ton repeated his visit, until the old man began to look forward to his coming with unmistakable pleasure.

This pleasure was fully shared by Mr. Singleton, who had been greatly struck by the Squire's altered manner, and the strange humility with which he alluded to himself, and everything that had befallen him. He always shook his head when Mr. Singleton suggested that it might yet be God's will to spare Lily's life.

"No, no," he would say, in a tone of deep feeling, "I cannot even ask it! my past trials have been borne with such sinful rebelliousness, that if the Almighty should see fit to afflict me still further, it will be only what I deserve and expect.'

And as Mr. Singleton listened to his selfupbraidings, and saw the look of mingled grief and humility which rested on his careworn countenance, he knew that if God were indeed to consider it necessary to remove this object of his affection he would meekly and submissively endure the stroke, kiss the rod which had inflicted it, and, amidst the weakness of human suffering, and the bitter

ness of human sorrow, exclaim, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him."

But Lily did not die; although she hovered so long over the brink of the grave that even Mrs. Singleton, whose hopeful disposition inclined her to take the brightest view of the case, began to despair of her recovery. Slowly and imperceptibly the ebbing tide came back to the small fragile frame; vigour returned to the weary limbs, and colour to the faded cheeks; and the flickering flame, which had been so nearly exhausted, began gradually to grow stronger and brighter, until the fascinating little creature was running about, as active and gay-hearted as ever!

For some time she remained under the impression that the lady who spoke so softly to her, and nursed her with such devoted tenderness, could be none other than her long-lost mother; but when the more serious part of her illness was over, and she was able to notice all that went on around her, she soon found out her mistake.

"So you are not mamma," she said to Mrs. Singleton in a tone of disappointment, after watching her intently one day.

"No," replied the lady, quickly;

quickly; "but you must love me all the same."

"Must I?" said Lily, somewhat dubiously. "Yes; because I am mamma's friend!" แ Oh," exclaimed the child, looking more satisfied, "I didn't know that. Please, mamma's friend," she added, presently, 66 when will mamma come herself?"

"Not just yet, dear," returned Mrs. Singleton, in a soft, soothing voice; "but she has sent me instead, you see, and she hopes you will be very happy and contented · with your grandpapa until she sees you again."

This was quite enough for Lily. She put up her little lips for a kiss, and lay back upon her pillow with an air of placid resignation. She never more complained of her mother's absence, but became each day fonder of Mrs. Singleton, whom she would follow with her eyes all over the room and address by the title of "mamma's friend." Sometimes the lady feared lest the constant repetition of this name should arouse Mr. Faversham's suspicion, and lead to his asking questions which she might

not find it convenient to answer; but he fancied that it simply arose from the circumstance of her having for a while acted as the representative of Lily's mamma, and thereby become associated with her in the child's mind; and he only smiled when he heard the sweet lisping voice eagerly recounting the wonderful sayings and doings of mamma's friend! who during the wearisome period of convalescence was most successful in inventing various kinds of amusements for beguiling the tedium and monotony of the sick-room.

The old man's joy on seeing his darling thus restored to him from the very gates of death was inexpressible.

At first he could scarcely realise the truth, so thoroughly persuaded had he been in his own mind that she would be taken from him; and it was not until Lily was well enough to be carried from her bed to the sofa that he permitted himself to cast aside his doubts and fears, and enter fully into the delightful prospect which was opening up before him of being still entrusted with the charge of one who had grown so dear to his desolate heart.

After this there was a great improvement in Mr. Faversham's general manner. He became less cold, and reserved, and unbending in his intercourse with others, and began to take a kindly interest in the welfare of those whom he had previously deemed beneath his notice. No one could now accuse him of being haughty and dogmatical, harsh or overbearing; for there was an air of courtesy and grave politeness about him, which astonished and disarmed the most prejudiced of his observers, and converted the foes which his former incivility had made into positive friends!

Even the servants benefited from this change, for Mr. Faversham's eyes were at length opened to the foolishness and inconsistency of his conduct in withdrawing himself from the society of those of his own station, and wilfully suffering the grand old mansion and fair domain, which had once been the admiration of the whole neighbourhood, to lapse into so woful a state of neglect and disrepair; and he gradually set about the somewhat difficult and delicate task of introducing certain alterations in the