to

pass unnoticed. What might have been her course if Rosamond had been of a different disposition, it is needless to enquire. Resistance at an early period of her married life might have roused her energy. But Rosamond's sweet temper was a marvel. She accepted her step-mother from the first with a kiss, and a smile, and a promise to be very good, and the promise was carefully kept.

Servants, governesses, masters, all bore the same testimony. Miss Cameron really gave no trouble. She was very willing to learn, equally willing to play. Nothing seemed a grievance or a difficulty to her. That she formed no very strong attachments, and, though always welcomed by her young companions, was never deeply regretted by them in absence, might be partly the result of her reserve, partly of an unacknowledged feeling of envy at her superiority. For wherever Rosamond appeared competition ceased. Others might be second, but she was always first. A sweet voice, a good touch, and a perfectly correct ear, made her an excellent musician. If her drawings did not show any original genius, they were always artistic and carefully executed; and for information, Rosamond gained, apparently without reading, a knowledge which others, after months of toil, were never able to make their own.

Poor Mrs. Cameron! It was all very pleasant at first, when Rosamond was the one child in the schoolroom, and the little ones in the nursery were only brought down to be exhibited for a few moments to some particular baby-fancier, and sent away at the earliest intimation of a cry; but it was very different

when they were all to be displayed as one family. The difference between Rosamond and her sisters was then evident to everyone-Mr. Cameron included. Juliet and Annette indeed were passable; they had not Rosamond's grace and beauty, but they might grow into something presentable, and at any rate there was nothing in them that could be remarkably the reverse; but that unhappy Myra! My dear, if she can't look good-tempered she must stay in the nursery,' was the short and stern dictum issued by Mr. Cameron to his wife, when the child was about seven years old; and his words being taken literally, Myra was constantly irritated with injunctions to look bright and pleasant when she went down to dessert, till she lost all control of her temper, and in consequence was pronounced the naughtiest little girl in England, and left upstairs for the remainder of the evening.

The governesses, and they were many (for Mrs. Cameron, much as she disliked exertion, could never be satisfied without trying a new plan upon Myra every two years), gave rather a different testimony. Myra, indeed, was very fretful and passionate, but then she would work. Whether it was obstinacy or industry no one ventured to decide, but certainly whatever she took in hand she finished ;-untidily, perhaps, and not in a way which showed any great talent, but in a fashion of her own, which, after all, was better than not at all. And Myra would read too, which was what Rosamond never did. Give her a book, and she was happy; and in this taste was found the peace of the school-room. Crouched

in a low chair, in an ungainly attitude, with her feet on the fender, Myra could sit for hours absorbed in some tale-which, probably, she had read half a dozen times before-and Juliet and Annette were then allowed to pursue their own occupations undisturbed. But the moment the reading was over-the moment there was anything to be done jointly, and in consequence any difference of opinion, or question of conflicting rights-Myra started up, full of complaints, eager to assert herself, and ready to do battle with the first who opposed her.

It was no wonder that the disposition was expressed in the face. Myra had only a very moderate share of beauty by nature, and certainly at sixteen it had not been increased by the softening influences of education.

'My step-daughter and my own daughter-if they could only be reversed!' was Mrs. Cameron's unexpressed thought, as Rosamond, after accompanying Myra and Catharine Verney to the school-room, returned to wish Mrs. Verney. good-bye, and prepare for a ride. And Mrs. Verney's after-comment'How sweet and charming Rosamond is!'-by no means soothed her wounded maternal vanity.

10

CHAPTER II.

FAITH has brought the tonic, Doctor; don't you

think you had better take it at once? And

here is a biscuit all ready.'

The speaker was an elderly lady with a very clear complexion, and rather a bright colour, quiet blue eyes, and grey hair dressed in large curls. She wore a dark puce-coloured silk dress, by no means expansive, and rather short; so short, indeed, as to exhibit a pair of square-toed shoes, made very high in the instep, and, if one might judge from the loud footstep, very heavy-soled. Her voice was rather hard, her utterance rapid, only the pure accent told of the refinement of good society.

The Doctor was an old gentleman with stronglymarked features, which in youth might have been called handsome. The brown wig, pushed rather to one side, gave them an incongruous expression now. It cut off a portion of his forehead, and tended to exaggerate the length of his nose—a very remarkable nose, long, rounded, and cogitative, in which the chief expression of the face was concentrated. Without it the mouth might have been almost weakly benevolent, whilst the eyes were decidedly irascible.

'A quarter of an hour before your time, Patty,' was

his reply to the medicinal offer which had been made him. The grey eyes, twinkling through spectacles, were still kept fixed upon the folio open before him, and he turned a page with one hand, whilst motioning away the intruders with the other.

'I am going out, Doctor, and you will forget. Faith, pour out the medicine.'

Faith, a diminutive counterpart of her mistress, having attained that singular family resemblance which is often to be remarked in servants who have lived long in one household, came forward with a tray, a bottle of brown liquid, a wine glass, and a plate containing one small biscuit.

'It will do you good, sir; you have been much better since you took it. Has n't he now, Mrs. Patty 'Of course he has. The notion of those pins' heads doing anyone good! But Miss Medley is out of her mind, poor thing; there is no doubt of that. I hope it is not wrong to say so. I hope not. Now, Doctor, dear!'

The affectionate epithet did its work. The Doctor gave a slight sigh as he made a memorandum on a sheet of paper which lay on his desk, and then confronted his medical advisers.

It is n't so very bad, after all,' said Faith, looking at Mrs. Patty; 'not half so bad as the black doses my grandmother gave me when I was a child.'

'I wish, Faith, your grandmother was here to give you this, then,' said the Doctor. 'Patty, what have you done with my globules?'

Locked them up, Doctor. They are a temptation to you. Don't think about them now.' She put the glass into his hand.