SISTER ANNE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "LOVE IN IDLENESS."

CHAPTER L-AN AUTHOR'S FAMILY.

"And Mrs. Lumley's party is to-morrow The family of the Dynevors was assembled night," she said, in great distress. "Oh, dear! round the breakfast-table, in the back parlor how glad I am that Anne is coming home." of their small suburban house. A family break- "She mustn't go away for so long again," fast-table! The words have a comfortable sound, pronounced Mrs. Dynevor; "I knew how inand convey comfortable ideas of sociality and convenient it would be. The Grants ought not cosiness. Yet somehow, at this breakfast, there to ask her to go to them, knowing how necessary was not much of either. The room looked she is at home. Grace's lessons suffer, too; untidy, with its litter of books and papers (Grace, my dear, sit upright in your chair). strewed about the chairs and tables. The win- Had she her music lesson yesterday?" dow had not been cleaned recently, and only a "No, mamma; I was making the pudding." dim view was obtainable of the small and desolate "And we couldn't eat it, it was so badly backcourt outside, par courtesie called "gar-made," cried Albert, with malicious eagerness; den;" and the muslin curtains which embellish-" all pasty and horrid. You dont know how to ed the said window on the inside had long ceased make a pudding; Anne does, though. I'm glad to be white, and looked very cold and comfort-Anne's coming home, I know, if only for that." less, besides, in the chill March morning. "Hold your tongue, sir, and don't cut holes On one side of the blazing fire, Mr. Dynevor in the table-cloth," said his mother, sharply; lounged in his easy-chair, completely lost for "and oh, Grace, don't spill your tea-and the time being to all external impressions, in where is your pinafore? Helen, Grace has no the engrossing columns of the newspaper. pinafore on." Occasionally he removed his eyes and his mind for a brief space from the leading article to his cup of tea and his toast; and occasionally, too, he gave utterance to some observation. usually of a complaining nature.

"My dear! this tea is weaker than ever; did the water boil ?"

"Go and fetch your pinafore, Grace, directly." "It's all torn, it must be mended before I can put it on," pleaded the bright-haired little girl; "you know, sister Helen, I told you of it last night, and you promised to mend it."

"Take a clean one from the drawer, then," persisted Helen.

"There isn't a clean one. You know you

"Yes, indeed it did, Edmund; but I think Thomson serves us worse and worse with our said yesterday” tea, though, indeed, we must expect it."

"For mercy's sake be quiet!" cried Mr. A heavy sigh closed this speech, and the still Dynevor from behind his paper. "Get the handsome face of Mrs. Dynevor relapsed into cloth removed, and then go away, all of you. its habitual expression of careworn helplessness. I've an article to finish by two o'clock, and it's "The toast is quite cold, too," resumed her now past ten. Make haste."

husband; "that, surely, is not Thomson's fault. This was an adjuration too important to be Helen, you should see to these things." disregarded. Future breakfasts depended on Helen, a blooming young girl of eighteen, the finishing of Mr. Dynevor's article, and with looked up from her employment of cutting more celerity than might have been expected, thick bread-and-butter for her younger brother his desires were complied with, and he was left and sister. alone with his desk and his inkstand. "Dear papa, I'm very sorry; but I have so For Mr. Dynevor was an author: a writer of much to do, now Anne is away." light literature for monthly periodicals—a pro"To be sure she has," said her mother, warm-ducer of elegant trifles for magazines and anly. "Poor Helen! she has been a perfect slave nuals, which people read, and smiled over, and this last fortnight." were charmed with; and if they chanced to think "Thank Heaven, Anne will be home this of the author at all, fancied to be the emanation evening," said Mr. Dynevor, as he turned again of the agreeable leisure of some man, the gayto his newspaper. "Nothing goes well when she est hearted, as well as the most sparkling-minis away." ded fellow in the world. "Helen does everything, I am sure," mur- He did not look so now, as he cast aside his mured the mother; "no one can do more than beloved newspaper with a sigh, and began his she does. My darling, you should wear gloves work by correcting the pages he had previously these cold mornings; your poor hands are quite written. His broad brow wore an expression of red." ineffable anxiety and disquietude, as he bent Helen looked ruefully at her well-shaped over his manuscripts, muttered them over, and hands, which were, indeed, somewhat too rosy. Joccasionally dashed his pen through one line, or

