his triumph. Oh, believe me, Rosalie, man cannot work for himself alone! It were a low and selfish aim !"

"But he can work for humanity-ne can work for God!" said Rosalie, in a low and reverent voice.

upon the

Mark Sutherland sat with his eyes fixed ground, in deep thought. Rosalie continued

Attain a position, Mr. Sutherland-such a position as the prophetic voice in your heart foretels. Win fame! not for yourself, but for men and God! not for your own aggrandizement, but for the POWER to right the wronged, to raise the fallen, to deliver the oppressed, to redeem the evil, to speak with AUTHORITY the truth to men and before God! Labour, wait, struggle, for such a position, and, though no mother, sister, wife, or love, smile on your career, men and women will know it! God will bless it!"

Mark Sutherland still remained buried in deep and silent thought upon her words. Oh, if India had so spoken to him, so sympathized with his aspirations, so encouraged his flagging hopes and energies, what might he not have accomplished, even before this! But this child Rosalie was nothing, and yet she spoke words of high moment, and spoke them "as one having authority."

"You astonish me, Rosalie; you talk far beyond your years and sex; you really astound me."

"I wish I could convince you."

“You do, you do, my child. But, Rosalie, how is this? You must have reflected very much, for one of your tender years."

"I am not so young; I am seventeen."

"A venerable age, indeed. But, Rosalie, how is it

that you have thought so much beyond girls of your age ?"

"Have I done so ?"

"Why, assuredly-do you not know that you have? Now tell me how it is."

"Well, if it is so as you say-for I do not know and cannot judge of young people, having never had any young companions-I suppose it is because I have been always sickly, and have always led an isolated, meditative life; hearing in my secluded retreat only the loudest thunders of the distant great world of society, I have naturally thought most about its great successes, and how they were accomplished. I have watched from afar the career of living great men, and have secretly made unto myself idols like them. I have read with deep interest the lives of distinguished statesmen an heroes, particularly those who have struggled up from poverty and obscurity; that is the reason."

"Yet that is very unusual in so young and beautiful a girl. I cannot yet comprehend it-I can scarcely believe in it."

"The pleasures of childhood and girlhood were not for me there was nothing left but books, and much thought over needlework, in solitary hours. Please do not give me undue credit; it is more mortifying than blame. I must tell you how it was I thought so much of your life. Nearly two years ago, after you made such a vast sacrifice to principle-giving up wealth, station, popularity, family, friends, love, esteem, all for your ideas of duty-hero-worshipper that I was, I recognized in you the elements of which heroes are made, and"

She blushed, and suddenly stopped, conscious of the indelicacy of praising him to his face.

"Go on, dear Rosalie."

Still she remained silent and embarrassed.

"Well, Rosalie, you saw, or rather you thought you saw, in me the elements of heroism ?"

"It was very impertinent in me to presume to say so-forgive it !"

"Nay, dear child, I beg you won't take it back If you do not hope for me, who will?"

"Indeed, I do hope for your success very strongly -and more than that, I count upon it very confi dently"

"But finish what you were going to say; you saw in some one 'the elements of which heroes are made, and' "

"Oh, nothing, only I dived more deeply than ever before into my lives of great men, and reflected more than ever upon the causes that made them great, if you do not think it presumption in a girl like me to talk of reflection upon such a subject. But my mind ever had an attraction to it, and you gave that attrac tion a new and strong interest. I thought of you, and hoped that you were on the road to an honourable and beneficent distinction. I was grieved to hear that you were coming here; I would have opposed it, had I dared. Do not stay here, Mr Sutherland."

"I must fulfil my engagement with your uncle !" "My uncle will release you from it."

"Yet, dear Rosalie, I cannot leave now."

"Do not think me importunate, impertinent; I

wish you would go even now to-day."

Mark Sutherland looked up at her in surprise, but checked the answer that rose to his lips, when he saw her troubled face. Her work being now completed, she arose, and left the room.

"That not a worm is cloven in vain!

That not a worm, with vain desire,

Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire,

Or but subserves another's gain."-Tennyson.

FOR the next several days, various notes of prepa ration as for some joyful coming event, were sounded through the old hall. Servants, within and without the house, pursued their avocations with unusual alac rity. Waggons, with new furniture, arrived from a neighbouring town. In the drawing-room and parlours, Mrs. Vivian directed the operations of the upholsterers, in putting down new carpets, and hanging new curtains, mirrors, &c. On the lawn, and in the garden, Rosalie's taste presided at the trimming and

dressing of vines, shrubs, and flowers; while from one to the other Colonel Ashley flew with a gay, busy interest. They were all evidently playing the prelude to some great family festival. Mark Sutherland remained unenlightened upon the subject, until, one morning, as he walked out upon the piazza, to enjoy the early freshness of the air, he was joined by the two lads, Henry and Richard, who, seizing each a hand, eagerly inquired

"Are you going to walk out this morning, before breakfast, Mr. Sutherland ?"

A nod and smile was his answer. He was depressed, despondent; he felt that he had no part in all that was going on in that house-he felt himself a stranger and an alien. Yet, too generous and benevolent to damp the spirits of the lads by his own gloom, he smiled upon them kindly, and when they asked permission to accompany him, he inquired, gaily, how it happened that, while all were so very busy, in the house and on the grounds, they alone should be idle.

"Oh, Mrs. Vivian drives us out of the way-even Rose won't let us help her, and father threatens to lock us up if we don't keep quiet. We're driven about from post to pillar; and so we came out to walk with you. Father and the rest of them making such a fuss! just as if nobody ever got married before St. Gerald!" said Richard, contemptuously.

Another might have rebuked the boy for speaking so disrespectfully; but Mark had little of the tutor spirit in him, after all. Rosalie was right in that.

They left the piazza, crossed the lawn, and took the narrow path leading along the course of the stream