was better than her creed. But she
repressed a womanly movement of pity by
way of asserting the stern purity of her
principles, and replied, with elongated
upper lip and incisive brevity, "That is
the natural result .to which such iniquity
leads, Miss Boyce."

"Dear me," said Miss Boyce, "I've been
making quite a preachment! But it is not
altogether my own wisdom that I have
been uttering. The fact is that I was
yesterday with that sweet creature, Maud
Desmond, and she talked to me a little
about the vicar's daughter; and when she
was out of the room, Mrs. Sheardown
talked of her a great deal, and, between
the two, I got a pretty clear notion of the
state of the case."

"You don't mean to say that Miss
Desmond visits her?"

"No, no: their lives are apart altogether.
But I do believe that if Veronica needed
anything—if she were sick, for instance—
Maud would go to her directly."

"Would Mr. Lockwood allow that?"
asked Mrs. Lovegrove, with something like
a sneer.

"Yes, I think he would. He's not the
good fellow I take him for, if he would
oppose it!"

Mrs. Lovegrove had not quite forgiven
Maud for preferring Hugh to her son. As
Maud had not turned out to be an heiress,
the thing was the less to be regretted.
But to do Mrs. Lovegrove justice, she had
been almost as willing to encourage Augustus's
penchant before there was any idea
of Maud's being wealthy as after. And
her maternal vanity had been ruffled by
the young lady's cold discouragement of
her darling Gus.

Mrs. Lovegrove's character was not malicious
at bottom, however, and, after a
minute or so, she said, "I do think Miss
Desmond is a really good girl."

"Good? She's an angel! And so
clever!"

"Indeed? I did not perceive much—a
—much solidity of intellect in Miss
Desmond, I confess; but she is very young
still. However, it was a very proper
attention on her part to call on us directly
she came to town. Mr. Lovegrove knew
her mother well. He is, indeed, in some
sort the young lady's guardian, and he was
gratified by her coming."

"Maud Desmond always does the right
thing," said Miss Boyce, in serene
unconsciousness of Augustus's ill-starred wooing.
"It was a good thing that the Sheardowns
brought her to town with them on a visit.
Very nice people the Sheardowns. I knew
them at Shipley. I hear often from that
neighbourhood, and I fancy the vicarage
was no fitting or pleasant place for the
girl."

"Really!" exclaimed Mrs. Lovegrove,
with a strong gleam of curiosity in her
grey eyes.

"No, I'm afraid not. Emma Begbie
writes to me—there, I've let her name
slip out. But you don't know her, and,
probably, never will, so it don't much
matter. Well, this young lady tells me
that the vicar is going to the dogs—that
isn't her phrase, but it is her meaning—as
fast as he can. He has cut his old friends,
and formed low connexions. And he
doesn't even attend to the duties of his
church, but has got a wretched curate, at
twopence a year, to do his duty for him,
and, in fact, the whole thing is as bad as
it can be. He's no fit guardian, and his
house is no fit home, for a young girl."

"A clergyman—of—the—Church—of
—England!" said Mrs. Lovegrove, with
portentous slowness, nodding her head at
each word.

"Oh, dear, yes! There's no doubt in
the world about that."

Then the tea-things were cleared away,
and presently the Misses Phoebe and Lucy
and Dora Lovegrove made some music.
And Augustus sang a Latin hymn,
accompanying himself; and if the vocal portion
of this performance were almost inaudible
at the other end of the drawing-room,
the pianoforte part was attacked with un-
sparing vigour. Then Miss Boyce's cab
was sent for, and she went home, having
passed as she protested a very pleasant
evening.

PORTRAIT OF MRS. BRENNAN.

"THIS is all very nice indeed, very nice.
An excellent house, furniture well chosen.
All you now want is, a good, honest,
hard-working, faithful creature, who would
work, and put her soul into her work."
These words were uttered by the Rev. Mr.
Wheeder, a friendly but portly and unctuous
clergyman; they were half addressed
to Olivia and me, and half to a large glass
of our new sherry, in one of our newly-
purchased wine-glasses.

Olivia and I looked up with enthusiasm;
then downward with despondency. Such
a beatific vision seemed too remote.