upon placing the cushions comfortably, and throwing a shawl over her, as in the good old days at Dene. Just as I was leaving the room, I said, "I think I must send you over a few crocuses and snow-drops, Ma'am, from Sandcombe. You don't seem to have any, and you used to like them so much."

"Oh! Ursula; thank you, indeed that will be so kind; but my niece would like some for the visitors' room, if you could spare them. She says we must all try and make that pretty and comfortable for her friends." I made no more offers. If it had been possible to be angry with Mrs. Weir, I think I should have been then.

Cotton was keeping guard in the lobby. I was going down-stairs, but she hurried me away to her own room-a little attic.

"I shall get into a scrape for this," she said; "but I couldn't help it. I couldn't bear it any longer by myself." I don't understand it all," I said.

"How should you, or any one who doesn't live in the house? I thought Mr. Richardson might have been of use, but she's too much for him."

"She! who? Mrs. Weir?"

No, no; how foolish! Mrs. Temple. She keeps him at arm's length. Ever since Miss Milicent went has he been trying to get in, and never succeeded once." "But why not?" I exclaimed;

come?"

66

why shouldn't he

"Just sit down, and I'll tell you;" and Cotton gave me a chair and seated herself on a trunk, delighted, as I perceived, to have some one to whom to pour out her troubles. It seemed that ever since the first news had been heard of Mr. Weir, Mrs. Weir's nervousness and fidgets, as Cotton called them, had increased tenfold. It was the old feeling which we had battled with at Dene, only much more vehement. Mrs. Weir could never have loved her husband, latterly she must have been very unhappy with him; yet she had kept herself up by the one principle which was, in fact, all the strength of mind she possessed,-a sense of religious duty. But for this she might long ago have been considered incapable of judgment upon any subject. I suppose, naturVOL. II.-1*

ally enough in her state of health, the principle had become exaggerated. She was morbid in her conscientiousness, but still it was the only thing to rest upon in dealing with her. In the present instance I gathered from what Cotton said, that she might have been managed easily enough but for Miss Milicent's wilfulness. If any one else had been sent to find Mr. Weir, and inquire into his condition, Mrs. Weir would, at least for a while, have been satisfied; but the moment Miss Milicent talked of going, Mrs. Weir became excited, and said she must go too—and the idea so possessed her that it became a kind of monomania.

"I should have given in to her," I exclaimed, as Cotton told me this.

"So should I," she replied. "Mrs. Weir is just one of those odd, nervous persons, who can do wonderful things when they have their own way, and can't stir an inch when they have not. I heard Mr. Richardson say this myself to Mrs. Temple. He did all he could to keep Miss Milicent from her wild scheme, and I know he put before her the harm all the fuss was doing her mother, but you might as well have talked to a stone wall; and then he took the other tack, and turned to Mrs. Temple, hoping something might be managed to satisfy Mrs. Weir,-and there was another stone wall.'

"He must have had enought to do with them all,” I said. "You would think so if you had known everything that went on; how we used to be kept up, night after night,Mrs. Temple preaching to my poor mistress about patience, and trying her so that she must have been better than Job if she had not been impatient, and at last sending her off into hysterics; and Miss Milicent coming in in the middle, with worries about her boxes, and what she should take, and what she should leave behind, and never seeing that the very mention of packing set Mrs. Weir off worse than ever.

"Mrs. Weir is quiet enough, now," I said.

"Hasn't she been tutored,-fairly tutored and trained into it? But the trouble is not over."

"I suppose Mrs. Temple did only what she thought was for the best," I said.

Cotton gave a little contemptuous laugh. "Why, Miss

Grant, you are not taken in by her, are you? She thinks it the best for herself that Mrs. Weir should stay, there is no doubt of that. If she did not, my poor mistress would have been off for France, or for Australia, or for any other country by the next packet."

"I don't precisely see what good it can do Mrs. Temple to have Mrs. Weir here," I said, "she can be only a trouble." "There is a house to be kept up," replied Cotton.

"Yes," I said, "but Mrs. Weir's income is very small." "Not so small but it helps Mrs. Temple pretty considerably; that I know from good authority," continued Cotton. "And just see in what a style we have things,-footman, and page, and pony-carriage, and gardener. Mrs. Temple didn't live in that way in her own home, and she would not live so here, if it was not for Mrs. Weir's help. She has all the money in her own hands, and she dosen't choose it should go out of them."

"Still," I said, not choosing to own to Cotton how much I agreed as to her opinion of Mrs. Temple, "it was best for Mrs. Weir to stay."

