said, " but it does not signify;" and I felt an
icy indifference creeping into my voice and eyes
as I spoke to her.

"Is this jest or earnest, Mattie?" said Mrs.
Hatteraick, looking at me strangely.

"It is earnest, Mrs. Hatteraick," I said; and
then I picked up some white flowers and began
decorating Polly to make her look still more
like a bride, putting my head on this side and
that as if criticising coolly the effect of what I
was doing; but I might have been sticking my
roses in the child's mouth for aught that I could
see to the contrary.

I had felt Mark's eyes upon me all this time;
but I had not ventured to glance at him. Now
he turned to the window and stood some time
looking down on that landscape I have described.
At last he said suddenly:

"Mattie, will you come down with me to the
garden for a few minutes? I have something to
say to you."

I could not find a word to give in answer;
but I dropped the remainder of the flowers in
Polly's lap, and turned to follow him.

"Are you going in that costume?" said
Sylvia. I took off the yellow turban with which
she had decked me, and threw it at her feet,
slipped the gaudy mantle from my shoulders,
and went down-stairs after Mark.

"Mattie," said he, when we got into the open
air, " how long have you been engaged to Mr.
Elphinstone?"

"Six months," I said.

"Then you were engaged to him before you
came here first?"

"Yes."

"Why did you not tell us tell my mother?
Why did you keep it a secret?"

"I had a right to do so, if I pleased," I
said.

"You had not the right," he burst forth, in
a voice and with a face that reminded me of the
day the little boy had been kicked in the stable-
yard. "Answer me truly, Mattie, have I hidden
from you, from any one, how I have been setting
my heart upon you? Have you not known all
this time that I have been loving you with all
my strength?"

I said " Yes," and I tried to say it coldly and
hardly, for I felt tears coming, and I feared
not what might happen if I let them fall. But
I looked up at the moment, and I think my eye
must have told him something, for he checked
his anger and spoke tenderly.

"Mattie, my own love," he said, "you are
unhappy. There is something very wrong in
all this. Trust me, tell me about it; can we
not set it right?"

He held his large strong loving hand towards
me as he spoke, and with all the passion of my
soul I yearned to lay my face against it and
pour out all the troubles of my heart, as freely
as a little child to its mother; but the madness
of such an action stared me in the face all the
time, and I could no more have done it than I
could have died of my will on the instant.

"Will you not trust me? Can we not set it
right?" lie said again; but I said " No," in the
same cold way, and turned from him. My arms
hung like lead by my side. I could not lift
one finger to detain the kind eager hand extended
towards me, till at last it was withdrawn in
anger, and I saw him turn and stride away—
away from me, among the trees, without looking
back—out of sight.

I fled into the house. Hurrying across the
hall, I met Mrs. Hatteraick, who put her
arms round me and drew me into the nearest
room. Then I broke down, and with her
motherly hand on my hair, I cried on my knees
with my head in her lap, wept and wept, till I
thought I must have wept all the youth out of
my life. I spoke nothing to the dear old friend;
her soft soothings and hushings sounded as if
from across a raging sea. I could take no
comfort. I do not know exactly when it was
that there arose a cry of " Mattie! Mattie!"
all through the house, as it seemed; outside
the door, and on the stairs. But, at last, several
people came into the room at once, and were not
at ail surprised to see me crying so, telling me
to hope for the best, assuring me that my
father was not dead, that the doctor gave hope
of his recovery; saying that the carriage was
at the door, one bringing me my hat, and another
my mantle. And before many minutes had
passed I found myself driving hastily home to
the Mill-house, with a clear knowledge that
my father had got a stroke of paralysis, and lay
in danger of death.

I found by his bedside two kind friends,
Doctor Strong and Miss Pollard. Then began
a weary period of watching and nursing, during
which the shadow of death hung over the
Mill-house. All selfish unruly thoughts were
obscured in the darkness, and the sore heart was
thankful to mistake one pain for another in the
confusion of its growing sorrows.

It was Miss Pollard who beckoned me out to
the lobby one day to give me the latest news of
the country-side.

"Miss Sylvia is engaged to be married to
Major Hatteraick, my dear!" she said. " Goodness
me, what a coquette that girl has been!
And now to think ol her settling down in
Eldergowan at last!"

I almost pushed my little friend down the
stairs. I called to Luke, and bade him see her
home through the village. Why should I hate
her, who had never meant me ill? I said good
night kindly, and went back and shut the door
of my sick-room, and gathered myself under the
shelter of the shadow of death.

MR. CHARLES DICKENS'S READINGS.
MR CHARLES DICKENS will read at Warrington on
Thursday the 2nd; and at St. James's Hall, London, for
the last time this season, on Monday the 13th of May.