She turned her spirited steed, unwilling to leave its comrades, towards the gate of the little garden, and giving the bridle to Mary's brother, she alighted and entered the cottage, followed by the grateful girl.

"We shall ride slowly on, if this laggard pace is not disgreeable to you, Constance," said Sydney, as they again moved forward, "it will give our horses a rest, and allow time for Lucy to rejoin us."

A rising ground was now before them, which they leisurely ascended. A scene of matchless beauty burst upon them as they reached its summit. A richly wooded valley stretched before them, bounded by undulating hills, whose soft outline almost blended with the horizon. Upon the highest peak of a craggy height that rose abruptly from the banks of a little river, near the entrance of the valley, stood the ancient ruin of Hazlewood Abbey, and the scattered cottages of the hamlet to which it gave its name, lay in picturesque groups around its base.

"What a lovely scene," exclaimed Constance, after a pause of silent admiration.

"It is indeed," said Sydney, "it is hard, while enjoying such scenes as these, to repress the wish that I might spend my life amongst them."

"And shall you not do so," enquired Constance, turning suddenly with an expression of surprise, towards her cousin. 66 Why should you leave these beautiful valleys, Sydney, if you so dearly love them ?"

"I must not claim the sympathy due to an exile's fate," replied Sydney, smiling, "my sentence of banishment does not send me to foreign lands, but even the dark alleys and smoky atmosphere of London, require the utmost exercise of my philosophy to make me contented and tolerably cheerful during my abode within the sphere of their influence."

"But why, then, do you go to London?" enquired Constance. "You have no seat in Parliament-you are not obliged to leave the country ?"

"I have been educated for the profession of the law," replied Sydney, "and no member of Parliament has

been more closely confined by his duties to the House of Peers or Commons, then have I within the precincts of Temple Bar."

"And you dislike your profession, do you?" enquired Constance.

"The study of law as a science," replied Sydney, "is not devoid of interest, but the daily routine of my professional employments has been dry and uninteresting in the extreme. The contrast, too, which my sombre chambers presented to the sunny plains of Italy, or the smiling fields of my native home, has not been such as to form in my mind the most pleasing associations."

"Have you spent much of your life in Italy ?" enquired Constance, "I almost envy even your remembrances of that poetic land."

'Italy was our home," replied her cousin, "during our residence abroad, though we visited many parts of the Continent, but from such excursions we ever returned with delight to our beautiful Palazzo near Naples."

"Did Lucy reside with you in Italy?" said Constance.

"For about a year before we left it she did," replied Sydney. "Lady Herbert was a very dear friend of my mother's, at whose solicitation she came to Naples with her two daughters soon after we had fixed our residence there. My brother's marriage to Isabella, to whom he had been engaged almost from childhood, took place about a year after their arrival at Naples; and at the close of the following summer, Lady Herbert, whose health had for some months been declining, died. Lucy then came to live with us, and has done so ever since."

As Sydney finished speaking, they arrived at a sudden turn of the road, which was now winding round the base of the hills that embosomed the quiet valley, and as they did so, their horses came in such close contact with a carriage that was rapidly approaching from the other side, that the postilion in haste drew in his reins, and Sydney at the same moment stopping his own and Constance's horse, both parties remained inmoveable within a few paces of each other.

The rapid glance of Constance discovered that the carriage which they had thus unexpectedly encountered, contained a young and very lovely woman, and a noble looking man about thirty. She marked, too, that the sweet countenance of the lady wore an expression of deep melancholy, and that the striking beauty of her companion's features, was marred by the mingled haughtiness and gloom that clouded his lofty brow.

Hardly had she made these observations, when the sudden stroke with which Sydney urged forward her horse, and which would have unseated a less skilful rider, attracted her attention to him, and his flushed cheek, and the unwonted fire that flashed from his dark eyes, redoubled the surprise which a brusquerie so foreign to his usual manner had already awakened.

"Who are those, Sydney?" she enquired, when the ascent of the steep declivity, on the brow of which stood the ruin of Hazlewood, caused a relaxation of their horses' speed.

"Lord and Lady Granville," replied her cousin, without turning towards her, and in a tone that did not invite the farther enquiries which she would gladly have made.

