In spite of these jocose and cheering remarks, when Dr. C——, returned that evening to town, having carefully watched his patient, his fears were much greater than his hopes. "Poor, dear, little woman!" he mentally exclaimed, "what will become of her? She is more attached to him than ever. One good symptom, there is no cough, the lungs are sound-he may come round."

Spring! Sweet advent of summer's radiant treasures, delicious harbinge thy tender verdure like an infant's smile passes. from us when riper charms appear-ah! none surpassing thine. Hour, by hour we see thee give up to us some young nursling, reared and guarded from the inclement winter in thy soft, genial bosom; thy duty is complete; expanding flowers, thicker foliage spreads its shadows, and glittering lights flash through the groves of Woodlands.

Notwithstanding sad forebodings and extreme debility, Lord Belmont lives on, proof of the conquest achieved by strong vitality over fearful odds. The Earl's better nature inspires a wish to subdue that morbid selfishness which embittered the last few years. He begins to live for others, and tries to redeem the wayward unkindness towards the fond wife who endured all, to whom life was only for his comfort. There seemed an effort to be cheerful, grateful, for the many blessings showered upon him, though the crowning blessing health was still denied.

An incident occurred showing, however frail the body, the mind had acquired a healthier tone. We recollect the churlish manner in which the Earl refused to meet his wife's family in Switzerland, and the evasive answers poor Fanny was compelled to give for their own immediate departure; from that time the continued subterfuges she still expressed caused her parents much anxiety. She was such an affectionate child, that there must be some mystery; Lady Vernon resolved to prove it, and early in May announced her intentions of coming to Woodlands the following week. Lord Belmont now expressed pleasure at the thought of seeing her, and of the happiness Fanny would enjoy in her mother's society. As the carriage drove up the Earl came forward to meet his mother-in-law, and tried to give a smile of welcome, that smile far more affecting than any tears could be. Lady Vernon was a complete woman of the world, gifted with infinite self.command; but her countenance betrayed the shock as she beheld the attenuated frame and care-shrunk features before her. Could it be the man who only three years past shone so bright in the noontide vigour of health and enjoyment? the genial, happy friend?-the charm of society? Lady Vernon

could not answer the faint words he uttered. When Fanny met her-after the fond embrace, the first gush of tenderness-the mother looked in the daughter's face, reading there the records of past misery. When alone together, and closely questioned, the only reply was an entreaty that the change in her husband might not be noticed; he was doing well, only rather weak. Lady Belmont's timid nature shrunk from detailing the fearful story. That piteous scene in Newgate cell; the remorse-struck father; the doomed, deserted child lying dead before him; the sudden shock which for a time had overwhelmed the penitent spirit-struck mind and body until all natural feelings were crushed. Great Father of our immortal souls! Inspirer! Preserver! thou dost hold the link binding us with Thee: withdraw Thy hand, and it is broken. The frail creature is left to battle with helpless infirmity, or writhe in misery. Such had been the husband's condition; such the wife's devoted constancy. Better had it been could her mother have refrained from questioning the past; a merciful decree had calmed the perturbed spirit, saying to the dark cloud, Disperse. But Lady Vernon was a woman unaccustomed to opposition; she determined to know all.

The moment Fanny left the room she summoned Hannah, Lady Belmont's faithful servant (our old acquaintance) into her presence. Hannah had been bred up in the Vernon household, never knew another service, nor beyond that family another home, now, type of a class fast dying out; one of those attached servants belonging to the house, sharer in their joys and sorrows, identified with their interests more than their own, a memory of the olden time. She believed there never was, and never would be, any living creature so wise or good, or worthy of respect, as Lady Vernon; therefore it was with no little dread she stood before her ladyship, having been cautioned that very morning not to breathe a word about Lord Belmont's illness.

Fixing on her a penetrating glance, Lady Vernon thus addressed her, in a kind but rather authorative voice: "Hannah Jarvis, when my daughter married I sent you with her to be her constant attendant."

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'And, my lady, I have never left her for a single day.”

66 Then

you cannot be ignorant of the original cause of Lord Belmont's illness."

"Ah, my lady, it is a sad story!"

"No preamble, if you please; tell me immediately the whole truth without prevarication."

"Heaven forbid I should ever presume to use variations with your ladyship."

"Then tell me at once."

"Oh, please, my lady, don't flutter me; I must begin at the beginning; it was all about a child."

"A child! what child? whose?"

'Saving your presence, my lady, many years ago, when Lord Belmont was very young, he had a misfortune-the girl had a baby; after that she married, and went to foreign parts with her husband; left the little boy with her mother, they fell into poverty, and were taken the workhouse."

"And the best place for them."

"So I always said, my lady; that was just my opinion. But as the lad grew up he wished to better himself; so he ran away, and got up to London. He fell into a bad lot, and learnt housebreaking. One night he was caught, and came to be hanged-No, no! I mistake; he died before he was hanged."

“Go on.”

"One Sunday night, my lady, some wicked gentleman wrote my lord all about it; he was in a sad taking, and the next morning would go up to Newgate prison to try what could be done. The lad had died in the night, and my lord saw him lying a corpse before him in the cell. The shock overset him altogether; he came home, had fits and a bad fever; then, my lady, he fell into strange manners, and-"

Lady Vernon stopped her short (for when Hannah was once set going she was always vastly circumstantial). "I see it is all on the nerves; he must see Sir Henry Gossamer-he is the only man now for nervous cases.”

