MATERIALS: of a yard of purple velvet, a piece of crimson and gold soutache, 14 yards gold cord, and gold tassel. This cap is formed very simply, and is so quickly worked, that we are sure it will be liked. A rich, but simple braided pattern, surrounds the head-piece; and the crown is worked in a similar way. The head-piece is 7 inches deep, and large enough to go round the head, varying from 21 to 23 inches. It is set full round the crown, which is about 5 inches in diameter. look well on black Any kind of soutache will a lighter green, or gold and silver will do. When made up, the cap is to be lined with silk of the same colour, and edged with gold cord round the head and crown. AIGUILLETTE. LADY'S NETTED PURSE. MATERIALS:-A skein of scarlet gossamer netting silk; a little vert-islay and white netting silk; keins of gold thread, No. 1; French trimmings; steel netting mesh, Nos. 14 and 17. Ivory gauge. Begin with 4 stitches, and fine mesh, close into a round, and net two in every stitch. Of the eight thus worked, 4 will be long and four short stitches. Do two in every short stitch, and one in every long. Continue to work round and round in this manner, always increasing by netting 2 in every short stitch (which occurs four times in each round) until there are 60 stitches altogether. Then do 64 rounds without any increase. Take the mesh No. 14, and do one round with it. Resume the fine mesh; net the second long stitch, drawing it through the first; then the first. Continue all round in the same way. Do two plain rounds, and again repeat from the one with the large mesh, finishing with 6 plain rounds instead of two. THE POINTS.-Net 9; turn, net 8 on the 9; turn, net 7 on the 8; turn, net 6 on the 7. Continue in this way until there are only two stitches to net, which form the extreme point. Fasten off. Do all the points in the same manner. FOR THE DARNING. With the gold thread darn the star at the bottom of the purse, and the shell above it. The three-cornered pieces at the bottom of the purse are alternately vert islay and white, the scallop above them and below the shell being white over green, and vice versa. In the same way these two colours are blended in the stars and scrolls on the upper part of the purse. The points are alternately gold, green, and white. AIGUILLETTE. It gives us great pleasure to present our friends with a perfect section of a collar of the fashionable shape and size, which will not oblige them to trouble themselves with enlarging it. The Italian braid saves so much work, and looks so exactly like the real old lace, that we are sure this design will be popular. It must be tacked down at both edges, as smoothly as possible. Five points will make a collar large enough for most persons; but those who are stout will probably require six. The entire collar, except the neck, is to be edged with Sorrento lace, which may be done in Evans's Mecklenburgh thread, No. 80. The other stitches are done in No. 100, except the English bars, which are in No. 120 Mecklenburgh. AIGUILLETTE. THE WIFE'S REVENGE. BY THE AUTHOR OF "FLORENCE SACKVILLE," &c. &c. "Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer cloud It was the evening of a bright day in June. | The heat had been intense during the morning; but a brisk summer storm falling just before sunset, had cooled the air, and invigorated the thirsty plants, causing them to hold up their drooping heads as if in thankfulness. Upon the slender branches of the trees and shrubs the shower had hung a glorious wreath of manycoloured gems, in the twinkling, trembling raindrops which depended from them, and which glinted back a thousand brilliant hues as the rays of the parting sun fell askant the lawn. A multitude of black birds and thrushes hopped eagerly about, searching for the unwary snails and insects that had emerged from their underground houses to revel in the wet and mossy grass; while at the slightest noise, the songsters raised their heads in alarm, and flitted away with a low, quick flight, and sharp chattering cry, to the shrubby belt which girdled the enclosure. It was a fair scene; and standing at one of the open windows of the cottage was a lady, who evidently thought it so, and to whom the pretty demesne as evidently belonged. Beside her, close to the lattice, grew a splendid rose-tree, one of that sort which is now-alas! for our degenerate days, when fashion is everything, and a fine name oftentimes the only worth of a costly favourite nearly expelled from all but cottage gardens; I mean the rich and fragrant cabbagerose, with its great massy blossoms and unri valled scent. Beautiful old tree! my heart warms to thee as to a long-loved friend, whether I greet thee in thy place of honour by the peasant's doorway, or sheltering with thine old acquaintance the grey bush of southern-wood in the sunniest corner of the tiny garden patch. Ah! the