"I was afraid," I said, "that I might be deciding hardly, and I wanted another opinion. I believe I wish her to be independent, and so I am the more afraid of my own

"As the Farmer says: two and two make four, whether we wish it or not," replied Mrs. Kemp, " and we need not be afraid to own it. In Leah's day, Ursie, things would have been different, no doubt. She was a married woman, and had a home of her own, and Jessie was all but brought up by her, and it would have been her duty, no doubt, to find a place for her cousin by her own fireside, especially as she had no children. But you are not Leah, my dear, and you have no house of your own yet, though I hope some day you will have-and moreover, you are but a young girl, having enough to do to look after yourself. Don't you see, that to take upon yourself to be answerable for Jessie, is putting upon your conscience what God never intended should be there? I should say, try and find out something which may be good for her to do, and in the meantime keep her at Sandcombe, and teach her all the sensible things you can. I can't but think, you will do more for her by far in that way, than by tying her on to your apron strings, and fancying she is going right, because she has not the opportunity of doing anything else."

"I tried to open the subject this morning," I said, "but it was difficult."

"I wish you could put something before her which she might like to undertake," said Mrs. Kemp. "The Farmer sometimes tells me, that the quickest way of pulling down old notions is, by building up new ones. It is the plan he has gone upon in bringing folks to his way of thinking, about improving the cottages. He might have talked to them for the hour, and he would not have persuaded them; but when they saw what he was doing himself, they came round quite naturally. And so, Ursie, my dear, it may be the same with Jessie, if you want her to put aside the notions she has been accustomed to of late, and take to others."

A sudden thought struck me. "I did hear of something," I said, " as I was coming here, but it would not do; no, it could not."

"Think again, my dear. My mother used to declare that there was a 'lion in her path,' whenever a new notion was proposed to her. Perhaps there is one in yours."

"Mrs. Temple is the lion," I said, laughing. "If it were not for her the plan might do. She wants some one to look after Mrs. Weir, and read to her, and nurse her. Jessie might suit well enough for that, for she has very gentle ways, and I think Mrs. Weir would be fond of her; but then I know that a good deal would be put upon her. I dare say, in fact, she would be made to do a great deal of work besides; I should scarcely like to propose it."

No; and yet it would be close at hand, and you could have your eye upon her. It would be worth inquiring about; there might be worse plans."

That was very true, but I did not take at all kindly to the suggestion. Mrs. Kemp urged me a little more. She thought I still had a lurking wish to keep Jessie at Sandcombe; but she was quite mistaken there. I was only glad to have another opinion to support that which I had formed myself. We had been talking longer than I had intended, and I was afraid I should have but little time left for Mary; so I proposed to go to her, and Mrs. Kemp agreed, adding, "It seems to me, Ursie, that you may just as well make use of this notion about Stonecliff to sound Jessie, and see what she thinks of doing, even if it should come to nothing."

The idea was a good one, and yet I was so perverse that it made me feel almost cross. The fact was, I believe, that I did not like the thought of Jessie's filling the place which had once been partly marked out for myself. I would not have gone to Stonecliff on any account, even for the prospects of waiting upon Mrs. Weir; but it did not please me that Jessie should go. I could better have borne to see a stranger there. Persons are very fortunate whose tempers are not perverse-mine always was So. As in looking through a telescope, I generally had to make two or three twists with my mind before I could see things rightly.

CHAPTER XLVII.

EVENTS followed each other quickly about that time. It was not more than ten days after the drive to Longside, that William was off to London to consult an oculist. Farmer

A

Kemp and Roger were frightened about him, and they frightened me to; and between us we persuaded him, though not without much difficulty, to go. What chiefly alarmed us, was the fact, that my father's sight had been very bad before his death; and it was said that if he had lived he would almost certainly have been blind. Something of the same tendency, we feared, might be inherited by William. cold would scarcely have produced such consequences, if there was not some predisposition beforehand; and William was so extremely careless about himself, that we had no hope of his adopting even ordinary remedies, unless he was put under strict discipline. He was extremely unhappy, and beyond measure fidgety, when he was ill; but for all that, he would never do what he was told in order to get better.

