For he never loved again-his true and constant heart never quickened its pulse for any other woman. Time, indeed, softened the acuteness of his regrets, and reconciled him to his solitary fate, and gave him a comforter beyond all price, in the daughter of his lost Sophia, on whom, as time passed, he poured all the riches of that affection which had been so vainly bestowed on her mother.

For even in her childish years, he was her frequent companion and playmate either at Mrs. Villiers' abode in England, or when that lady visited him abroad, almost always taking her little god-child with her. For much as Maude was the darling of her parents, being their only child, Mr. and Mrs. John Snobbins were too fully alive to its advantages in various ways, both as regarded health and education, to place any limit on their little girl's intercourse with her kind friend, Mrs. Villiers, or her kinder Uncle Abel.

It were too much to say that Abel's tem

per had been entirely untouched by the adverse influences of bitter disappointment and a solitary life.

But the slight tendency to acerbity which might, occasionly, be detected in his conversation, was never known to influence his actions. Cynical sometimes in language, he was altogether Christian in heart.

CHAPTER XVI.

THERE were few incidents in Mrs. De Snobyn's career, which afforded her greater satisfaction than the circumstance--the knowledge of which, she gained accidentally from the newspapers-that her relative, Sir Charles Marchmont, Bart., had retuned to England with his family, after an absence of many years, and was then sojourning in London. This information she gleaned on the very evening of the day

that Abel had visited her; and it certainly was more efficacious in dispelling the disagreeable impression his visit had left, than all the efforts of her daughters, or all the agrémens of her costly house.

Accompanied by her eldest son and daughter, she called on the baronet at his hotel-having previously by letter, announced her intention of doing so; and her wish to make the acquaintance of Lady Marchmont, with whom she begged Sir Charles's good offices in favour of his early playmate. The claim was cordially acknowledged. Sir Charles well remembered his cousin and early playmate, though he could hardly reconcile his reminiscences of the black-eyed romp of his nursery, and the majestic woman who now entered his drawing-room. He greeted her kindly, even affectionately, and led her towards Lady Marchmont, who immediately on her entrance, had made preparations to lay down her knitting and rise from her chair. This feat, however, she had not dexterity

to accomplish so quickly as she wishedfor she dropped her knitting, and in stooping to take it up she entangled the needles and dropped a loop, so, to avoid increasing the mischief, she held her knitting fast, and begged her visitor would excuse her hand. But if the salutation wanted grace, it was not deficient in cordiality; and, moreover, Mrs. De Snobyn was not in a critical mood.

Mrs. De Snobyn then introduced her son and daughter. Sir Charles looked at them with interest and friendliness.

"These young people are sad chronometers, my cousin," said he, "I, indeed, am an old fellow, and look what I am-but you would hardly be taken for the mother of this young lady. You look charmingly well, indeed."

The remark was not a mere courtly compliment, but was evidently made in truthful and kindly sincerity; and was, of course, very graciously received.

"But," continued Sir Charles, "though