scrawled another. The sound of the children "The children dined at two o'clock," broke playing in the garden under the window dis- in Mrs. Dynevor, "and I thought you would turbed him, and he rose and spoke to them in a have a chop with your tea, perhaps. It is past hasty tone, bidding them seek another play-seven o'clock, andground. Then he returned to his papers, and "That will do admirably. I'm as hungry as his revising finished, proceeded to write. There, Albert, there's a penny for a forThe mere effort of collecting his ideas seemed feit. Now again. Who goes there?" very painful, and indeed he had been up late "Shall I send to Stewart's for your chop?" the previous night at a gay party, and his head again interrupted his wife; " or shall Albert run ached this morning, and his thoughts were all to High Street, and pay for it? It is much in confusion. He had only added a page or cheaper there, but thentwo to the little pile of half-sheets on the table, when a sharp ring at the door-bell was followed by Mrs. Dynevor's entrance into the room. "The printer's boy, my dear. Are you ready?"

"No. He must wait."

"Oh, Edmund! what is to be done? You know he was here half of yesterday, and he says the printers are waiting, and it will be too late for this month, and then-"

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"Oh, poor Albert would like to finish his game. Send Rebecca over to Stewart's. And, by the by, let her tell Mrs. Stewart that she shall have orders for the Theatre, in a day or two, for her children, to see the pantomime. That will put them in good humor.

Mrs. Dynevor left the room, and they resumed their game. The fire-light played upon their laughing faces; the father's as merry as his youngest child's. In the midst of their glee, a double knock at the street door was unheeded; and it was not till a pause occurred in their jocularity that they were conscious of a slight stir, and voices in the passage. When they did hear "Beer! where is he to get beer? you never it, however, they were quick to interpret its think-you never consider."

"Mrs. Dynevor, you must allow me to be quiet, or I cannot write another line. Go. Tell him to wait an hour-send him to get some beer."

meaning.

"For Heaven's sake, don't distract me, Mary. "It's Anne!" cried Albert and little Grace, Leave me to my task-postpone your com-rushing simultaneously to the door. And Mr. plaints" Dynevor, following them, was just in time to receive his eldest daughter in his arms, as she stepped into the room.

Mrs. Dynevor withdrew, sobbing, and her husband with a knitted brow turned to his work. Hard work it was. His brain throbbed, and his face was pallid long before he had finished; and the sudden gloom of that time which, out of London, is called twilight, had already come on, when with the sheets trembling in his hand, he went out with them to the boy, who was sleeping heavily in the passage.

"My dear father!" said a low but clear voice. "Ah, Anne, darling! how glad we are to have you back again," said Mr. Dynevor. "We all miss you so much; the place never seems the same when you are away."

"And Helen is quite fagged to her mother, as she embraced her. she looks quite pale and worn." "Where is she?" asked Anne.

He closed the door upon him, and turned back into the sitting-room with a face still pale, but from which the anxious look had fled mag- en! she shall have rest now."

ease.

death," added "Poor child!

"Dear Hel

ically. The trouble of the time over, he was at "She has this minute gone round to Bingley's, His was not one of those natures which to get some little things she wants for to-mordistress themselves either with forebodings or row night. Mrs. Lumley's party, you know; with regrets. His mind took vivid impressions and her dress

of the present only, and a moment sufficed to "Never mind Helen's dress just now," intercloud it, or gild it again into sunshine. He fered Mr. Dynevor. "Remember Anne has called the children to him, and, to make amends had a journey, and I daresay she is tired." for his harshness awhile before, he disported Grace was ready to take her sister's bonnet with them-lent himself to all their humcrs, and cloak, and Anne sat down beside her father, and was the blithest of the three.

