the eyes of all who knew her, to remember that she had once been the idol of her father's heart, her future the hope of his life. She could recall his fond admiration of her beauty (for at sixteen she was beautiful, with the beauty that youth, intelligence, and happiness know how to give), his pride in her intellectual attainments that suited so well his own tastes, his pleasure in her society and companionship.

He was a successful London physician, and at his house was always to be met the cream of London professional society-barristers, authors, doctors, men who had made or who were making their own way in the world, by means of the talents that God had given them-men who could talk well, and on subjects worth listening to; this was the kind of society that Phillis had been brought up amongst.

Her mornings might be spent in the schoolroom, her afternoons in driving or shopping with her mother, but her evenings were always passed by her father's side, when he had the leisure to be with her.

He delighted to have her near him, to let her listen to the conversation that was going on, to draw her into it when possible; and his friends, clever men of the world as they were, were one and all willing to talk to Phillis; some out of a wish to please their kind old host, some from the pleasure which many talented men take in talking to a bright and intelligent young girl.

Life was nearly all sunshine to Phillis in those

days, sunshine that knew but one cloud. She was so much her father's companion, so far more united to him in heart and feeling than his handsome and rather vapid wife, that she could not help in a measure sharing his anxieties, which were centred on his son and Phillis' only brother.

Robert Maitland was good-looking and clever, and what is called a 'general favourite;' but this popularity proved his undoing, for he was weak also, vain and self-indulgent. His mother said he was 'a little inclined to be fast, like so many young men of the present day;' his father's friends called him 'wild and worthless; his own friends spoke of him as a 'rare good fellow.'

Dr. Maitland would sometimes say bitterly that he should have a better opinion of his son if he had been less weak and more wicked-but that he had not the strength of mind even to be vicious; his whole life. was one long yielding to temptation.

'At least he is always good-natured and affectionate at home,' Phillis would say, bringing forth the most redeeming point of her brother's character.

'If he were less good-natured I should have better hopes of him,' her father would reply sadly.

CHAPTER II.

A RETROSPECT.

THERE was one evening in the past which was imprinted on Phillis' memory with all the distinctness of a photograph; partly because of the painful recollections that it could not fail to excite, partly because it was the last of her old happy life.

The father and daughter were spending the evening alone together-a not uncommon occurrence, as Mrs. Maitland went a good deal into what her husband called 'miscellaneous society,' which he himself did not care for; and sometimes, as this evening, she was happy enough to persuade her son to be her escortthat son in whom her pride and delight were as great as that of her husband in his daughter.

Phillis had been singing to her father the simple plaintive ballads she sung with such unconscious pathos. When she ceased there was silence in the room, and she turned, half disappointed at missing the words of fond approbation that her father was accustomed to give her. He was seated by the fire, his

elbow on his knee and his head on his hand, and when Phillis went to him and put her arm round his neck she could see that there had been tears in his

eyes.

Father, father, are you in trouble?' she cried, with eager affection in her voice and touch.

And then he told her, half laughing at his own weakness as he spoke, that he had been moved even to tears by the words of 'Marion's Song,' which she had been singing to him.

'I thought what good would my life be to me if you "sang to me never, oh! never," my little darling; and I felt that I could not trust you to the keeping of the angels, for I want you too much myself.'

And then, as Phillis nestled into his arms, with her head resting on his shoulder, he put into words what his whole life for years past had been mutely telling her-how deep was the love he bore her, how sacred the place she filled in his heart.

That his married life had been in some sort a disappointment to him, Phillis intuitively guessed.

Her father and mother had made a hasty lovematch: he being infatuated by her beauty and fascination, and she flattered by the ardent admiration of a talented and fastidious man; but it did not take many months of married life to make them discover that their natures were unsympathetic, and that they had very little in common.

Mrs. Maitland had no sympathy with her husband's intellectual tastes, and abhorred his profession; while the love that she had once felt, or fancied she had felt, now only showed itself in indiscriminate jealousy of his lady patients.

On his side the disappointment was even keener, the disillusion more bitter. Her mind afforded his own neither stimulus nor repose. She was weak without being tender, positive without possessing judgment, frivolous, passionless-her husband was sometimes tempted to think mindless. She had a warm side to her nature it is true, but it was shown to her handsome, dissipated son, and him alone.

Dr. Maitland saw in Phillis the heart, the mind, the tastes that should have been his wife's, and the absence of which had been the trial of his domestic life.

He admired his daughter's uncompromising rectitude; he gloried in the tastes and talents which he fondly hoped would cause her to ripen gradually from an eager, intelligent girl to a large-minded, intellectual woman; above all, he rested and found repose in her devoted affection for himself-affection too deep for many words, but which found its vent in silent caresses, and a hundred thoughtful acts of love.

Unlike most fond fathers, Dr. Maitland did not think of the future with a jealous pang that he might