chances of earthly happiness simply to have been able to show herself to Charles Cornish in the light of a prosperous and petted woman; a mark for envy in the eyes of the world, and the evident object of some one's devotion and solicitude. The knowledge that such a position was open to her, circumstances had of late forced upon her notice; this evening she determined that it should be hers.

Mr. Gibson's regard for Miss Maitland was no secret to his sister, and she would often laughingly assure Phillis that very slight encouragement on her part would bring her elderly suitor to her feet, and give herself (Mrs. Lamb) a charming young sister-inlaw. The old gentleman's openly expressed admiration, bordering at times on tenderness, had been hitherto somewhat irksome to Phillis. She was grateful for his kindness; but his elaborate attentions, his old-fashioned and somewhat laboured compliments bored her. She would gladly have avoided the efforts of civility which they demanded in return. But now, doing what few of us have the courage or honesty to do, she plainly stated to herself her own determination and her motives for it. She would give Mr. Gibson that slight encouragement which his sister said was all he required-she would accept his attentions, she would become his wife. He was seventy years oldso much the better. She could not marry a young man, He was kind and courteous, gentlemanly, and

presentable. He would worship her; he would give her everything that kindness and money combined could give. In the eyes of the world she would be a happy wife, a fortunate woman; and Charles Cornish should see it.

CHAPTER XX.

SUCCESS AND A WARNING.

THE evening of the dinner-party had come, and Phillis was in the drawing-room, awaiting the arrival of the guests. She wore a dress of some soft, gauzy, black material, simple in make and texture, but graceful in form; a crimson camellia was in her hair. She was not in mourning now, but she still chiefly wore black; and the entire simplicity of her dress this evening was chosen with a purpose. A bride of eighteen, baby-cheeked and blonde-tressed, attired in all the bravery of wedding finery-Miss Maitland could not and would not attempt to compete with her; but she knew her own style.' Her handsome gold-and-pearl ornaments, relics of the days when her mother had been one of the best-dressed women in London, relieved her attire from the charge of poverty. Her beauty was of the sort that is only marred by furbelows; long dark folds of drapery became her best. Excitement and agitation had dyed her cheeks a deep rich carmine, her eyes shone with almost un

natural brilliancy; her movements were full of a dignified grace. She was poor blind Mrs. Lamb's paid companion; but she looked like an exiled princess.

Words of compliment were on old Mr. Gibson's lips as he presented Miss Maitland with a superb bouquet, purchased at Covent Garden that afternoon. He had been away from town for a week, and had but just returned. Phillis seemed to him to have bloomed into richer beauty during his absence. In his oldfashioned way, and with his wordy phrases of ceremony, he was telling her so; while his sister sat listening, amused and pleased, from her corner; and Phillis bowed and smiled in acknowledgment of flowers and compliments. His words verged on the formality of a 'declaration,' and her acceptance of them might almost be supposed to include her acceptance of him.

It was thus that Mrs. Johnson and her daughter, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Charles Cornish, found them.

The old gentleman discontinued his 'courting' to attend to his sister's guests; while Phillis moved to the side of her blind mistress, to perform her usual duties of mentioning the names of the different persons as they came up.

Mrs. Lamb treated her young companion so entirely as an equal, that her friends naturally adopted the same tone towards her also; and Mrs. Johnson was

very soon introducing Mrs. Charles Cornish to Miss Maitland.

One sharpest, keenest pang of agonising jealousy shot through Phillis as she thus stood face to face with the woman who was her successful though unconscious rival; who filled the place, who bore the name that should have been her own. It seemed to her that she must have gone through a moment's actual bodily torture, for the pang she experienced left behind it a bruised and broken feeling in her whole frame, that did not leave her through the evening.

The bride was exactly as Mrs. Johnson had described her small and fair and childish-looking. Her features were pretty, her eyes grey and wondering; but her face was as wanting in the expression of intelligence, which was one of Miss Maitland's great charms, as her stature was inferior to the tall, stately form of Phillis. Her dress was the orthodox attire of a bride of barely a month's standing.

For a happy and successful bridegroom, Mr. Cornish's manner was strangely wanting in ease. He appeared uncertain how to greet Miss Maitland; he blushed hotly, and his words did not come readily. It was Phillis who held out her hand to him with a civil cordiality, who hoped it was not too late to offer congratulations, who inquired after his mother and sisters, and expressed a wish that she might meet them in town.