In the midst of a game at "buff," Mrs. Dynevor entered.

"Is he gone?—is it finished?—is it all right ?" cried she.

confessing to some degree of fatigue.

"Bring a candle, that we may see how she looks," cried Mr. Dynevor; "for, child, you have been away a whole fortnight."

"All but two days," corrected Albert. "Quite right, Mary. You needn't worry "You see we keep accurate computation of yourself any more," returned her husband, af- the time of your absence," said the father; fectionately smiling at her careworn face. "When while Anne bent down and kissed her little are we to have dinner? Now, Grace– "Buff neither smiles nor laughs

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brother.

"Why, Anne, your cheek is quite wet," ex"Oh, but he does, though. You are laugh- claimed the heedless boy. "I do believe you ing, papa; smiling, at least. A forfeit—a forfeit!" are crying."

"Hush, Albert, whispered Anne. trimmings;" or, from Anne :-" long rambleMr. Dynevor was silent, but stirred the fire violet bank-primroses-sunset," &c. The into a blaze, by the light of which he looked at which, Albert observing, he loudly insisted on his daughter. the impropriety of such proceedings. "Albert is right," said Mr. Dynevor;

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There were traces of tears on her face, and her brown eyes were glistening even yet. But serve all your confidential chatter till you are by she turned to her father with a smile, which re- yourselves. And Anne, my dear, turn your assured him. Anne Dynevor's smile was a very face this way, and let us see if you have brought pleasant one; it gave quite a new expression to home a color. Not much, I perceive. But her face, which habitually was more calm and you were never very ruddy. For all your thoughtful than are the faces of most girls of country air, Helen is still the rosiest." scarce one-and-twenty years of age. Anne smiled tenderly and proudly on her "Have you spent a pleasant time at the beautiful sister, who, tall, brilliant and blooming, Grants?" asked Mr. Dynevor; "And how are formed a striking contrast to her pale and quietthey all?" looking self. It was a pleasant thing to note the They are very well; and I have been very affection which subsisted between them; an happy," answered Anne, cheerfully. "We had affection, however, which was usually far most pleasant weather; and took long walks, country demonstrative on the part of the younger. But walks! Oh, father! it was such a happiness to the two natures were so different.

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see the fields again, to breathe the fresh air, and "Still, though not much rosier, you are lookto look out upon the wide, open landscape." ing better, I think," resumed Mr. Dynevor, after She stopped a moment, then added, "And yet a searching gaze; "for the which, thank Heahow glad I am to be at home again."

"Are you quite sure, Anne?"

She only looked up at him for answer, with a serene, steadfast look often seen on her face. He was satisfied.

ven!" And there was real gratitude expressed both in look and tone. "You were not well, Anne, when you left home, though you persisted in saying that you were."

There was a silence. Mrs. Dynevor looked "Was Edward Grant at home?" inquired up somewhat compunctuously at her eldest Albert, with the roguish look and tone that daughter. She had a vague consciousness that young brothers are so apt at assuming on such she did not habitually think so much or so anxoccasions. "And did he walk out with you iously of her health as of the others; but then, much?" it was almost impossible to know when anything

There was a faint flush on the sister's cheek, was wrong with Anne, she was always so calm, though her voice was steady enough, as she re- so silent, about herself. The mother was glad plied briefly to his questions. Mr. Dynevor now, to see that she really looked well; her imperatively bade him hold his tongue, and Al- complexion clear, though pale; her eyes, ever bert withdrew into himself, feeling all the indig-more soft than bright, beaming healthfully. nity of the mandate, yet, nevertheless, inly "I'm sure we are very much obliged to the glorying in his own sagacity. There was some-Grants," said Mrs. Dynevor, "for taking such thing going on about Edward Grant, he was care of you, my dear. But they were always sure, or why did Anne color so? very fond of you. How is Selina looking now? The evening meal was much more cheerful I declare I have been expecting to hear she was and sociable than the breakfast had been. The married, or at least going to be. Not that she little room was improved in its aspect, now that is more than the merest girl (two or three the blinds were drawn, and candles lighted, the months younger than Helen, isn't she?)—but tea equipage on the table, and the kettle singing then, you see, they go a good deal into society on the hob. Anne sat beside her father, and they have opportunities." She sighed, and Helen, next to her, performed the duties of the paused. "Did they have much company while tea-table, with smiling and deliberate grace. you were there, Anne?"