"As you

"That may or mayn't be," replied Cotton. yourself said just now, Miss Grant, when her heart was so set upon it, I should have run the risk. But I wouldn't quarrel about the plan, only the way it has been managed. If ever there was a hard gaoler it's Mrs. Temple. You must have seen enough yourself to make you guess that."

"I see that Mrs. Weir is afraid of Mrs. Temple," I said, " and I don't like her being moved into that small room, and not having everything comfortable about her."

"Oh! that's sacrifice, discipline," exclaimed Cotton; "I know the words by heart, for I've heard nothing else since we came to Stonecliff. If it's possible, Miss Grant, for a woman to make her way to Heaven by proxy, depend upon it that woman's Mrs. Temple. Why there isn't a duty that she has to perform which she dosen't make some one or another do for her. Miss Milicent-she sees the poor for her, and goes to the school; and Mr. Temple, he pays her visits, and writes her letters; and Mrs. Weir finds money for charity, and does poor-work, and gives up all her little comforts. to make things pleasant to the visitors, and Mrs. Temple

counts up all that is done, and takes the sum total to herself."

I can't bear to hear you talk so, Cotton, I said. "I don't believe it can be true."

"Just come here for a month, and see if it isn't," exclaimed Cotton. "A month! why you'd find it out in a week! I have gone in and out of the room whilst visitors have been there, and have heard her go on-'We do this, and, we do that'till, you wouldn't believe it, but I have been almost taken in myself; and no wonder my poor mistress is." "Then it was not Mrs. Weir's wish to change her room?" I asked.

"No more than it is to cut her head off. It was all done by Mrs. Temple's preaching about sacrifice and discipline. Mrs. Temple has the command of the whole house, and goes where she likes, and does what she likes; and because she is in the drawing-room all day, and does not want a sitting-room to herself, she made my poor mistress fancy that it was too great a luxury for her to have the comfortable south room, which she chose when she came here; and so, after Miss Milicent was gone, and when there was actually an additional spare bed-room, she teased her into moving into that little poky dressing-room."

"Miss Milicent ought not to have gone," I could not help saying.

"She wasn't much good when she was here," continued Cotton; "she never saw anything that went on."

Cotton was mistaken there. Miss Milicent, I was sure, saw a great deal, only with her awkwardness she did not know how to remedy it. I felt really afraid for Mrs. Weir, especially as Cotton continued her tissue of complaints, which might indeed be exaggerated, but for which I could scarcely doubt there was a foundation of truth. She had her own special grievance, which was natural enough; it was one which the servants could not help feeling,-Mrs. Temple's stinginess. I was aware of the characteristic, but I confess I was not prepared for all the little ways in which Cotton declared it was shown, The Dene housekeeping had been lavish, wrongly so very often, and no doubt there was much which required correction; but I could feel keenly with Cot

ton when she described how even the charwoman's wages were cut down, and all kind of make-shifts forced upon the kitchen in order to make a show in the parlour.

What I heard was very painful to me, and as for remedying any part of the evil, I saw no way to it. For unless Mr. and Mrs. Richardson were freely admitted to the house, there were none of Mrs. Weir's friends near to be aware how things went on, or to take her part.

"Mrs. Temple is very jealous of you, Miss Grant," said Cotton, as the conversation ended, "and I don't know whether it isn't as much as my place is worth to have let you in now. But I felt I must get hold of you, and if you can come over again before long, I'll try and smuggle you in; and if I can't, perhaps you won't mind the trouble of the walk for nothing, for I assure you it's charity."

me.

Cotton did not feel the difficulty which was present to

Mrs. Temple was the mistress of the house. If she did not like me to go there openly, I could not be smuggled in by the lady's maid-that would be entirely against all my principles, and I felt it would do no good in the end. If I was ever to be allowed to be any comfort to Mrs. Weir, there must be no flaw in my conduct for Mrs. Temple to seize upon. No, I must let it all rest in God's hands, knowing that, when the time came for me to be of use, He would open the door for me.

CHAPTER XLV.

MISS MILICENT crossed over to France safely, we heard that from John Hervey, and she was going on to Paris, hoping to find Mr. Weir there, and to be with him in his lodging, and learn his plans, and help him with her advice. It sounded, just at first, very dutiful and self-denying, and I believe Miss Milicent herself thought it so; but I hope it was not very wicked in me, I could not help remembering that she would find more amusement in Paris than at Stonecliff, and that if her father claimed her on the one side, her mother had an equal claim on the other. I was glad, however, to