pleasant memories thy fresh, sweet odours bring back to my thoughts: my merry childhood, its games and glee, the huge bunch which, placed in a rare vase of Sevres china, always stood during the season upon the table of my stately grandmother, one of those staunch Tories of the olden times who are now gradually vanishing from the earth, and who honoured and cherished the cabbage-rose, malgrè its unpoetic name, from a firm belief that it, and no other, was the original of the Lancastrian badge, so loyally followed by her ancestors. The bestowal of a bud or blossom from this well-loved tree was the surest mark of her regard and approval; and happy beyond all her companions was the frolicsome urchin upon whom this distinguished testimony to merit was conferred. How it might have been when we grew older and more mercenary I know not; but then, in those happier and purer, because less selfish days, I am quite sure that there was not one of us who would not have chosen and prized our grandmother's simple flower before the costliest thing-always excepting a watch, that dearest object of a child's ambition-which could have been offered to her. "She loved the gift for the giver's sake;" and I will answer for it, that never does the scent of that old-fashioned rose steal over the senses of either of the world-worn beings who were children then, without recalling with a pang sorrow the courtly words and tender caresses now passed away from them for ever. of With all these memories clinging to it, no wonder that beyond all newer and grander sorts I love the cabbage-rose; and nearly if not quite as fond of it was the lady from whose cottagelawn we have so long uncivilly been absent; and she was busily engaged in shaking out the heavy moisture which, hiding itself among the closelypressed leaves, bent the blossoms nearly to the earth, when a rapid step and exclamation caused her to turn round, and in an instant her fa vourite niece stood beside her. The beautiful face of the intruder was flushed and excited; her bonnet swung loosely in her hand; and the hair, from which it had been impatiently snatched, as if its weight were all too much for the proud little head, hung in sad confusion. "Why, Mabel, my pet, what brings you here, and in such a state?" exclaimed Mrs. Cla vering. 66 Madness, aunt-madness!" cried the ex cited girl, as she threw her bonnet upon the floor, and paced quickly up and down; th cloak which had covered her dress now falling off, and revealing a rich dinner costume. am well nigh distracted, and I am come to yo for refuge." "Madness! refuge! Mabel, what can yo mean? surely you cannot have been-but, no no, it is impossible." "What cannot have been? what is impos sible?" asked Lady Trafford passionately, as s stayed her hurried walk almost forcibly. "Has Colonel Montague been at Haydon to day?" said Mrs. Clavering sternly, answering the question by another. "Gracious Heaven keep me sane! Are yo in that odious tale too-can you, dare you, my, for a time to words that have burnt into my own aunt, suspect me?" she cried passionately. "Then why are you here now, Mabel, at such an hour and in such a dress?" 66 brain. I know not what more he would have said, nor what in my desolation I might have promised; but as if the Father whom I had forgotten watched over to save me, the spring of this bracelet suddenly opened, and your face, Aunt Clavering, was before me. Oh! bless God for that, as I do," cried the heart-stricken girl, while the tears fell fast from her hitherto burning eyes. "He had taken my hand, the first time in his life he had ever dared to touch it save in courtesy; but in an instant, as if I had felt the serpent's tooth, I shook it off, and rushing from the room, resisted every message and attempt to see me; and saying I was too tired to go out, took this cloak while Edward and Clara were dressing, and, without speaking a word to any one, have come here to you-to my home. Oh that I had never left it, for I am broken-hearted!" And she laid her hot and beating head upon her pitying aunt's shoulder, and sobbed convulsively. "I will tell you," she exclaimed, raising her bare and jewelled arms to her head, and with both hands flinging from her brow the clustering chestnut ringlets which fell over it; while her eyes glared with passion, and her words poured forth in a torrent. My home is wretched; I am become an object of compassion to my very servants; I hear their whispers of pity as I pass along. All my remonstrances with Edward are useless; for before my face, as if in defiance, he continues his attentions to that girl; he rides, walks, dances with her, while I am as much forgotten as if I were not in existence; and yesterday, when, stung by his conduct almost to insanity, I insisted upon her being sent home, he dared to tell me that a wife whose constant shadow was a notorious roué was the last person