poor Vera's breast. I had enough to do to control my own. I was first conscious of insane purposes to strangle Miss Alicia, who went on chirping about the ball. "Don't you think so, my dear?" to Veronica. "Mr. Lomax, won't you put up your lame foot upon this seat?" "Mary, my dear, it was a pity we came away before your dance with Captain Collinson. Is he staying at Vere Park? I knew his poor mother a great many years ago."

Cousin Lomax growled at her. I sat and thought that I should like to choke her; and I hope Veronica was too pre-occupied to hear her. At any rate, Miss Alicia was neither checked nor offended. She went on talking without any answer.

It came on to rain. James and the postillions had taken a little too much drink. We stuck fast in a rut in a cross-road. Cousin Lomax threw open the carriage door and jumped out, with his thin boots and his incipient gout, into the cold. His Virginian temper was excited. He levelled imprecations at the servants-demanded how they dared to drive in that way when they were driving ladies-put his own shoulder to the wheel, started the carriage by the force of his excitement-jumped back into his place and shut the door with a bang which broke the handle, and he had to hold it all the rest of the way home.

Day broke just as we were entering the grounds at Castleton. As its first rays fell upon my cousin's face, I saw she had been sitting smiling in the dark, with the fixed look she had worn when listening in the cloak-room. The coral colored lining of her hood which had been becoming to her at night, now made her face look ghastly. A more miserable set'than we were never got out of a carriage by daylight, limp, draggled, and dissatisfied, on their return from a ball.

CHAPTER IX.

"There is a change-and I am poor;
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
A fountain at my fond heart's door,
Whose only business was to flow-
And flow it did, not taking heed
Of its own bounty or my need.”

WORDSWORTH.

REFRESHMENTS had been spread out for us, and Miss Alicia fancied she was hungry. We went with her into the diningroom. She sat down at the table, begging us to eat, but I had a choking in my throat, as if it would be impossible ever to eat again. Veronica stood over the fire. It was the chilly hour after dawn, and her dress was very wet from rain, which had found its way into the carriage. I poured out a glass of wine, and gave it to her. She tried to drink it, but the rising tears choked her, and she sat it down. She commanded herself sufficiently, however, to say with a steady voice, "I am very tired. I think I shall go to bed. Good night. Forgive me for leaving you, Miss Alicia.”

She took a candle from the table, and left the room. Cousin Lomax looked at Miss Alicia (eating sardines) with great disgust, and moved away, desiring me, before I went to bed, to come into his library.

We were all bent on deceiving Miss Alicia, and yet in the midst of our wretchedness, irritation at her placid unconsciousness was the most prominent feeling of us all. When she had finished her supper she wiped her mouth and got up from table, but still she seemed disposed to chat about the ball.

I had no patience left for further conversation, and telling her abruptly that cousin Lomax wanted me in the library, I broke up the half hour of gossip which was the poor old lady's delight, and hurried her unwillingly to her own chamber.

I found cousin Lomax suffering agonies from his attack of gout. He had called up the housekeeper, who was ministering to him, but he sent her away when I came in, and told me to stand before him, and repeat, word for word, "what that fool had been saying." He had a bundle of Max's letters in his hand, and had been looking over those of latest date, while his foot was swathed by Mrs. Mayhew. I told him, word for word, what Captain Collinson had said. "And you," said he, looking me in the face, "have you heard a word from your brother about Lady Ellen MacIntyre?"

"No sir, Max writes so seldom ".

"Yes-hang it," broke out cousin Lomax. "And I write so seldom I can't do it. It isn't in me. I never knew a letterwriting Virginian. And it's God's providence they don't write, for I never got a letter from Virginia in my life that didn't tell me something disagreeable. And so your brother makes so sure of Castleton as to bid it for a wife? He had better remember that I must provide for my niece, and that I will leave no unmarried woman my Virginian property."

"Cousin Lomax," I said, "I don't think that what escaped Captain Collinson ought to prejudice you against Max. What he repeated was mere gossip. I know Max is quite incapable

of speculating upon your promise about Castleton. Max was never mercenary, and has always showed you affectionate consideration."

A twinge of pain convulsed cousin Lomax's face; when it had passed, he answered bitterly, "I am not speaking of any hopes he may have built on his expectation of my property. Old fellows must expect to have young ones looking out after their own chances. I am not quarrelling with human nature. But he had better make quite sure that I shall leave him this estate before he buys a wife with it. You will write to-morrow, and tell him this, Moll Mandeville. I shall write the same thing to another quarter. You will tell him that his sucession to the property depends on my good will-that I have another child of my adoption to provide for-nearer to me in blood-a girl who has not her rival for goodness or for beauty-that she has twined herself about my rough old heart, and I won't have him make her unhappy. I wished to see them married, and to leave my property to both of them, but if he plays her false, be hanged if he shall have one shilling. I shall write your to father to that effect, and you may tell him so."

وو

We do not know this news is true, sir-and it was such a childish affair between Veronica and Max, that perhaps I hesitated, for I knew my supposition could be hardly true, "perhaps Veronica may not care for him."

"Ha!" said cousin Lomax, "do you know it to be so?” "No sir, I know nothing. Veronica never speaks to me of Max. But I know she does not consider herself engaged to him.” The old man mused a moment, and then said, striking his hand upon the arm of his chair, "I have set my heart upon that match. But I would not make her unhappy. She must judge him for herself. Accept him or reject him as she likes-but he

will not have Castleton except he wins her for his wife. Tell him that from me."

I bid him good night. He called me back to get him the Peerage, and turn to the De Brousse family. She was two years older than Max, this Lady Ellen MacIntyre.

The feeble rays of a November sun were struggling in at the East windows, when I went up to my chamber. As I passed that of Veronica, her door softly opened. She came out still in her ball-dress-still in her cloak and hood. Her floating robes and satin feet contrasted strangely with her face. She had been weeping bitterly.

"Mary," said she, coming out upon the landing, and taking me by the arm, "you have been with cousin Lomax. Is he angry with Max? What did he say to you?"

"Compose yourself, dear Vera. He did not tell me he was angry with Max. He is going to write to him and ascertain if this report be true."

"And sacrifice me," said Veronica passionately.

"How sacrifice you, Vera?"

"Sacrifice my pride," she said, "by letting him suppose I think of his old childish fancy. Mary, don't you know if he remembered it he would have been here long ago? A small excuse has mighty weight unless it is balanced by the inclination. A woman needs no better test of the feelings entertained for her. I have known it—I have known, long ago, that Max could have got leave of absence if if he had wanted to see his family. He cared more for his hunting in Ireland-more for his friends in the mess-room-more even for the novelty of his new military life-more for the pleasure-trip he took to the Lakes of Killarney. Max is not to be blamed for this. Max, as I have lately felt, is very young. He needed, perhaps, to have his manhood