further information, he dismissed the subject with a stern injunction that she would never return to it. Nothing was so calculated to excite his anger as the slightest reference to the previous history of Euphemia. The mystery had now something tangible in it. From the scattered, imperfect reminiscences of the girl, her parents, or friends, were persons, it was clear, of consequence and standing in some part of the world. The motive she could not possibly fathom, which rendered necessary a policy so tortuous, and evidently so cruel and unjust, but the proximate consequences to Euphemia interested Matilda far more than those which were past. Whilst thus distracted with a thousand painful surmises, the visitor entered whose approach she had heard. It was one always welcome, and never more so than at this moment.

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Fred, you have come most opportunely. Sit down. I want to speak to you seriously-to take your advice on a matter in which I am deeply interested. But promise me first that what I am about to say you will never divulge. That condition I must exact before I go further. It involves affairs of deep and abiding importance to my family and myself; and I assure you, Fred., that you are the only being in the world to whom I would unreservedly communicate my sentiments-my fears, my suspicions, on this subject."

"Fears and suspicions! my dear Matilda. What can all this mean? Some treason hatching in this

gloomy house? Come, out with it! You wish me to turn conspirator and join the plot. Be it so. Give me the cloak and the dagger. As the man in the play says, "I dare do all that"A truce to raillery, Fred. There is a time for all things. I was never in a less jesting mood."

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My sweet pet! I see something unusual has moved you. Rely on my secrecy-on my honour. Shall I swear ?"

"No-only promise; promise solemnly."

"I do-solemnly, sacredly promise to keep inviolate the pledge until you release me from it!"

"Enough-listen!

Some eight or nine years

back my father brought from London a female child, then very young, to which he said he had become attached in consequence of its superior beauty and symmetry. The unfeeling parents of this child (so my father said) wished to sell it, and fearing that it might fall into worse hands, he became the purchaser."

"Bought it in London? You amaze me !"

"No, no-you misunderstand me. My father's ship, instead of coming to Liverpool as usual, proceeded to London. The child was brought from beyond the seas-where, I never could learn. My poor mother, who was slightly ill at the time, grew sensibly worse after this child entered our house, and died suddenly, to our inexpressible grief, soon after I came home for the Christmas vacation. That child is still with us-in this house at the

present moment. My father, from some cause for which I cannot account, has contracted a strong, insurmountable antipathy to her, and is going to take her to sea with him in a day or two."

"Well, my love ?"

"I have watched this child carefully for years past. Although she has been doomed to the drudgery of the scullery and the kitchen, there is something about her so superior that she cannot fail to attract affection and esteem. I have become strongly attached to her. Her disposition is most amiable and kind, and nothing would distress me more than to hear of any wrong done to her." "You mean Euphemia ?"

"Yes! Have you ever seen her ?"

"Never but once. Often as I have been here, one opportunity only has been afforded me of seeing her but it was enough. By the merest chance I saw the features-I heard the name. I shall never forget either. They are associated in my memory with a circumstance which I have often thought of mentioning to you, but have always shrunk from doing so through fear of giving pain. I made some passing inquiry from your brother about her, but he evaded a direct reply. Your sister Bessie snarled at me when I once alluded to the girl, and you, my dear Matilda, either did not or would not understand a hint which I once threw out on the subject."

"I really don't remember, Fred. ago p❞

How long

"Some two or three years."

"It has passed from my memory. I have no recollection of it."

"I am interested in the girl, more than you imagine, and it came about mysteriously; but believe me, my dear Matilda, that the warm and disinterested sympathy you have shown on her hehalf, has only served to make me appreciate more highly your noble nature.

Nonsense, Fred! But tell me-how are you interested in Euphemia ?"

"I cannot, dare not tell you; but some day you shall know all.

"Nay, this is unkind.

now-on the instant.

Do, Fred. Gratify me Come, dear Fred, I must

insist on being told," continued she, coaxingly, laying her hand in the most bewitching manner imaginable upon her lover's shoulder, in hopes of eliciting the required information. He kissed her warmly, passionately, and whispered a tale in her ear which startled the young lady and crimsoned her cheek with blushes.

He saw her agitation and hastened to dismiss the subject. "How is poor Tom progressing ?"

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Extremely well, thank you. He will be able to leave his room in the course of a day or two."

"I have news for you, Matilda. It will surprise you, I know. But don't let it go farther—at least don't connect me with the scandal-your sister has got a lover at last!"

"You are always joking, Fred."

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'Fact, I assure you. I was walking, the other evening, with a friend, near the place where the Ranelagh Gardens formerly stood, when I saw Bess in full sail with a fine spark who was pouring his flattery into her ear so fast and fluently that she could see or hear no one else. Who is that fellow

with Miss Carlos ?' asked my friend. Nay, I know not,' said I. 'Why,-curse his impudence, ha! ha! ha! I saw him early the other morning hanging out a saddle and a pair of spurs at the shop door of Stirrup in Castle-ditch!' was my friend's immediate rejoinder. And we laughed heartily. Ha! ha! ha!"

"I think your friend is mistaken, Fred. A Scotch gentleman named Laurel, who possesses considerable landed estates in the north, served my father materially the other night, and infinitely to his annoyance declared his attachment to my sister, when he called here one morning recently. But he is a man of property and of family-so at least Elizabeth says."

"I never saw the cavalier before, but, nevertheless I suspect he makes saddles instead of mounting them. But we'll look out, and let you know the result. I should like Bess to have a husband; but then I should wish him to be a man of some mark. The poor girl must not, in a fitof desperation, throw herself away."

"The person to whom you refer-if it be the same as I presume it is-seems a respectable man, and as far as manners and appearance go, a gentleman.