consent of my friends, and that she had no
further concern in the matter. Indeed, indeed,
I had then no idea of deserting my mother
altogether. I was hurried along by impulse, and
I intended, when the hurry of action should be
over, to write and tell her of all I had done.
I little thought that when I quitted my school
that day, without leaving behind me the name
and address of my new protector, I cut away
the only clue by which it might be possible my
mother should find me in the future. I did not
know that I should afterwards deliberately turn
my back upon her, and hide myself from her.

Arthur Noble dined with us on that very first
evening of my acquaintance with the Hills.
You know that I have been long engaged to
Arthur, and I will speak to you freely about
him. He has often told me since that he liked
me from the first moment he saw me. I felt it
even that evening; but I could not believe in
it. But the possibility of it dazzled and
bewildered me, so powerful was the fascination he
possessed for me.

When I went to bed that night I felt my
heart strangely softened and opened. I thought
a great deal about my mother and my home, of
which I knew so little, and for the first time
feared that I had done very wrong, and resolved
to write to my mother surely on the morrow.
I felt myself to be an impostor and a liar, and
I trembled, thinking of her just anger at my
falsehood and cowardice. I felt that when
writing to her I must make up my mind to
confess to Mrs. Hill that I had deceived her
respecting my name and condition, and bribed my
schoolmistress to deceive her also. I knew
that my mother would not tolerate the deceit;
but the thought of the confession was insufferable
to me.

The next day, while we sat together, Mrs.
Hill talked to me about Arthur Noble. He
was a great pet of hers, and at present she was
particularly interested in his circumstances. He
had a cousin in England who was a great heiress,
and whom his father wanted him to marry.
Arthur disliked the idea extremely; and as the
lady was supposed to be very well inclined
towards him, he was anxious to avoid danger by
prolonging his tour abroad. He had arranged
to go on to Rome with them, the Hills; but
only yesterday his father, Sir Arthur Noble,
had met him in Paris, urging him to give up
the project, and return at once to England.
He, Sir Arthur, had lost heavily by the failure
and bad conduct of a London banker a—gentleman
who had been his personal friend. My
heart beat thickly as I heard her say this; but
I did not dare to ask the name of that banker.
In the midst of my dismay Arthur Noble came
in to assure Mrs. Hill that he still intended to
be of the party to Rome. His father's ill-humour
would subside by-and-by. He was only a little
upset by the shocking conduct of his friend
Mr. Hollingford. Then Mrs. Hill asked
questions on the subject, and I sat by stitching at
my embroidery while Arthur described my
father's disgrace.

My letter to my mother was not written that
day. In the afternoon we went out, and in the
excitement of shopping I tried to forget
everything—who I was, what I was, what I had
done, and what I ought to do. In the evening
Arthur Noble appeared again, and with him
came his father. Sir Arthur and Mr. Hill
conversed apart, but I could hear the fiery old
baronet giving vent to his anger against my
father. Arthur devoted himself to Mrs. Hill
and me. I was bewildered and distracted at
the position in which my rash conduct had
placed me, and I was very silent. Arthur
exerted himself to amuse me, and under the spell
of his attractions my remorse was smothered.

I have not spoken to you yet of the wonderful
affection which Mrs. Hill lavished on me. You
have seen it lately, but it was the same from
the first. She made me her daughter at once,
as far as her conduct to me could do so, though
I had been some months her companion before
she declared her intention of formally adopting
me.

Day followed day, and Arthur was always by
my side. A new feverish dream of happiness
encompassed me, and it was only in the quiet
of wakeful nights that I thought of my mother
and sisters and brother, and longed to hear
some news of my sorrowful home. Every
night my wrestlings with my selfish nature
grew weaker and weaker. I could not risk
exposure and banishment from Arthur's presence.
I left Paris for home without writing to my
mother.

You will hate me, Margery. I hate myself.
I gave myself up to the pleasure of the hour,
and in selfish happiness drowned the reproaches
of my conscience, till I told myself at last that
it was too late to undo what I had done. Time
flew, and I became engaged to Arthur, secretly
at first, for he dreaded his father's displeasure.
We went from place to place, staying a few
months here and a few months there. We
spent a year at Rome., and Arthur was with us
nearly all the time. When we had been some
time engaged, Arthur confided in his father, and
asked his consent to our marriage. Sir Arthur
was hopelessly enraged at the idea, and, as we
could not marry without his consent, we have
been obliged to be patient ever since. Arthur
has always kept telling me that he knew his
father would relent in time. And he was right.
The time has come. Sir Arthur has at last
reluctantly withdrawn his opposition, and we
may be married on any day in the future which
I may choose to name.

Stay, stay! she went on, as I was about
to interrupt her eagerly with a question, let
me tell you everything before I stop. I used
to dream that when I was married to Arthur,
when no power on earth could separate us,
I would confess who I was, seek out my
mother, and ask her forgiveness. Remorse
never left me, and I had bitterness in the midst
of my happiness. Arthur suspected that I
had trouble which I would not share with
him, yet I could not bring myself to con-