They rode on in silence till they reached the arched gateway of the ruined Abbey, and then Sydney fastened her horse's bridle to an iron ring in the wall, and assisted her to dismount with a gentleness of manner, which seemed to ask forgiveness of his former abruptness.

The transient emotion, which had only been one of surprise, had nearly passed away from the mind of Constance, and throwing herself with an expression of enjoyment on the velvet turf, upon which Sydney had spread a cloak for her accommodation, she entered upon a subject deeply interesting to both the Italian school of painting, and was engrossed in discussing with him the merits of Raphael, Titian, and Correggio, when Lucy appeared.

"How rapidly you must have ridden," said she, as lightly springing from her seat, she took her place on the grass by the side of Constance;" I remained but a few minutes with

We shall call, and enquire how she is, as we return."

66

"If you feel rested, I fear we must direct our course homeward now," said Sydney, looking at his watch, "for we have only time comfortably to accomplish our excursion before dinner." Oh, I am not tired," said Lucy, immediately rising, with an animation that proved the truth of her words; "but you, dear Constance," she continued, turning kindly towards her companion," I fear this ride has been too much for you-you look pale and weary."

"The exercise will revive me,' replied Constance, as she too, rose"for it is not riding which has wearied me."

Sydney assisted her to mount her somewhat restless horse-Lucy looked at her for a moment, with an expression of tender sympathy, then turning to the beautiful creature, that bent its graceful neck to receive its mistress's caresses, she was already in her saddle, when Sydney advanced to offer his aid—and leisurely descending the steep side of the hill, the party began their homeward route.

Upon that evening, Gertrude retired as usual, to her boudoir immediately after coffee. She just glanced at Constance, as she left the room, but did not ask her to accompany her, nor did Constance observe that glance, for she was deeply engaged with Sydney, in looking over a portfolio containing views of Italian scenery, and in listening to his animated descriptions of the various lovely spots they depicted. have attempted to copy a view of the Lake of Como," said she, as Sydney placed a beautiful landscape before

"I

her" but I do not know whether mine is correct-I must compare it with this, and you shall point out its defects."

She hastened to her boudoir, and selecting from a portfolio of landscapes in water-colours, the one she sought-returned in a few moments with it to the drawing-room, and placed it in Sydney's hands.

His delighted admiration, perhaps influenced her as much as his intreaties, to bring the portfolio, which contained her finished paintings, and aided her in bearing with a philosophy, that might not otherwise so well have stood the test, the short but pointed criticisms that occasionally mingled with his remarks.

From this time Constance devoted herself with renewed enthusiasm to the employment of her pencil.

A small turret chamber lighted by a cupola, in a remote part of the castle, was devoted to her use, and here she spent her mornings, in copying, under Sydney's directions, some beautiful works of the ancient masters, which he had brought from Italy.

Under his instructions, she daily improved in boldness, and accuracy of outline, while retaining all the delicacy and truth of colouring, which had before formed the peculiar charm of her paintings.

The afternoons were generally spent by them, accompanied by Lucy, in riding excursions, to various lovely scenes in the neighbourhood of Delamere Castle; and the animated conversations that enlivened these rides, were often filled with descriptions of the pictured scenes, which had just been the objects of their contemplation —or with some narration of events, which those scenes had recalled.

Christmas now drew very near, and the grief which had been in part dispelled by the charm of the present pursuits and enjoyments, was recalled by the return of a season so fraught with sweet yet sad remembrance.

One morning about this time, a letter was brought to her, bearing the post-mark of the village near Bolton Rectory. It was from her maternal friend Mrs Stanley, and it breathed the same affectionate solici

tude for her welfare; the same tender and faithful love of which from infancy she knew herself to have been the object. Coming at such a season it awakened feelings too powerful for control, and she hastened to her room to give vent in solitude to the grief that was thus recalled with renewed poignancy.

Throwing herself upon a low couch before the blazing hearth, she wept bitterly, while visions of her childhood, of her lost father, and of the friends who were associated with all her early recollections, arose before her with the vividness of present reality. The faithful Oscar, when she entered the room, had been asleep on the hearth rug. He raised his head, and moaned in sympathy with his mistress's distress, then coming towards her, he put his rough paw upon her hand, and turned upon her such a gaze of mute affection as soothed, while it touched her heart. She fondly returned his caresses for a few moments, then rising, wiped away her tears, and placing herself before her writing table, sought to relieve her overcharged feelings by expressing them to her friend.