to attack her husband for mere courtesies to an old friend's sister, and neeringly advised me to be silent. Oh! Aunt" Clavering, thank God for me that I am here to tell you this, for in my first frenzy I was possessed by demons; and standing as we were by the quiet lake side, He alone can tell how enviable death seemed to me then, and how near." "This is very sad, Mabel," said Mrs. Clavering; "but it does not explain why you are here now-all this happened yesterday.' "Sit down, my darling, and try to be calm," said Mrs. Clavering, as she drew her to a seat, or you will be in no fit state to return home." "Home!" screamed Mabel, springing to her feet, her large eyes blazing with rage, and every softer emotion scorched in its fire. "Home! do you mean Haydon? I will never return! Aunt Clavering, do you think I am a child, to be crushed and tortured in silence-to die, and make no struggle? No!" and she drew up her stately figure till every inch seemed instinct with scorn. "I loved him as few have power to love; for him I left my home, my father, from whom I never had a chiding look or word-all I had known from infancy. For his love every other was forgotten; and how have I been re "It did, it did; and I would have tried to forgive, and-no, I could not forget it; but to-day we were to dine at White Mead, and being tired, I dressed earlier than usual, and went into the drawing-room to rest, when to my great annoy-warded? For the first few months an idol; for ance I found Colonel Montague there, ready, by Edward's invitation, to accompany us. After a few common-place words we were silent, for I was in no mood to talk, and he did not seem inclined to do so; but in a little time the foldingdoor at the end of the conservatory opposite the drawing-room window opened gently, and Edward and Clara Talbot, thinking of course that I was dressing, came in and sat down under the creeper that shades the window. I felt when I saw them as if I had lost all power of motion, and was riveted to the spot; the eye of that horrid man was upon me, and I was marble. At last, after a long-whispered conversation, they rose, and Clara said with a laugh, "I really must go now, or we shall have poor Lady Trafford jealous again;" to which Edward answered contemptuously, "Oh, nonsense; but the picture, Clara-you promise then to give it me to-night: remember the little boudoir at White Mead, I shall wait for you there." When I heard this, I was springing forward, but Colonel Montague caught my arm, and held me quiet until they had left the conservatory; and then, forgetful of him, myself, and everything but my misery, I threw myself upon the sofa and wept; while, taking advantage of my distraction, he said-and I, in my frenzy, listened the last a despised and worthless wretch, scarcely of consequence sufficient for the hollow courtesies we pay to strangers. One by one, every word and token of the passion he swore should be eternal has ceased; day by day I have watched the love that gave life to my heart and glory to the world die out; and worse than all, ten thousand times, I have seen it given to another; and yet so warily, that no eye but mine, quickened by despair, could detect it. I have wept, and prayed, and besought in vain-he has dared and despised me. I have laughed and sung, when my heart has been breaking; I have madly tried to win back.his love through his jealousy. I have hung upon the precipice's brink, till but for your dear image I should have been engulphed, and I will play this fearful game no longer. He has scorned me: let him take heed; for as surely as I live, I will have ample reckoning for the wrong. And as for her let her pray, like the felons of old, for God's mercy; she will need it, for I have none. Love, gentleness, a woman's fear of suffering is crushed out, and I am pitiless." "Mabel! Mabel!" exclaimed her aunt, as the graceful young figure before her, dilated with passion, stood terribly erect, as if the revenge of which she spoke were tangible, and seizing it, she had grown mighty in its power. "You are surely ill -nothing but the delirium of fever could have changed you so." child; others may be unjust and cruel, but no one has the power to injure us very materially while we are true to ourselves; and I much doubt, my pet, whether in this sorrow that has overtaken you, you are yourself blameless." "Aunt," said Mabel, indignantly, “what do resisted all your cautions, all my father's wishes; you know I could have died for him, and yet you say I am not blameless." 