СНАР. ХІ. DARLISTON. SHOPPING AT TUDFIELD, AND LUNCH WITH THE AINSLIES. The morrow came, and with it a chaise from the Silver Swan to take me to Tudfield. I had shopping to do, and had promised to call for Helen, who was to be at Mrs. Thomason's, and take her with me to choose certain millinery affairs from the shop of Messrs. Smith and Mullins. Moreover, I had made up my mind, weather permitting, to proceed on foot to visit my newly-discovered relation, Mrs. Ainslie; having ascertained that her residence, Cedar Lawn, was within a mile of the town. Strange feelings came over me, when I found myself in Mrs. Thomason's drawing-room. I had not been in a ladies' school since I left Madame Martinette's. The room was not a handsome one, neither could it be called shabby, but there was an appearance of every article being imposingly set out, and each conscious of an awful gentility. Chairs and framed drawings alike seemed to claim to be looked at, not touched. A chill came over me, as though the ghost of past restraints had risen-restraints I ever look back to with intense repugnance. Then rushed to my heart the glad feeling of escape to a warmer climate, the genial atmosphere of my husband's kindly shelter. Oh! the difference of feeling responsible for my actions, my movements, my looks even, to Madame Martinette and to him! I tried regarding matters in a different light. I thought, What if I were in Mrs. Thomason's case? and the time was when I should have been very glad, had I the means of purchasing her school. The flourishing large-patterned carpet was not one I should have chosen, but I might have been glad to have it at secondhand, to save expense; and very likely such motives ruled her purchases also. I would not have had that staring paper ornament in the grate though; and however proud I might be of my pupils' proficiency, I would not set out their little works in such bazaar style. The best honour of a house is surely that it is a habitation for human beings, and whatever therein tends to give it the appearance of pretension to our admiration rather than our reasonable comfort, is an affront to humanity. There now, that sentence has eased my mind. Mrs. Thomason was a very different person to Madame Martinette; but something acid in her physiognomy, and a degree of curiosity she displayed, did not tend to inspire me with favourable feeling. I think, though, I might have left in better humour with her establishment, if Helen had not entered the room with such an expression over her, as put me out of patience to witness. It was not pride, it was not dejection, but a sort of suppression of nature which made me long to shake her. Her eyes looked dull and heavy, her mouth rigid; she was not pretty one bit. Accosting me with grave politeness, she expressed regret that she had kept me waiting, and accepted my kiss as if she-I will not say did not want it, but— did not expect it. Can it be that that little acid woman has such influence over brave Helen Dalziel ? When we I suppose, though the case is so differen, something of the feeling I had towards Madame Martinette controls her. had quitted the house, her countenance relaxed into a more natural aspect; but we were at least two streets off before I could fairly recognize her. I longed to bring her to account for her changed aspect; but as she was evidently preoccupied with the subject of her intended purchases, I thought it better to defer it to a more suitable opportunity. Moreover, I sympathized with her. Laying out five pounds to the best advantage was a matter worth consideration to a young girl whose wardrobe was in no better condition than Helen's. "I do not think I can afford a silk dress," she said; we were looking at some neat striped silks in the shop window. "That is a nice one at fifty shillings; but then there is the making. I must have a best bonnet, and I ought to reserve a sovereign for boots and gloves." I wished Helen to have a silk dress. I fan cied that a consciousness of being well and becomingly dressed would tend to make her feel brighter, as well as look to more advantage in society. She must, however, have a dress Y not only fitted to present herself in before any friends I might ask to meet her at Fairclough, but also to serve for Sunday wear. The first shower after church service might render poor Helen shabby for the season, if we selected the pretty silk; so I concurred with her that something else must be chosen. I was desirous of seeing that Helen could exercise taste as well as prudence in selecting; so held back from offering an opinion on the materials displayed in the shop, until she had remarked upon them. One, a fine woollen, relieved by some satin