my clothes; so I came directly, and have been here ever since, except occasional weeks at home."

"My next question will be a very strange one, Charlie; but I want the truth. Do you feel the love of a grandson towards Mrs. Ellis?"

Charlie blushed deeply, and averted his head.

"Do you? Tell me."

"No," very hesitatingly spoken, "I like her, I try to do so, and I'm sure I always endeavour to be kind to her; and to help her all I can when I am with her, but—”

"You don't feel the love for her that you do for the mother of Dysart Leland."

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No, indeed I don't. I do love Mrs. Leland, she is so kind to me."

“And she never shows any affection towards you. Is that so?"

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Yes, sir, and she won't allow me to show any to her, she always repulses me, and tells me she doesn't care for fuss."

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'My poor boy, Mr. Ashton acted wisely when he brought you here, where there are those who love you, and dearly, too."

He regarded the child very tenderly as he spoke, as if to assure him of his friendship, and Charlie smiled.

In an instant, however, the fair face grew sober, and wistful were the sweet blue eyes, as he timidly asked, "Am I doing wrong, Dr. Leslie ? do tell me please, I often think about it, and it troubles me."

"In what, my boy?'

"In not feeling the love towards my grandmother that grandsons generally feel."

"My boy, you can't, under the circumstances; it is an impossibility. I don't see how you could, were she your mother, and treated you with such indifference. If, as you assure me, your filial duty is carefully performed in outward observance, I do not see that you are committing any sin. Our feelings are not so absolutely under our control. If she showed affection to you it would be returned?"

"It would," answered Charlie, "but she doesn't, neither will she allow it in me."

"Then be content. In this case it seems to me that the fault rests with her, not you."

"It has often troubled me," said Charlie, "I wished, and tried to do right, and I am sure that in my outward behaviour there is nothing wrong. It is only that when I'm leaving her, to return to Norstone, and think of meeting my friends here, I feel so relieved and glad to get away, then my conscience seems to say it's not right to feel pleased, and that I'm doing wrong."

"You're not doing wrong. Ease your mind on that score, my dear; you would be an extraordinary individual did you experience pleasure in the society of one, who, it is evident, cares so little for you, and treats you so coolly." I never knew what affection was until I came here," said the boy," and then Mrs. Ellsworth was so kind, and Mr. Ellsworth too; then Dysie Leland took to me, and I went there. Now Arthur is kind, and you, Dr. Leslie,

and I thank you for that kindness. Oh, if I had but a father and mother, I wouldn't care how poor they were, if they only loved me; I do envy Dysie his kind mother, and wish she were mine. I haven't a relative in all the world to whom to cling. It is so hard, Dr. Leslie! I'm sure if other boys who have kind parents knew but for one day what it is to be an orphan, and to feel you're one, they would set far more store by their parents than they do. If I had a kind father and mother, I should take great care that I never caused them any sorrow by my undutifulness, or neglect ! "

He spoke excitedly, even agitatedly, and his eyes were suffused with tears. Poor Charlie! his heart was full to overflowing, and Dr. Leslie saw that beneath the usually calm, collected exterior, lay feelings, the intensity and depth of which, few would ever conjecture.

Poor boy! not often did her emove the veil, and show his hidden sorrows. Never before had mortal being become cognizant of his secret griefs. Never before had he, in words, expressed the void in his soul, the intense passionate yearning for affection, that surged through his boyish heart.

In Dr. Leslie he met with a sympathizing friend, one who had himself suffered much, and could feel with and advise him. Laying a hand gently on his shoulder, the doctor as gently said, "Arthur is an orphan."

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Yes, but then he has you, who are related to him. He will never feel the need of parents as I do."

"He never shall, if I can help it," said the doctor firmly. "Charlie, you have a Friend, a Father, who loves you."

"I know it," replied Charlie, his clear eyes beaming with light," and that is a great comfort to me. Perhaps I do wrong in allowing myself to dwell so constantly on my friendless condition; but, Dr. Leslie, lately, I have longed so for relations. I believe it is with going to Mr. Leland's and seeing Dysie with his mother. I never felt it so much before, ought I to suppress it?"

"No! decidedly not! no such thing! you-" He stopped short, apparently with an effort, then went on, "you must try, for the present, to look upon me as a father, and trust me, as you have this day done. I will always act by you as by Arthur, and I regard him now as my

own."

Long sat the doctor in thought, after dismissing him, to all appearance, revolving some intricate and weighty problem in his mind. Presently, he opened his diary and wrote therein :

"What I suspected before, I am now tolerably certain about. Sweet child! but a little while, and the parents for whom thy gentle heart so longs shall be given thee. Lily' He remembers his mother's name, Lilias Menteith, My Lily-flower-' Lord Menteith's favourite title for his wife. No wonder the old woman wants him to forget. Just the son to nurse Lady Menteith back to health and happiness, with his loving care and thoughtfulness. I must take good care of him for them, dear little Charlie! What a merciful provision of our wise heavenly Father, that during all these years he has been kept so pure and good, so free from all taint of evil, such as but too frequently corrupts the children of the very poor, or those situated as he must have been until his election into the cathedral choir."

CHAPTER XXI.

THE SERVICE.

HEY entered the cathedral just as the bells were beginning to chime for service, none of the congre

gation, as yet, having arrived. How noble, how solemnly grand looked the stately old edifice on this particular evening, the light afforded by the rows of gas jets on each side of the choir, but partially dispelling the gloom enveloping the far-off arches in its dusky folds. Upon the organ pipes the light fell, making the splendid instrument appear as if wrought in gold.

How solemn the scene, how suggestive to a thoughtful mind of the mutability of all things human and terrestrial.

Ages have passed over thine head, majestic old pile, yet thou still remainest. Much, too, has thou witnessed of change. Norman, Plantagenet, Tudor, Stuart and Guelph have swayed the sceptre of our sea-girt isle, have passed away and returned to their dust, yet thou art the same, albeit, upon thee antiquity hath set her seal.

Sacrilege, alas! has also been thy portion, whenunder Cromwell's iron rule, thine hallowed courts echoed to the neighing of his war horses. How sad must have been that sight, how heart-rending to those who delighted in