back to England and claim me. But either no letters came, or Susan would not send them, because they were all so much offended with my father; and when I looked unhappy, or when I refused any offer of marriage, Papa would tell me how silly and weak I was to cling to a fancy,— for it was my money, not me, that Harry wanted-and that when he had heard that if I married him I should be penniless, he was quite willing to be bought off with an appointment abroad, and a promise of future help. And then we met some one who had seen him in Melbourne, and said he was leading a wild life, and was likely to contract a low marriage-but I would not believe it; I clung desperately to hope; till at last, three years ago, I had a short note from Susan Webbe, saying that she thought I ought to be told that her brother was married, but to a woman whom his family could never acknowledge."

Mrs Erskine stopped in her narrative, and seemed to draw her breath with

difficulty.

"And you. ...?" asked Zara with deep interest.

"I?—I did what my father had been pressing me to do for two years past—I married. When I heard this news, I did not care what happened to me, and I told him I would accept the next offer I received and I did. It was 'wild Tom Erskine of the Blues,' as people use to call him, and my friends told me that he was good-for-nothing, and would make me miserable; but papa was all for the marriage, because it would make me a Countess if I lived long enough; and I . . . I was reckless and mad, and did not care; and so it was. . . . and what more need I say? Any one in the regiment could tell you the kind of life I lead with my husband I had a dear little child, but he

died a baby; and I was thankful, yes thankful for might he not have grown up to be like his father, and so break my heart? I have heard it said that Mrs Erskine is the fastest woman in London society; they might have called me the most miserable one. If I did not laugh, and dance, and make fun of people,--I should go mad, and kill myself, I think. My father did not live long after my marriage; so he had his heart's desire, without seeing in what manner it was fulfilled. He used to say to me that he had never had any confidence in Harry Webbe; and that if he had thought that Harry would make me a good husband, he would have over-looked all his other objections to my choice. This was after we had heard of Harry's marriage, and everything was over; and my father said it so often, that I think he believed it at last. I knew it was not true, but I let

him deceive himself. Why should he be miserable because I was? Poor father, he loved me very much in his way; but circumstances had made me the only instrument of his social ambition. I felt bitter about what he did once, but the feeling passed quite away. People act from mixed motives, and do not even understand themselves-so it is not safe to judge them; and after all, we are only the blind instruments of each other's fate. . . ."

In the relief afforded by this disburdening of her unhappy condition, she had wandered into a half soliloquy, and was gazing blankly on the opposite wallspeaking, it seemed, half-unconsciously.

"Has anything happened to-day?" asked Lady Carew, seeking to draw her back to the present.

"Yes," she said, with a sudden start, and turning her scared glance once more

on her friend, "I have seen him to-dayor his spirit."

"Who?" questioned Zara, with startled "Your father?"

incomprehension.

No, no; Harry Webbe. He was leaning over the railings in the Park as I rode by, and I saw him. I thought at first it was only a marvellous likeness, sent to shock me, and make me mad-but it was he; though time and climate have altered him so much, that I believe not even his own sisters would have known him-but I did. I could see that he had recognised me; for his eyes never ceased following me, and once they met mine. I wonder that he knew me.

I have suffered enough since we parted,nearly six years ago,—to have altered me beyond recognition; at least

my whole

oh ! mer

ciful God, have pity on me!" and the wretched woman buried her face in her