sentiment by a real affliction. Scarlet fever
broke out in the parish. Mr. Huxley caught
it, and died, after a fortnight's illness. A
life insurance for a thousand pounds, and a
few hundreds painfully saved and laid by in
the Bank of England, was all the provision
that remained to his family.

A fortnight after the funeral, Mrs. Huxley
and Agnes were sitting sadly before the fire,
which had burned low, on a dull, chill
November evening. Miriam lay on her
couch, and could scarcely be discerned in the
deepening shadow. The dusk was gathering
thick, the curtains were not drawn; both
without and within, the world looked equally
desolate to these three women. The silence
was broken only by the sighs of poor Mrs.
Huxley; the dull firelight showed her
widow's cap, and the glaze of tears upon
her pale clay-like cheeks. At length Agnes
roused herself. She had taken the lead in
the house since the family troubles, and now
moved briskly about the room, endeavouring
to impart something like comfort. She
replenished the fire, trimmed the lamp; and
made the old servant bring in tea.

Agnes threw in an extra spoonful of green,
spread a tempting slice of toast, and placed
a small table between Mrs. Huxley and
Miriam, who both began insensibly to be
influenced by the change she had produced.
When tea was over, they became almost
cheerful. After tea, Mrs. Huxley took out
her knitting, and Agnes brought out her
work-basket.

"Now listen, dear aunt; for I have schemed
a scheme, which only needs your approval."

"That will go a very little way towards
doing good," sighed Mrs. Huxley.

"Oh, It will go further than you think!"
said Agnes, cheerfully. "I was up at the
Green this morning, and I heard that Sam
Blacksmith is going to leave his cottage for
another that is nearer to his smithy. It
struck me that the one he is leaving would
just suit you, and Miriam, and old Mary.
There is a garden; and the cottage in your
hands will be charming. This furniture will
look to more advantage there than it does
here; and, when I have seen you comfortably
settled, I shall leave you, to seek my
fortune."

"My dear, you are so rash, and you talk so
fast, I don't hear one word you say," said
Mrs. Huxley, querulously.

"I was talking, aunt, about a cottage I had
seen this morning," said Agnes, gently. "I
thought it would just suit us."

"I am sure I shall not like it. It will
have stone floors, which will not do for
Miriam. You talk so wildly of going to seek
your fortune. I am sure I don't know what is
to become of us. You are so sanguine: no
good ever comes of it. You were all so set
up with Mrs. Warren, and you see what came
of it."

"Well, aunt, my belief is, that Mrs. Warren
would be as good as ever, if she only saw
us; but she cannot recollect people out of
sight."

"She loves flattery, and she likes fresh
people," said Miriam, bitterly.

Agnes went to the piano, and began to play
some old hymn tunes very softly.

"Agnes, my dear, I cannot bear music.
Do come back and sit still," said her aunt.

The next morning Agnes persuaded her
aunt to go with her to the Green, to look at
the cottage; and, after some objections, Mrs.
Huxley agreed that it might be made to do.

Whilst making arrangements for the
removal, Agnes thought seriously how she was
to obtain a situation of some kind, and
anxiously examined what she was qualified
to undertake. She knew that she had only
herself to depend upon. A few days afterwards
the postman brought a letter with a
foreign postmark. It was Mrs. Warren's
handwriting. Agnes bounded with it into
the parlour, exclaiming, "See! who was right
about Mrs. Warren? It is for you."

Miriam turned aside her head. Mrs.
Huxley put on her spectacles; and, after
turning the letter over half-a-dozen times,
opened it. A bank-note for twenty pounds
fell out. The letter was written in the kindest
tone. She had just seen the mention of
Mr. Huxley's death, and wrote on the spur of
the moment. She was full of self-reproach
for her neglect; begged them to believe she
loved them as much as ever; spoke of Miriam
with great kindness, but without any
speciality; begged to be informed of their plans
for the future; and, in a hasty postscript,
said, that the enclosure was towards erecting
a tablet to the memory of her dear friend, or
for any other purpose they preferred.

Nothing could be kinder or more delicate;
but Miriam was nearly choked with bitter
feelings. The letter showed her how completely
she had faded away from Mrs. Warren's
affection. She vehemently urged her mother
and cousin to send back the money.

Agnes undertook to answer the letter;
which she did with great judgment. Even
Miriam was satisfied. She mentioned her
own desire to find a situation as preparatory
governess, and asked Mrs. Warren
if she had it in her power to recommend
her.

As soon as could reasonably be expected,
the answer came, addressed to Mrs. Huxley,
begging that Agnes might at once join the
writer in Paris, where, she had not the least
doubt, she would be able to place her
advantageously. Minute directions were given
for the journey. On arriving in Paris, Agnes
was to proceed at once to the Hotel
Raymond, where Mrs. Warren was staying.

"How kind! how very kind!" exclaimed
Agnes. "You see her heart is in the right
place after all!"

"It is certainly very kind; but I do not
like you to take so long a journey alone, you