Oscar looked after her with an expression of some anxiety in his honest face, then, satisfied apparently with the result of his observations, quietly resigned himself again to repose. She spoke ere she had closed her letter, of the relatives amongst whom her lot was now cast, in terms well calculated to satisfy the maternal anxiety of Mrs Stanley, and concluded with messages of affectionate remembrance to those who had once been the pastoral charge of her beloved father-especially to those amongst them whose long and faithful attachment to his family would make this a season of peculiarly sorrowful recollection.

With a sigh of mingled sadness and relief, Constance closed her writingdesk, and looking at her watch she found that it was an hour past the time at which she was accustomed to receive Sydney's instructions, and hastened to the turret.

She found him engaged in preparing the canvas for a new painting that she was about to commence.

"May I hope for pardon?" said she as she entered, "or has my want of punctuality tried your patience quite beyond endurance?"

"The experiment might be dangerous were you to try the limit of my philosophy," replied Sydney smiling; but suddenly changing his tone, as he raised his eyes to the pale cheek of Constance, and marked the unwonted cloud upon her brow, "But you are not well, Constance, you must not paint today."

"It will do me good," said Constance sadly, "to engage in anything that may draw my thoughts from the past."

She took her usual place before her easel, and for a few moments they both were silent. When Sydney again spoke, it was only to direct her pencil, but his tone expressed the tenderest sympathy, and even while bending over her palette, Constance felt that he was regarding her with the deepest in

terest.

Perhaps the consciousness of this aided in banishing the sad thoughts that had oppressed her; for in their usual excursion that afternoon, her smile was almost as bright and the sweet tone of her voice as joyous as

ever.

Christmas day was ushered in by a morning of cloudless beauty.

As Constance sat near her window gazing on the calm lake, on whose bosom were mirrored the leafless branches of the trees that bent over it, and the azure depths of a sky that seemed a meet emblem of " the peace on earth" which heralded the glad advent of the Redeemer of the world, the painful thoughts which had saddened her spirit at her first awakening, passed away, and sweet memories of the past, blended with grateful consciousness of present blessings and bright hopes for the future, diffused their soothing influence over her mind.

She thought of her father, she could bear to think of him now, and her fancy drew bright pictures of the home of immortal peace where his spirit now rejoiced; but beautiful as were her mind's imaginings of the Paradise of God, that Saviour was forgotten who is the 66 Light thereof" without

whose presence all its glories would be cold and unsatisfying to the white robed throng whom He has ransomed with his blood-for Constance had never felt that, as a sinner, she was lost to all eternity; and, therefore, she knew not the deep joy of being "saved in the Lord with an everlasting salvation," and loved not Him of whose love she felt no need.

She was aroused at last from her reverie, by the sweet voices of the village children, singing their Christmas carol in front of the castle. When they paused she distinguished Mrs Bouverie's soft tones addressing them, and hastened to join her.

She found her, with Lucy, standing under the sparkling branches of some old linden trees, near the castlehall.

The long joyous group of children was collected round her, and she was speaking to them of Him who, on that morning, had been born a babe in Bethlehem.

She did not stop when Constance approached her, but affectionately pressing her hand, retained it in hers while she continued speaking.

Constance listened. The words that she heard were not strange to her ear, for she had often heard from her father and from the beloved friends of her childhood, of a Saviour's love; but as she watched the eloquent countenance of Mrs Bouverie, and marked the deepening colour on her cheek, the beaming eyes that told how truly "she spoke from the abundance of a heart" filled with the peace of God, overflowing with the love of Him who had done "great things for her, whereof she was glad,” the question awoke with startling power in her mind, "Why is Isabella so personally affected by those things which to me are but as tones of distant music?"

When Mrs Bouverie had dismissed the children, to receive from the house-keeper their Christmas buns, she turned to Constance, and affectionately saluting her with the greetings of the day, they together entered the castle.

The cheerful aspect of the breakfast-room, which was tastefully adorned