stripes, attracted her more than once. She looked from it to me enquiringly. I smiled. "Do you think," she said softly, "that I could venture to wear green? Is it not only suitable to fair persons?" "I fancy that entirely depends on the tint. That shade would suit you very well I think." "It looks good," she said, still keeping her eyes on my face to watch for my approval; " and I think either my light shawl or my brown velvet mantle would go well with it?" "And it is really a very pretty dress: I like it," I responded. So the important matter was settled, and after purchasing a neat white bonnet, and some other small articles, Helen was able to leave the shop in a comfortable frame of mind. Her dress was to be made by the Monday following, and she had ample residue in her purse to pay for it, and to make an investment in boots. As in a reflective tone, she remarked that she should have two-and-ninepence left, the thought came to my mind, "Suppose it is true that Mr. Wainwright's possessions are worth over fifty thousand pounds, and Helen is to be his heiress?" and so the next thing was that I enquired after the old squire. Helen replied that he was quite well, and had gone to Marsham fair. "He will dine with 80 I had told her some of the chief incidents of my mother's and my own fate, and was listening to her account of the manner in which her marriage was brought about, when we were interrupted by the announcement of lunch. "Now, my dear cousin," concluded Mrs. Ainslie, "I will tell you the rest some other time; but here at all events I am, married, and At least with a goodly set of olive branches. we-Mr. Ainslie and I-agree that they are goodly. My sons are absent, but my girls you shall see forthwith. Come and have some lunch." The Two young ladies, Harriet and Alice, were introduced to me in the dining room. latter, who appeared about fifteen years old, I perceived bore much resemblance to her mother, although altogether on a smaller scale. "Have they not come in?" questioned my hostess. "Yes, mamma," Harriet answered, “just this minute. Laura is taking off her bonnet, and uncle is still in the garden talking to Thomas; he will be in, I suppose, directly." Laura came; rather a delicate-looking girl, with large grey eyes, and a graceful figure. She struck me most of the three at first; perhaps because she was under some pleasurable excite ment. "Oh, mamma," she said, after the introduction was over; "it's arranged so nicely." Mrs. Ainslie turned to me, and enquired if I were not going to the archery meeting. I said I had some vague intentions. I understood I could take my pony along the private road through Cardington Park, and see what went forward. "That is what we purpose," said Mrs. Ainslie. We shall make up a little party, and you will join us, I hope." Mr. Hawkins," she added, "I am going now to visit Mrs. Ainslie, and, unless she is from home, may stay some while. Shall you be able to return at four o'clock ?" "I am afraid not, as I put off my French lesson to go shopping." "Have your tea with me. Lance shall watch for Mr. Wainwright, and you can go home together." "Oh! thank you, I should like it very much. Little Wilcox is to call at Mrs. Thomason's for some of my books and parcels, and I can send word by him to Nanny, not to expect me." The weather was pleasant, and so was the way from Tudfield to Cedar Lawn; where, in an apartment much more to my taste than Mrs. Thomason's, I was soon welcomed by my stranger cousin. A lady-like person, with a round, comely face, shook me warmly by the hand, placed me on a very comfortable sofa beside her, and in a very short space of time we were exchanging family memories and traditions, "Oh, but mamma!" said Laura, eagerly, we can do much better than that, and Mrs. Gainsborough can come too; as many as you like to bring. So delightful! you shall hear. Who do you think I found sitting with Mrs. Wellwood? Why, dear Lady Althea herself! And she was so kind; said she hoped we were coming to the archery; and then that we must not think of staying out in the drive, but come on to the terrace. The terrace, mamma!" "Oh! that is capital," said Harriet; "weshall see all, to perfection." "I thought you would be pleased, Harriet. We shall see all the company, and the competitors." "But, my dear; did you let Lady Althea know our party would be large?" "Yes, mamma; I told her I feared it would be intruding; but she said not if you brought fifty. Is it not delightful ?" "Very pleasant," "very kind;" said all the ladies. Mr. Littington, who had entered while Laura was speaking, quietly giving me his hand, and taking a seat at the table, continued the subject thus "I hope, when the time comes, we shall not |