warmth of kindness, she rose, took my arm, and
continued thus as we walked slowly to and fro
the lawn:

"You know, perhaps, that my poor husband
left a sister, now a widow as myself, Lady
Haughton."

"I remember that Mrs. Poyntz said you had
such a sister, but, I never heard you mention
Lady Haughton till now. Well!"

"Well, Mr. Vigors has brought me a letter
from her, and it is that which has put me out.
I dare say you have not heard me speak before
of Lady Haughton, for I am ashamed to say I
had almost forgotten her existence. She is
many years older than my husband was; of a
very different character. Only came once to see
him after our marriage. Hurt me by ridiculing
him as a bookworm. Offended him by looking
a little down on me, as a nobody without spirit
and fashion, which was quite true. And,
except by a cold and unfeeling letter of formal
condolence after I lost my dear Gilbert, I have
never heard from her since I have been a widow,
till to-day. But, after all, she is my poor
husband's sister, and his elder sister, and Lilian's
aunt; and, as Mr. Vigors says, 'Duty is
duty.'"

Had Mrs. Ashleigh. said 'Duty is torture,'
she could not have uttered the maxim with
more mournful and despondent resignation.

"And what does this lady require of you,
which Mr. Vigors deems it your duty to comply
with?"

"Dear me! what penetration! You have
guessed the exact truth. But I think you will
agree with Mr. Vigors. Certainly I have no
option; yes, I must do it."

"My penetration is in fault now. Do what?
Pray explain?"

"Poor Lady Haughton, six months ago, lost
her only son, Sir James. Mr. Vigors says he
was a very fine young man, of whom any mother
would have been proud; I had heard he was
wild. Mr. Vigors says, however, that he was just
going to reform, and marry a young lady whom
his mother chose for him, when, unluckily, he
would ride a steeplechase, not being quite sober
at the time, and broke his neck. Lady Haughton
has been, of course, in great grief. She has
retired to Brighton; and she wrote to me from
thence, and Mr. Vigors brought the letter. He
will go back to her to-day."

"Will go back to Lady Haughton? What!
has he been to her? Is he, then, as intimate with
Lady Haughton as he was with her brother?"

"No; but there has been a long and constant
correspondence. She had a settlement on the
Kirby estate—a sum which was not paid off
during Gilbert's life; and a very small part of
the property went to Sir James, which part Mr.
Ashleigh Sumner, the heir-at-law to the rest of
the estate, wished Mr. Vigors, as his guardian,
to buy during his minority, and as it was mixed
up with Lady Haughton's settlement, her
consent was necessary as well as Sir James's.
So there was much negotiation, and, since then,
Ashleigh Sumner has come into the Haughton
property, on poor Sir James's decease; so, that
complicated all affairs between Mr. Vigors and
Lady Haughton, and he has just been to Brighton
to see her. And poor Lady Haughton, in
short, wants me and Lilian to corne and visit
her. I don't like it at all. But you said the
other day you thought sea air might be good
for Lilian during the heat of the summer, and
she seems well enough now for the change.
What do you think?"

"She is well enough, certainly. But Brighton
is not the place I would recommend for the
summer; it wants shade, and is much hotter
than L—-"

"Yes, but unluckily Lady Haughton foresaw
that objection, and she has a jointure-house some
miles from Brighton, and near the sea. She
says the grounds are well wooded, and the
place is proverbially cool and healthy, not far
from St. Leonard's Forest. And, in short, I
have written to say we will come. So we must,
unless, indeed, you positively forbid it."

"When do you think of going?"

"Next Monday. Mr. Vigors would have me
fix the day. If you knew how I dislike moving
when I am once settled; and I do so dread Lady
Haughton, she is so fine, and so satirical. But
Mr. Vigors says she is very much altered, poor
thing. I should like to show you her letter, but
I had just sent it to Margaret—Mrs. Poyntz—a
minute or two before you came. She knows
something of Lady Haughton. Margaret knows
everybody. And we shall have to go in mourning
for poor Sir James, I suppose; and
Margaret will choose it, for I am sure I can't
guess to what extent we should be supposed
to mourn. I ought to have gone in mourning
before—poor Gilbert's nephew—but I am so
stupid, and I had never seen him. And—
but oh, this is kind! Margaret herself—my
dear Margaret!"

We had just turned away from the house, in
our up and down walk; and Mrs. Poyntz stood
immediately fronting us.

"So, Anne, you have actually accepted this
invitation—and for Monday next?"

"Yes. Did I do wrong?"

"What does Dr. Fenwick say? Can Lilian
go with safety?"

I could not honestly say she might not go
with safety, but my heart sank like lead as I
answered:

"Miss Ashleigh does not now need merely
medical care; but more than half her cure has
depended on keeping her spirits free from
depression. She may miss the cheerful
companionship of your daughter, and other young
ladies of her own age. A very melancholy house,
saddened by a recent bereavement, without other
guests; a hostess to whom she is a stranger, and
whom Mrs. Ashleigh herself appears to deem
formidable—certainly these do not make that change
of scene which a physician would recommend.
When I spoke of sea air being good for Miss
Ashleigh, I thought of our own northern coasts, at a
later time of the year, when I could escape
myself for a few weeks, and attend her. The