this period, time for him to be placed under the care and instruction of others-a proceeding which, although it deprived me of the blessing of his presence, and took the only sunshine from my heart, I hastened as much as possible, that he might escape the infectious example at home. My whole care was now to school and keep my heart and manners in subjection to my duty, to receive my husband cheerfully when he returned from his continual absences, and to avoid speaking a single word that might be construed into reproval or aversion. In this way I sought to win him back to virtue, but in vain; his language and contempt were as painful and insulting as ever, and his reckless indifference to my feelings even stronger. He seemed to glory in setting at defiance the principles and religion, that he knew were my support; yet only when (in his summer holidays my son came home, and his father strove, seeing how it tortured me, to implant in his mind his own vicious ideas) did I murmur or rebel; but silence then would have been sin, and I remonstrated strongly. All my reproaches and entreaties were, however, ineffectual; and when, at the age of fourteen, my boy died, I seemed to bless God, even in the midst of my agony, that my darling was beyond all human influence for

ill.

"Six months after, before the mourning for his son had lost its gloss, my husband lured from her home and family the beautiful young wife of one of his best friends; and when, a year subsequent to the elopement, their retreat was discovered by the betrayed and injured husband, your uncle was so horribly wounded in the duel which ensued, that although he lived some months after, his sight never returned. The wretched companion of his crime, spurned and left penniless by her family, long resisted every effort to relieve her necessities; but in time she became assured of my entire forgiveness, and not only submitted to receive assistance from me, but, before her death, became a sincere penitent."

Did you ever see him again?" whispered Mabel-"I mean after he left you.'

'I nursed him through his last illness; I was with him till his death; but ask me no moreGod only reads the hearts of the dying."

"My darling, suffering aunt," exclaimed Mabel, looking up into the care-worn face, over which tears were slowly falling, "whoever endured half so much, or bore it with such angel mercy-who can ever resemble you?"

"You can, my child; and but to encourage you to do so, and that you may strive to bear even more patiently than I did, I would not have told you my sorrowful story. My life has been one of affliction and trial; in the happiness your love has given me, in teaching and guiding you from infancy, I have found the only joy my heart has known, since my own darling, whose place you have taken, died. You will not make me suffer more-begin my days of misery again, Mabel?"

"What shall I do?" said Lady Trafford burying her face in her hands.

"Go home with me to-morrow. Add to your beauty by every aid of dress and manner; enter the lists with this rival in your husband's heart; shew him by your gentleness, gaiety, and grace, that the wife he slights is more attractive and prizeworthy than the mindless flirt he admires. However hurt or mortified you may be, maintain a steady empire over your voice and countenance; give him no opportunity for drawing a comparison to your disadvantage, between a clever wife's disagreeable sharpness, sullenness, or sarcasm, and an artful girl's smiles and amiability. Yield to his whims, dress as he admires, sing or be silent as his humour goes; watch him as you would a treasure you feared to lose, a lover you strove to gain; and with your beauty, tact, and love, you will win back his heart again."

"You did all this, and yet you failed."

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'No, Mabel, I did not; I was injured, and I resented. Instead of conciliation, I endured; and when I would have humbled, the time was past, and I could not. How much had not remorse to do with my after-sorrow? No suffering is like the consciousness of neglected duty; injury from others is light to bear, while our own heart is silent; it is when that rises against us, armed with the memory of opportunities lost and duties unperformed, that grief is really agony. To save you from this, Mabel, I advise you as I do-I plead with you for yourself."

For some time Lady Trafford was silent; but at last she raised her head from the table upon which she had bowed it, and in a clear, low voice, said

"You have conquered, aunt, I will go back; but it must be to-night-I cannot stay here."

"You are right, Mabel; some of your dresses are still in your old wardrobe: change that which you have on for a plainer one; and while you do so, the carriage and I will be ready too you will like me to be with you?"

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Yes," replied Lady Trafford, rising hurriedly to leave the room, as if fearful lest her resolution should give way.