As it happened, he could not have gone at a better time, since Roger was at hand to attend to things in his absence; and we were satisfied as to his comfort when away, for he was to be at a house belonging to Mrs. Mason, formerly of Dene. She had within the last year given up being housekeeper, and taken to let lodgings. I knew she would look after him; but I made him promise that if any operation was to be performed, or if he should be at all ill, I was to be sent for immediately. Oh! that promise! though I urged it earnestly, it fell upon my heart like lead, for I knew that God was binding me to William by ties of duty and kindness which it would be sin to break.

The effect of William's departure was to bring me to a positive decision in my own mind as to Jessie. If I should be called to London she could not stay at Sandcombe. This seemed the simplest and easiest way of putting the case before her; and I was most thankful for it; for up to this time we had been so occupied with William, and so anxious about him, and indeed Jessie had made herself so useful in reading

to him and writing for him, that I do not know what I should have done without her. I had heard again of Mrs. Temple's plan of a kind of companion for Mrs. Weir, from Mrs. Richardson, who kindly came over to see us when she knew of William's trouble, and I found, as I had expected, that the new person was to take the place of Cotton, and only to have a girl besides to help her. I could not help fearing that Cotton might have got into disgrace by admitting me to Stonecliff, or perhaps by some incautious complaints; but it was useless to vex myself about it, for I was quite tied to Sandcombe, and could not possibly have found time to walk over and inquire about it. I felt for poor Mrs. Weir very much, as I knew that Cotton would prove a loss that it would be almost impossible to replace.

The day that Mrs. Richardson called, which was two days before William went, I mentioned Jessie to her, and asked if she thought it likely she would do for the situation. Her youth seemed the great objection, but it was not a very serious one, as there were elderly servants in the house, and Mrs. Richardson seemed glad of the idea; but I begged her not to say anything about it, for I felt in my own mind that I had a hard task before me in bringing Jessie even to think of it.

My hope was that I should have Roger to support me. His common sense, I thought, would make him see the necessity of the case directly, and I introduced the subject the very day William left us. It was after dinner, and Jessie was gone out of the room, and I knew she was likely to be busy for half an hour or more, so I began: "Jessie looks much better; don't you think so?"

"Yes; quite a different person. which has done her good, Trot."

It is your company

"Time and occupation, rather," I said. "She has not much of my company; and if I am called to London she will have less of it; we must make haste and find something to suit her before that."

I saw that the notion had struck Roger for the first time. "I thought she was going to live here," he said quickly. "No; who dreamed of such a thing?" I exclaimed. "Not William, I am sure."

"He never said anything to the contrary."

"Because it is not his way to take business upon himself which does not belong to him. He knew that I should be on the look-out for something for Jessie."

"And have you found any thing?" inquired Roger.
"I have heard of something," I said.

"Mrs. Weir wants

a person to read to her, and look after her, half a companion and half a lady's-maid. What do you say? Will it do?"

"I am no judge," he replied, and he took up his hat, which was on the table, and left the room.

That evening, before we separated, and as Jessie was busying herself in putting away some of the supper-things, Roger said: "Jessie, has Ursie been talking to you at all about her plans for you?"

I can't say how surprised I felt at his beginning in this sudden way. I answered for her quickly. "There is no hurry; we need not talk about it to-night.

Jessie looked from one to the other.

"It will be no such great evil, I trust," continued Roger; and he made a movement, as though he would have gone up to her, but he stopped: "If Ursie is obliged to go to London ""

"I can go to Mrs. Price," exclaimed Jessie, whilst her eyes sparkled with pleasure. "She said she would be de

lighted to have me.'

I glanced at Roger, he looked pained, not angry,-and did not answer.

"I am afraid that won't do, dear Jessie," I said, as kindly as I possibly could, whilst feeling more cross with her than I should like to acknowledge.

"What you will want

suppose

will be some place where you can make a little something for yourself; and fond as Mrs. Price be of you, I may she is not likely to pay you for staying with her." The colour mounted to Jessie's cheeks: "You mean I have to provide for myself," she said, proudly.

"Every one is better for being independent, dear Jessie," I said, "and you know you have been accustomed to work all your life."

"Amongst my friends," she replied. "It is a very different thing going amongst strangers." She looked toward