"He is very quiet, but I like him," said Mrs. Haviland, as if I were deaf as well as dumb.

your eyes, Mary; I hope he has your heart."

"He has

My mother looked at me wistfully, with all her tender soul brimming up to her eyes, as she answered, simply, "He is not a bit like me; you know I was never clever."

"If he is clever enough to be good and true I shall be satisfied; so many talented people stop short of those qualities," observed Mrs. Haviland, bitterly.

I suddenly found my tongue and my courage, and said bluntly, "Truth is not often agreeable, though people are always calling out for it, Mrs. Haviland. I very seldom feel in the least good, but you must excuse my giving a specimen of my sincerity when I say that I hope you understand I only came in obedience to my mother's wish that I should escort her hither."

The fair, curly-headed child, who had hardly moved from her easy attitude on the rug, now scrambled up on her feet, shook her simple frock into order, and came up to me with an outstretched hand, which she placed in my somewhat reluctant one.

"How do you do?" she asked; "you are Mrs. Somerset's son, are you not? I rather like you, only you look a little cross. You must not be cross to

grandmamma, though," she added, decidedly, "because she is going to die very soon, and we ought all to do exactly what she wishes; oughtn't we, Juno?" And she turned to the great black retriever, with an air at once wise and childish.

Well, then, you must run away to bed at once," said Mrs. Haviland, calmly; "that is what I wish Good-night, little one; kiss Mrs. Somerset

now.

and go."

"And Mr. Somerset, too, if he is going to be nice and kind to you, grandmamma," said the girl, putting up her little pallid face to receive my unwilling kiss as she left the room.

"I cannot learn to call you Mr. Somerset, Paul," said Mrs. Haviland, "and it is not worth while to take any trouble about names for these few hours of life, is it? You will have the night to think over my plan. Your mother has wisely prepared your mind and so saved my strength; I am very near the end of it."

Her voice was unlike the voice of a dying person, but I believed every word she spoke. Still, it was not possible for me to reply. Mrs. Haviland looked at my mother, who went on with the sentence which her old friend lacked energy to finish.

"We wish you to think the whole subject well over,

Paul. Do nothing which your conscience disapproves ; but if it be possible for you to help that dear child to bear the burthen of all this splendour, tell us in the morning that you will do so. I can trust to my son's sense of honour, but I must entreat him not to sacrifice anything to a morbid sensitiveness or a weak dread of censure. Now, I am going to treat you, for all your size and age, exactly as Mrs. Haviland treated Ethel just now. Kiss me, Paul, and go to bed."

I obeyed her, and then bent over the wasted, transparent hand which the strange mistress of the house held forth to me.

Then I departed, to find a simple, comfortable room prepared for me, and no sooner had I lain down in bed than a deep sleep fell upon me, and the late morning light was shining in at the windows before I awoke awoke to remember all that had to be weighed and thought of, and possibly settled, before night.

THE time left to us for thought and decision was even shorter than we imagined.

Scarcely had I finished dressing when my mother's maid summoned me to the morning room where I had been introduced to Mrs. Haviland last night. I am far away from that spot now, and yet it is barely midnight.

My mother came to me there almost instantly. She looked pale and deeply agitated, and said,

"The end is very near. She knows it herself, and the doctor does not contradict her. Her mind is as clear and strong as when I first knew her, nearly thirty years ago; and the most earnest desire of her few remaining hours on earth is to see you married at once, before mid-day in fact, to little Ethel.”

"It is utter madness as well as wickedness," I answered. "Why should the poor child's life be made miserable to gratify an obstinate old woman's whim?"

"Oh, Paul! how can you speak in such a way? How can you call it a whim? It has been Mrs. Haviland's fixed idea for years, by what she tells me; do you expect me to think that your marriage with Ethel would ensure the girl a wretched future?"

“It is impossible!" I cried, "quite impossible; she is but a child. How could you expect me to travel about with a nurse and governess for my wife? And then there is all this horrible wealth. It stifles me; I could not endure it."

"Do not trouble your head about those points; there is no time. Mrs. Haviland has had two sets of legal documents prepared, which are complete, even to her signature. As soon as you decide, 'yes,' or 'no' (that is all you have to say) one of these sets will be burned. The other will take effect after her death. Supposing you consent, and oh! if it be possible, Paul, pray make a dying woman happy, I am to take Ethel to live with me for five years. At the end of that time you may claim her if you will, but not before. A large sum, amply sufficient for everything, is set aside in the hands of trustees for Ethel's education and maintenance. There are certain charities named which Mrs Haviland wishes you to endow, if you choose, out of a portion of the remainder, but everything else is absolutely and entirely in your own power. Did you ever hear of such wonderful trust