The London season was at its height; and the Traffords, accompanied by Mrs. Clavering, Park, which had been presented to Mabel on her occupied a stately mansion overlooking Hyde marriage, by her father. The princely settlement made upon her by Sir William Clavering at the same time gave her the uncontrolled disposal of a large income. She was the acknowledged belle of the season, and an object of universal admiration. To all outward seeming, therefore, she was surrounded with every charm that could make life beautiful; but those who knew her best could tell, although her smile was as radiant, her eye as brilliant as ever, that her pillow was often wet, her handkerchief often steeped with tears. Her husband's indifference was, even in the circle where all such heartlessness is common, singular in its degree; and around her young, brilliant, and devoted beauty,

N

admirers thronged eagerly; but proud as the eagle, she was as free, and, though mated with a traitor, would not stoop again. Night after night she knew that he was either in the operabox of a rival, or at the gaming-table of his club; yet faithful to the promise she had made, her eye never reproached, her voice never repelled him. Once resolved to follow her pitying aunt's advice, she did so honestly; but although gentle and gracious to him, as if his conduct were all that a husband's should be, she was colder, haughtier, and more scornful than ever to all the world beside-its most favourite cavalier could never boast of receiving a single smile from her proud lips.

In this sad way many weary months passed on, until at last the following incident occurred: In the library of Trafford House were two recesses, fitted with large couches, and almost screened from sight by the heavy velvet curtains that, looped near the ground, fell in massive folds upon it. Upon one of these, during a hot summer afternoon, Mabel threw herself, and fell asleep; but after a short time she was awakened by the sound of voices in the room, and in the speakers she recognized her husband and his cousin. She was evidently concealed by the drapery, and dared not stir, fearful of being dis- | covered.

"I wish I could, but it's out of the question, I've mortgaged every inch of land that I can get at, given bills and securities upon every available thing I have in the world, and my face is as well known to the Jews as their Synagogue. I can't help you," said Baldwin Gray, in answer to some question which Mabel had not heard.

"I must have a thousand pounds at least, today; but from where, I know no more than the man in the moon. If it were a tradesman's bill, why, hang 'em, I shouldn't care-they can wait, for they make profit enough; but my last two or three affairs have not been paid as quickly as they ought, and I fancy the men begin to look shy; besides, that confounded little fool Murray has been buying some foolery or another at one of those women's shops, and writes to me to lend her the money, as if I had nothing to do but supply her whims; it's too late for that now-it was well enough six months ago. But now C'est toute autre chose; still I must send it somehow this once, or she's such a little idiot she'll betray herself, and I shall be having a visit on behalf of her liege lord."

"Who is the thousand to?"

"Walter Clavering, my wife's cousin; I never knew him bet before, but I think it was to test my resources, for he is a monstrous favourite with the old man, who would, I know, discard me for ever, if he had any idea of my position; and he's too rich to make that agreeable."

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'Why don't you ask Lady Trafford?" "No, confound it, I can't do that; I have not used her well, and I'm not bad enough yet to rob her, especially for such purposes; somehow or other, the worse I get the better she behaves, till I'm often half-ashamed to look her in the face. She's so wonderfully improved, too,

lately-no frowns, no storms; none of those confounded inuendoes either, which wives love to indulge in. I can't think what the fiend possesses me, to do as I do, with a wife who is ten times as handsome; and admired as any woman in London; but that's it if she were not my wife, I should adore her."

"Try the experiment now, you might do worse. At the Queen's ball last week she was the acknowledged beauty of the night; and I do believe she never smiled after you left the Palace."

"Poor Bell! if I were only free of these cursed incumbrances, I might have the grace to turn over a new leaf-reform, as old women say, and be civil to her; but pestered to death as I am, and owing Walter this money, the very sight of her exasperates me, particularly as I know that if Clavering is not paid, and tells her father so, it will lead to an exposure of my affairs not at all to be desired."

"Well, I can do you no good. It is now nearly three, and I promised to ride with Lady Vane at half-past, so I must go. Will you be at the Guards to-night?"

"Yes; and I must before then devise some means to meet this fellow, armed for payment; but I have a score letters to write, so I shall not see you till night."

When they had left the room, Mabel sprang hastily from her concealment, and ringing the bell, ordered her carriage instantly; then dressing quickly, she entered it, and drove as rapidly as possible through the crowded city streets to her banker's.

"What is my balance in your hands?" she asked of the manager, who came obsequiously forward.

