able for their Popish bigotry, and deep Brittany, where the people are as remarkdrinking, and dreadful swearing, as for their antique and picturesque costumes, we almost never saw a Frenchwoman with a rag on her back or a spot on her face; and even here the women, speaking of them generally, as they ply the distaff while they tend their cows in the field, or walk the roads knitting, or sit at their windows sewing, show a tidiness that is as remarkable as their industry. In fact, for neatness of attire, respect for personal appearance both in herself and in her family, and habits of industry, the Frenchwoman is a pattern to the world. Scarcely ever do you find them what the Scotch people call hand-idle,' and slatterns never. The girl who keeps a shop is busy with some piece of work when customers do not require her attention. The woman who sits by her stall on the open street, with her feet on a box of lighted charcoal to keep them warm, is usually sewing or knitting, and only lifts her head from her work to say, when she becomes aware of your presence, Que voulez vous, Monsieur? And but yesterday, in walking through the weekly market at Quimper, where the Breton women sat all tidily attired, with towers and wings of snowy linen on their heads, and on a table before them the produce of their dairy in curiously-carved pats and pillars of first-rate butter, I was greatly struck with the spectacle of industry which the scene presented. Hardly one not engaged with a customer but was busy with wire or needle-a lively as well went as fast as their tools. I have seen as pleasant spectacle, for their tongues in the humble homes of our own country "It were injustice to the Frenchwoman how a taste for tidiness and habits of inbot to state that to her is due a consider-dustry will throw over poverty itself a able measure of that absence of wretched- decent appearance; and characterised as ness and poverty which characterises the the Frenchwoman is by these, to her may streets of Paris. Call her, if you choose, be in some measure attributed that happy and as some do, frivolous, or as others, absence of the appearance of extreme and deceitful, she has a taste and sense of pro- abject wretchedness which distinguishes priety which would make her ashamed to the streets of Paris.' show herself with an unwashed face, or send forth her husband or children with a rag on their backs or a hole in their dress. In Paris or elsewhere you may

Although tears filled her eyes, Alice felt more cheerful than she had for weeks; and when she went to her room, she knelt down, and thanked God for making her happier; although she knew not why, she was more happy. Matilda saw the effect of Kenneth's visit on Alice, and determined, end how it might, that she should not again

see him when he called.

(To be concluded.)

FRENCH CLEANLINESS AND
INDUSTRY.

THE Rev. Dr. Guthrie, in an article, in
Good Words, on the "Streets of Paris,"

VOL. VIL-NEW SERIES.

Be upright in your way; admit nothing in your particular calling that is inconsistent with principle.

G