66 "Fever!" she exclaimed with a laugh so unlike her own blithe tones that Mrs. Clavering shuddered as they rang through the room; "an hour ago it might be so, but not now-you mean? You know how I loved him, how I then my face and neck, my whole body, trembled in the livery of shame, every pulse burned as if liquid fire had taken the place of blood, and I was consuming; but now I am cold, as icy as my purpose. Feel, Aunt Clavering-there is no fever here;" and as she laid her small, fair hands upon those outstretched to clasp them, Mrs. Clavering started involuntarily, for in their stony coldness she learned the fearful agony which had so changed the speaker. Mabel saw it, and a ghastly smile gleamed upon her features as she said "They are very cold, aunt, are they not? am so all over-my very heart is frozen." I My child, my precious one," cried Mrs. Clavering, gazing in terror upon the unnatural change which misery had worked in so short a time, and suffering her tears to fall over the tiny hand she held, "this is horrible indeed; tell me what you wish, and, if I can, it shall be done." "Oh! bless you, bless you, dear aunt; then you will aid me," she cried, eagerly. "In all things right, dearest, in the performance of a wife's hardest duty; to walk in the holy path of mercy pointed out for our obedience; to exercise the virtues most difficult of all to practise-forbearance and pardon: in all these, Mabel, I will aid you." "Duty! mercy! pardon! Aunt Clavering, do not think me mad-although I have had enough to make me so; or childish—although I have been so weak as to credit a man's oaths: I am sane, and my intellects were never stronger; and I tell you that, if I live, I will revenge the wrong that has turned me from a woman to a fury. Henceforth I shall be that doubted and shameful thing, a wife without a husband, the mock and scorn of all; and for this, think you, that I will not have vengeance? Aunt Clavering, if I live, I will.” "Then, Mabel, if this is your determination why did you come to me? you well know that I can be no party to it." "Heaven help me, then, for I am friendless; but in drawing back from me, Aunt Clavering, do not think to frighten me from my purpose the more I suffer, the more forlorn I am, the greater cause for vengeance. I may die when that is accomplished; but till then, I shall live, even if you desert me; but oh! dear, dear aunt, you will not fall away now I am so desolate." And she bent her proud head like an infant upon Mrs. Clavering's hands. "Never, Mabel! my own dear child, never!" said her aunt with a sudden impulse, as she raised the drooping brow, and kissed it fondly. "You will not let me be so wronged and injured?" pleaded Mabel. "None can do so effectually but yourself, my Nor do I think you are. There needs no assurance of your love for your husband, nor any words to recall to memory my useless advice before you married him; my opinion of you both is unchanged, and I only see realized at present the evil I feared before; but all this seems cruel now, and will not help you; you have made your election, your path is fixed; and if you would be estimable here, and happy hereafter, you must walk steadily in it, and fulfil your duties." "He has wronged and despised me, perilled my very soul by his faithlessness; and I will have ample reckoning, even if I die to win it. Does he think I am so poor a thing as to pine and weep my life away, while he goes on defyingly in the course which destroys_me?" And the proud girl, stung with remembrance of all that she had suffered, paced the room hurriedly; while her aunt, who saw the uselessness of attempts to reason while her thoughts and feelings were so tempest-tossed, was silent, knowing that it would be wisest to refrain from advice or comment until the storm of passion had "battled itself to rest." She saw that its fury would soon be spent, and in the exhausted re-action she might have hope to work upon her niece's generous nature. Very deeply did she feel for the wretched young wife, not only because she had educated and known her from infancy, but because her own wedded life had been one of trial and grief; and from bitter experience she could sympathise with that sorrow which of all on earth is the heaviest to bear, and of which the world, knowing little of the merits, seldom judges truly. For a long time Mabel went on her restless and angry walk, working up her indignation to frenzy by recalling all the slights to herself, and attentions to her rival, which had drawn her from home; but at last, as her aunt had foreseen, the overwrought feelings gave way, the physical powers yielded, and with a burst of hysterical tears she threw herself upon the low couch by which Mrs. Clavering sat, and cried— "Aunt! aunt! speak to me, help me-my heart is breaking !" At this moment a horse, urged to a furious speed, passed before the lawn, then suddenly stopped at the cottage portico. Mabel started to her feet; but before Mrs. Clavering could direct the servant to refuse admission to any one, Colonel Montague hastily entered the room. He was somewhat embarrassed when he saw Mrs. Clavering; but with an eager and excited manner he went up to Mabel, exclaiming "My dear Lady Trafford, I have been so |