She did not love her lover because of his intellectshe had long felt that. None ever truly loved who did not quickly shrink from the blasphemy of such a definition. And now the last stone of the altar where she had worshipped intellect was fallen, and she wished herself a higher, better nature to offer him; but not of mind-of soul.-She had never cared for herself as she did then, or wished more earnestly that she were better worth.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE two ladies spent several days at Millthorpe Grange without any incident of note occurring. Some other guests arrived:-Mrs. Lumsden, who recalled to Georgy her long former visit at the same house, and how different all things were to her then; -one or two gentlemen, whose names and attributes are of no consequence here;-and then Mrs. Everett, the deepest gloom of whose widowhood was held to be passed.

The children had run home first, on the afternoon when she arrived. They were carrying baskets of flowers for the drawing-room and the staircase, and the ladies were following more slowly. "Mrs. Everett is come, mamma," was announced in the hall. The drawing room window, which was level with the terrace, was open, and Constance was sitting in the window on a low stool; some flowers were tumbled upon her knee, and a heap of them were lying on the little table just above her head. The bright sun was pouring over her, her lustreless black gown, and the flowers; the thick rolls of her fair hair, so like

that of Titian's ladies, was golden in the sunlight, and the picture would have been almost too bright without her black robes. The Afghan's praise of a young Englishman was fit for her, too: "If she were to lie down in the shade, there would be no shadow there!"

"Dear Margaret! I am so glad to be here at last : everything is lovely, and I was never sure that it was summer till I came."

"Why it is late on in the year, to be only just aware of it."

"It is so hot and glaring by the seaside, and there is never a tree to be seen."

"I thought you would like it."

"So I did once, but I never wish to behold it again: I went there for my health, and I know that I should have had softening of the brain if I had stayed," and she pushed up her open white sleeves, and clasped her white arms above her head.

She was restless and excited all that day, and cut short her friend Margaret whenever she mentioned any member of the Stanley family; whilst Mrs. Lewis, on her part, was rather beginning to wonder what her friendship with the Stanleys and the visible adoration of Sir Hugh would bring forth.

"Georgy," said Mrs. Everett, next morning, "come and sit on the terrace and tell me all the news-I am so glad to see you again; " and her pleasant beaming

smile corroborated the words.-"Is any one else coming here?"

"Mr. Erskine, in a day or two-no one else that I know of."

"James Erskine-Mr. Erskine coming!"-she said slowly, looking into the distance as if she was thinking of something else. "I am so bored by all these people, I wish Mrs. Lumsden and everybody was gone: what a tiresome woman she is!"

"Rather: but she cannot do us any harm," said Georgy, quietly.

"If there is an odious thing, it is an Englishwoman who does French: I believe that she has been to Paris once for a week, and she behaves as if all other lands were strange to her. How pleasant it is here!-one is always glad of summer; but I have never been so glad before, perhaps because it is all that I have to rejoice over."

"Mrs. Everett, I do not think that."

"Oh, Georgy, how small and narrow life is compared to what one dreamt it once: do you remember that bit in Petrarch ?

'Conosciuto il mondo

Non cresce, anzi si scema, ed assai più vasto
L'etra sonante, e l'alma terra, e il mare

Al fanciullin, che non al saggio appare.'

That is true," she said, in her sweet voice, which, when she spoke gravely and slowly, had a way of

vibrating in its fluency, as if she were struggling with some deep feeling.

"Yes, that is true to us all sometimes; but now, the world will surely have something else to offer you: you cannot be tired of it yet-why do you not go to Italy?"

"I used to long to do so once; but now I am totally indifferent. I think sometimes of the man who yearned after Italy, saying that he was avide de pierres taillées,' and was soon glad to return to the quiet of Nature. They say that love is a delusion; but friendship-so little account is taken of that no one even thinks of railing at it."

But, Mrs. Everett, you have many friends."

Very few. I have nothing nearer, and perhaps never shall have: I have very few friends, Georgy. -Have you heard any music lately?"

"None; I wish you would play now." "I will, for it will be something to do."

They went in, and she played a little while, and then began to talk again: "How strange it is to look at any one soberly with the eyes of the flesh, when once upon a time you have loved him."

Georgy laughed at the solemn expression of such a disenchantment. "Take care you do not tempt the whole world to go mad for you!" she answered.

"Georgy, play you to be always kept from

M