there had been nothing, hitherto, in the happy,
prosperous, uneventful lives of the sisters to
disturb—forces of inborn and inbred disposition
had remained concealed, which the shock of the
first serious calamity in their lives had now
thrown up into view. Was this so? Was the
promise of the future shining with prophetic
light, through the surface-shadow of Norah's
reserve; and darkening with prophetic gloom,
under the surface-glitter of Magdalen's bright
spirits? If the life of the elder sister was
destined henceforth to be the ripening-ground
of the undeveloped Good that was in her—was
the life of the younger doomed to be the battlefield
of mortal conflict with the roused forces of
Evil in herself?

On the brink of that terrible conclusion, Miss
Garth shrank back in dismay. Her heart was
the heart of a true woman. It accepted the
conviction which raised Norah higher in her
love: it rejected the doubt which threatened to
place Magdalen lower. She rose and paced the
room impatiently; she recoiled with an angry
suddenness from the whole train of thought in
which her mind had been engaged but the
moment before. What if there were dangerous
elements in the strength of Magdalen's character
—was it not her duty to help the girl against
herself? How had she performed that duty?
She had let herself be governed by first fears
and first impressions; she had never waited to
consider whether Magdalen's openly acknowledged
action of that morning might not imply
a self-sacrificing fortitude, which promised, in
after-life, the noblest and highest results. She
had let Norah go and speak those words of tender
remonstrance, of pleading sympathy, which she
should first have spoken herself. "Oh!" she
thought bitterly, "how long I have lived in
the world, and how little I have known of my
own weakness and wickedness until to-day!"

The door of the room opened. Norah came
in, as she had gone out, alone.

"Do you remember leaving anything on the
little table by the garden-seat?'' she asked,
quietly.

Before Miss Garth could answer the question,
she held out her father's will, and her father's
letter.

"Magdalen came back after you went away,"
she said, "and found these last relics. She
heard Mr. Pendril say they were her legacy and
mine. When I went into the garden, she was
reading the letter. There was no need for me
to speak to her: our father had spoken to her
from his grave. See how she has listened to
him!"

She pointed to the letter. The traces of
heavy tear-drops lay thick over the last lines of
the dead man's writing.

"Her tears," said Norah, softly.

Miss Garth's head drooped low, over the mute
revelation of Magdalen's return to her better
self.

"Oh, never doubt her again!" pleaded Norah.
"We are alone, now—we have our hard way
through the world to walk on as patiently as we
can. If Magdalen ever falters and turns back,
help her for the love of old times; help her
against herself."

"With all my heart and strength—as God
shall judge me, with the devotion of my whole
life!" In those fervent words Miss Garth
answered. She took the hand which Norah
held put to her, and put it, in sorrow and
humility, to her lips. "Oh, my love, forgive
me! I have been miserably blind—I have never
valued you as I ought!"

Norah gently checked her before she could
say more; gently whispered, "Come with me
into the garden—come, and help Magdalen to
look patiently to the future."

The future! Who could see the faintest
glimmer of it? Who could see anything but
the ill-omened figure of Michael Vanstone,
posted darkly on the verge of the present time
—and closing all the prospect that lay beyond
him?

INNS OF COURT.

THE Inns of Court, formerly "Hostels," or
town mansions of the great nobility, like the
hotels of France, are now four in number:
Lincoln's Inn, the Inner and Middle Temples, and
Gray's Inn. The first derives its name from having
been erected on the ground where the residence
and gardens of Henry Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, once
stood. Tradition tells us that this nobleman,
"being well affected to the knowledge of the
laws," in early times induced a body of legal
professors to settle on his property. The two inns
which bear the name of the Temple, deduce that
appellation from the once celebrated mixed
religious and military order of the Knights
Templar, who, in 1185, settled there. On their
dissolution, according to Dugdale, "divers
professors of the law that came from Thavyes
Inn, Holburne," became the tenants, but their
settlement was plundered in the rebellion of
Wat Tyler, by the mob, and the buildings were
burned. The destruction of the property, both
of the professors and of the students, including
all their books and records, accounts for our
imperfect acquaintance with their early history. In
the reign of Henry the Eighth, the members of
the Temple were divided into the two societies as
they now exist, but they still retain the ancient
church in common. James the First, 1608,
granted the possessions they severally hold to the
benchers of the two inns and their successors for
ever. Gray's Inn takes its name from the ancient
and noble family of Lord Gray of Wilton, but the
estate reverted to the crown long ago, and from
the crown the benchers hold as tenants. The
government of the several inns is vested in their
benchers, or, as they were formerly termed,
"ancients," who fill up vacancies as they occur, by
selections from those members of the inn who
have been most distinguished at the bar. The
benchers have for centuries exercised the exclusive
power of admitting students of their respective