"I will examine, my Lady; but in the mean time pray come into my room: this is a shock. ing unfit place for you-pray walk this way?"

"I thank you, no, I am in haste; do me the favour to let me know at once how I stand?"

"Certainly, my Lady, certainly." And the fussy little man turned over an enormous book, in the pages of which the name of Trafford stood conspicuous.

"Here it is; we keep our books in capital order, my Lady-no confusion, all at a glance: last year's balance, and twelve hundred and thirty pounds; nothing drawn this year as yet; five thousand pounds, and eight hundred Sir William Clavering paid in to your account yesterday, my Lady; in all, seven thousand and thirty pounds."

"Can I have it now, Sir?"

"Of course, my Lady, certainly; but-" he caught Mabel's impatient gesture; "well, really, you shall have the money directly: here is a cheque-seven thousand and thirty poundssign it, if you please, my Lady-just here; yes, that's right. Notes or gold? Both? Bless me-well-."

But before he could finish his disjointed speech, Mabel had bade him good morning, was in her carriage again, and driving as quickly as before back to Hyde Park. She rushed up

husband's door. "Come in."

At a table covered with pink notes, tradesmen's bills, and ominous-looking wafer-sealed letters, sat Sir Edward Trafford. At the sight of his wife, who was as unexpected and unwelcome a visitor as an apparition would have been, he exclaimed in some confusion

Why, Mabel, what the deuce brings you here?"

She walked up to the table, and placing her hand upon it to steady herself, for she trembled like a culprit, while her sweet face was crimson, and her eyes bent to the ground, she said

"Do not be angry, Edward. By a strange chance, I was in the library to-day when you and Captain Gray were there," (the Baronet muttered an angry oath), "and, without intending it, overheard your difficulties. I would have left the room, if I could have done so without being seen; but I did not wish Baldwin Gray to see me. I know all, Edward," she said, raising her glorious and forgiving eyes to his; " and if you will accept this, I think it will be sufficient to release you from annoyance." Her husband bent his head upon the table; a new sense of shame was coming strangely over his senses. What a contrast was the love of this pure, true heart, to the interested and unhallowed liaisons in which he had been entangled so long! Deserted, injured, and forgotten, yet there stood his wife in her surpassing beauty, without a word of reproach, or tone of upbraiding, eager to help him from the toils in which his faithlessness and dissipation had involved him; while not half-an-hour before, he had received a selfish and angry note from the false wife and heartless mistress, for whose sake he had wronged her.

'Edward," pleaded those sweet womanly tones (Clara's voice was harsh and thin, insignificant, like its mistress)," do not be offended, nor hesitate to accept this poor service at my hands. If you knew how valueless, in my estimation, these notes are, when compared with your comfort, you would not deny me the pleasure of your acceptance."

Her voice faltered with the choking tears which impeded her utterance. Sir Edward looked up; there was something strangely attractive in the beseeching attitude and bowed head of the haughty and beautiful being before him, which awoke all the better impulses of his nature; and springing suddenly from his chair, spurning recklessly the intervening table from him, in an instant Mabel was clasped to the heart she had not approached for months; and impetuous alike for good and ill, the expressions of her husband's shame, love, and contrition, were poured forth with vehement earnestness.

A short extract from a letter to Mrs. Claver

"We shall, I hope, be with you in a fortnight. I am very anxious that Edward should stand for the

county; but with all my endeavours, I cannot inand tells me that he is very happy as he is, and by far fuse my spirit of ambition into him. He laughs, too idle to seek for pleasure in such a discordant place as the Lower House: but I know his talents, and am eager that all the world should admire and prize him as I do. Ah, dear aunt Clavering, how thankful am I that I followed your good advice! tion, respectability, and integrity, I see fresh proofs what a happy woman I am now! and in his affecof the wisdom of your counsel. Oh! that in all hours of peril, every wife had as true a friend as you, to stand between her rashness and her peace."

Well-well I know one glance will bring
An answering glance of thine,
And thou to happy life wilt spring;

Ah, were that glance but mine!
Alas! in vain I watch to see
Those folded lids arise;
Awake-awake, O gentle love,
That sleepest in her eyes!