entered with a letter for Ethel, which, on opening, she found to be a few lines written by Mr. Bevan for Miss Hackett, to say she hoped Ethel would come and stay with her in as short time as she could after leaving Sally, and inclosing a letter which she had received from Laura. Ethel seized it eagerly. A letter from her sister was an unusual thing now; there was a passage expressly for Ethel. "Tell my dear sister," wrote Laura, “that I am very far from well; I feel so low and dispirited, sometimes I sit and cry for hours. George is out a great deal, and he does not cheer me when he is at home; he says I am dull and complaining, but I cannot help it. I am alone for hours in this wretched, dark little house; with the incessant sound of carts in the street, which makes my head feel so dreadfully confused, that I am obliged to lie on the sofa all day. I hope dear Ethel will never marry without thought, as I have done it is, indeed, a thing not to be entered upon lightly. I cannot bear to write more now; I feel so weak and dispirited, and like Tennyson's Marianna I can say,

'I am a-weary, a-weary! I would that I were dead!""

66

"Poor Laura!" said Ethel, as tears gathered thickly in her eyes; at least my life is not so miserable as hers. Would it be wrong to disobey papa again, and write to her and comfort her?"

The temptation was too great to be resisted, and Ethel fetched her writing-case, and again sat down to read her sister's note before answering it. There was a subdued tone about Laura's letter, which spoke of a heart softened by sorrow, and therefore Ethel felt she would be more ready to attend to words of cheering comfort, which may be gained alone from the Bible

and the consolations of religion. Until now, Ethel had hardly comprehended the full bitterness of her sister's position. She had been married little more than a year, and already her husband seemed to have forgotten the vow "to love and to cherish in sickness and in health;" and Laura! poor Laura! who never could endure being left alone, who had so few resources in herself, was for hours left on a couch of sickness, and in a dull place—alone amid a crowd, as it were. The thought much saddened Ethel's heart as she took up her pen, and in the warm language of glowing affection wrote a long letter to her sister, pointing out to her the only true means of comfort, and earnestly intreating her to make a friend of Him who is ever ready and willing to help his children in their every hour of need. With an earnest prayer that this letter might be of use, Ethel put on her walking-dress and set out to take it herself to the post. Having to pass very near the new church, she encountered the clergyman, who returned with her and took her round the building. He seemed delighted with the interest Ethel took in the work, and sent for the plan of the interior, to show her everything. Ethel ventured to ask a few particulars respecting the builder of the church, for a suspicion had arisen in her mind, of which she could not divest herself. But the clergyman afforded her little information on the point. He said he was so strictly bound to silence on the subject, he could not give her the name of the gentleman. He was a friend of his, a man of the highest Christian principle, and who, in building this church, earnestly desired to remain unknown, seeking not the praise of men, but only desiring to forward the spiritual welfare of the poor in that district. Ethel longed to ask one question :

"had he some particular interest in Sawley?" but she forbore to add anything more on the subject.

The clergyman left Hedgerow next morning, but not before Ethel's quick observation had, unknown to him, discovered the very thing he so much desired to keep secret. She was happy to find that Jonas had consulted him on his doubts about leaving the church, and that "Mr. Lurrin" had told him by no means to withdraw himself from the communion of the Church of England, but that if he found he was really gaining harm, to go to the nearest church at some miles' distance; being a better way of proceeding than entangling himself among the unhappy divisions which exist among professing Christians.

The remainder of Ethel's visit passed as pleasantly as it had begun. The mornings were spent in walking about the many pretty lanes near Sawley, and in teaching Minnie and Zeruiah, and the evenings in conversations with Jonas and Sally on religious subjects; and she was really sorry when the week was over to have to take leave. All were in distress: Sally sobbed convulsively at parting, and Deborah hid her face in her apron, while Minnie and Zeruiah cried bitterly; and, as a token of affection, the latter presented Minnie with a kitten, which, to some extent, alleviated her distress at leaving Hedgerow.

CHAPTER VI.

"Life hath passed

With me but roughly since I saw thee last."- Cowper.

"Thou reed o'er which the storm hath passed,
Thou shaken with the wind!

On one, one Friend, thy weakness cast

There is but one to bind."-MRS. HEMANS.

"To dwell in peace, with home affections bound,
To know the sweetness of a mother's voice,
To feel the spirit of her love around,
And in the blessing of her eye rejoice

No more!"

IDEM.

ETHEL returned to Carysford, feeling in better spirits for the change of air, and looking forward with pleasure to a week to be spent with Miss Hackett. There was a letter awaiting her from Ada, written in the highest spirits. Her bridal day approached, and no fears of the future marred her happiness as she alluded to it, and gave Ethel a description of the preparations for her marriage, and of the delight she should have in looking forward to receiving her friend in her new home.

All this was very cheering to Ethel, but there was some mystery still about Raymond which puzzled her. Ada never mentioned him; but she checked the thought which oppressed her of his forgetfulness, and regained that peaceful serenity of mind of which she

had enjoyed so much during the last few months. The week spent with Miss Hackett passed away all too quickly, and the stern realities of home life pressed upon her once more. Miss Hackett entreated her not

to return home again, but Ethel felt that it was her duty to accede to her father's wishes; and so long as he desired her to remain at home it was right it should be so, however irksome it might be.

Mrs. Woodville received Ethel, as she expected, with great coldness. She was indignant at her for having visited Sally without consulting her, and angry because there was nothing else to find fault about, Ethel had taken such good care to have all things in the exact order her step-mother liked. But the fortnight's quiet and enjoyment, though they had been beneficial to Ethel's health, had tended somewhat to throw her off her guard, and, consequently, her patient endurance failed her for the first time. Mrs. Woodville, after venting her indignation on Ethel, and receiving no reply, indignantly turned, and seizing from Minnie's hands her little kitten, she gave it to the servant, and ordered her to destroy it instantly; she would allow no cats in her house. Ethel's cheek glowed with suppressed anger, and her eyes almost flashed, when she saw Mrs. Woodville's proceeding, and heard her darling little sister's piteous cry, "Oh, Ethy! my pussy! my pussy! Zerry's little pussy! What must I do? My dear, dear pussy! Save it, Ethy, for me!" and Minnie clung to her dress in agony, tears streaming down her little face.

Ethel paused a second, she felt unable to speak at all, her indignation so deprived her of utterance.

"I think I can answer for Minnie not troubling you with her kitten, if you will allow her to keep it," said Ethel, as calmly as she could.