"Oh, my lady, Dr. C-- comes down here every week to cheer him up a little."

"Nonsense! Dr. C

is very well, but his day is over; Sir Henry is the man. I shall insist upon a consultation."

These facts having been extracted, Lady Vernon's good sense and feeling restrained her from further questioning her daughter, or alluding to past trials so nobly endured; but on one point her ladyship maintained a pertinacious will: Sir Henry Gossamer must be called in. Diverging from another celebrated physician of the day, who traced every human disease to the liver (and administered calomel to a sore toe), so did Sir Henry trace all diseases to the nerves a popular doctrine, seeing that half our complaints are imaginary. Our baronet, "the Court and fashionable Esculapius of the day," was a kind-hearted, amiable man, suggesting invalid comforts, inspecting the result; so to speak, a head nurse out of petticoats.

A few days after her ladyship's arrival our old friend Dr. Ccame down to Woodlands. His warm, honest heart beat quick

with joy when he found Fanny so bright and happy-mother and daughter united-a reciprocal affection; while Lord Belmont, rousing up from all thoughts of self, was endeavouring by every means to evince the pleasure he felt in Lady Vernon's society.

C—

"This is beyond our hopes," said Dr. C as the party strolled through the grounds, and the Earl turned back to point out some picturesque point of view, "Your ladyship has already worked a marvellous change. All danger is now passed."

"Yes," replied Lady Vernon, "but the nerves affected."

are still

"They are; time alone will restore them." (It was amusing how two clever people managed to fence off the subject which neither would approach, though each knew that the other was fully cognisant of all the previous circumstances.)

"Still I think it should be treated as a real case."

"The less treatment the better; a cheerful home, the devoted attention of his charming wife, will bring the nerves right."

"Perhaps; yet I have often observed how beneficial any slight change, some fresh plan, has proved."

"What would your ladyship suggest?"

"The family are very anxious Lord Belmont should see Sir Henry Gossamer. Do you object to a consultation?"

"Certainly not, I am always happy to meet him; but allow me, Lady Vernon, to express my fear lest the idea of any ceremony may bring back to Lord Belmont's mind remembrances of past illness, a danger to be avoided."

"The family wish it; we all think it right. Will you meet Sir Henry here?"

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Certainly, any day he appoints I will run down for an hour." "Thanks, then I will write to him immediately, and let you

know."

After some difficulties an appointment was made, and the fashionable physician, in his well-known light-brown chariot came down to Woodlands soon after one o'clock. Luncheon waited. Dr. C- exact to the hour. (We may here remark that our worthy friend was a shrewd Scotchman. He held the wise maxim, "No man can afford to make enemies;" therefore whether in consultation with other physicians or general practitioners, he never objected to new prescriptions, provided they were harmless: or, in cases of severe illness, that one was efficacious. The feelings of relations and friends were never tortured by the differing and opposite plans of medical men. With full confidence in the innocent practice of Sir Henry, he prepared for the conference.)

After luncheon the party left the dining-room, and Sir Henry

entered into pleasant conversation with Lord Belmont, requesting leave to feel his pulse, as after eating a vast difference takes pace.

"My dear lord," said Gossamer, "you must oblige us by extreme attention to your diet; really be as watchful and careful as you would be with your own child.”

This random shot tended not to steady the pulse. Fanny coloured deeply. Lady Vernon looked aside. Sir Henry proceeded: "At twelve a glass of sherry, brown sherry, a dry biscuit, or we shall not object to a sponge cake, no currants in any formslow poison."

An adjoining door stood open, the members of the faculty retired for consultation. The chamber they entered seemed suggestive of grave and studious thought; even the massive inkstand looked grave, the dark oaken table, how solemn! two velvet-cushioned armchairs were drawn opposite each other. Dr. C―― ensconced himself in one, took up a pen, and composed his mind to meditation. Sir Henry turned to the window, attracted by the view it presented, rippling bright and clear through the grounds, a stream of water, a cut from the river, formed at some distance a little lake; around it tall flowering shrubs and branches of the birch-tree, the acacia, and mountain ash provided shelter from the noonday heat. After a minute's admiring gaze Gossamer turned round, exclaiming "What splendid fishing they have here, my dear C--! You appear very intimate: could you manage to get an invitation for my nephew, Archibald to come down for a couple of days?—he would enjoy the holiday so much."

You had better ask Lady Vernon was the reply, "she is

paramount here."

The Belmonts "Not to-day; perhaps the next time I come. seem very hospitable, Apropos of hospitality, are the Fortescues still at Eden Court? What delightful parties we had there; house full of guests; fresh amusements every day; all the company pleased with each other. The old General, how savage in a tit of the gout! God, how he used to swear at me!"'

"My dear Sir Henry, your anecdotes are always amusing. I regret it is not in my power to enjoy them to-day; an appointment in town calls me back immediately. Had we not better hold our consultation ?" A demure smile was round those thin lips, a twinkle in the sharp grey eye, as Dr. C-- interrupted the florid speaker.

"Oh, yes, by the bye! ten thousand pardons! I forgot; what shall it be?"

Whatever you please, Sir Henry. You prescribe, I endorse.” Gossamer's pen flew rapidly, decidedly; no doubting.

He