Mrs. Dynevor occupied her own easy chair on "Not much. I met all my old H— acthe other side of the fire-place and the two quaintances, I suppose for the last time. Now children completed the circle. A general at- that the Grants are leaving, it is not very likely mosphere of rest and contentment appeared to that I shall meet any of them again." surround them all. Albert was in high spirits "Fortunately for your peace of mind," laughed again. Even Mrs. Dynevor smoothed her fea- Helen, "none of them are so charming as to octures into complacency, and drank her tea and casion you regret. Oh, me! what I used to sufate her toast with an air of cheerfulness, which, fer with Caroline Denbigh and her endless hispoor anxious wife and mother, she seldom as-toriettes about herself. She used to begin with sumed. Helen and Anne occasionally abstract- "When I was in love," just as old Major ed themselves from the general conversation, Parkinson does with-"When I was in India!" and talked together in a low tone, of which a "Well, but everybody who goes to the Grants few words were occasionally audible, such as, isn't like that," said Albert. "Kate Western from Helen :-" evening party-partners-pink and all the Westerns were famous people, and

besidesthere!"

-Why, we first met Mr. Avarne

"How soundly your father sleeps!" said Mrs. Dynevor, with a heavy sigh. "He was out at "But Mr. Avarne doesn't live at H-," Mr. Burton's last night, and, as usual, not cried Grace; "and he will come and see us, even home till two in the morning. And then towhen Mrs. Grant has gone to live in Sussex. day he had to finish his article for the Won't he, Helen? Won't he, Anne ?"

azine.

"To-day?" repeated Anne.

Mag

"I hope so," replied Anne. Helen was silent. "Surely that "Mr. Avarne called here the evening after was very late." you left home, Anne," said Mr. Dynevor. Very late. But it always is so-always! "And he was so funny!" cried Albert; "he Nothing in the world will induce him to begin made me and Grace laugh so, you can't think. and finish things in good time. And if this had And he began to draw a portrait of Helen, but been too late, I can't tell what would have behe tore it up; because he said it wasn't a bit like come of us. But he doesn't mind. He pores her. And then he drew two scenes for my over that horrid newspaper all the morning; theatre. Beautiful scenes! One is a forest with and puts off his writing till the very last minute. a waterfall, and a little cottage at the side; and And then, these dreadful late parties, which he the other is a landscape, with a practicable bridge will persist in going to. No wonder that his and wings." head troubles him; such a whirl of—

a

"And he told me a story about a fairy," interrupted eager little Grace; "and he drew whole sheet full of pictures. I will show them to you, Anne, they are so funny!"

And both the children subsided into the cry:

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Oh, I wish Mr. Avarne would come again, soon."

Mrs. Dynevor let fall her work, despondently. Anne took her hand, and uttered a few sooth"Mr. Avarne appears to be popular," re- ing words, though her eyes as they fixed them marked Mr. Dynevor. "Nevertheless, he has selves on the sleeping countenance of her father, not been here since that evening-nearly a fort- were full of trouble, deep, although tearless. night ago. Did you see anything of him at The mother presently resumed, in a broken H- Anne ?" voice-"Thomson sent in his bill three times "He came once or twice," she answered. last week. If we don't pay him a part, at least, "He is so very intimate with the Grants, you in a day or two, I feel sure he will go to some know," Mrs. Dynevor seemed to think it ne- sharp lawyer, and put us to frightful expense, cessary to explain-" he has always been in the as that terrible Gillespan did last year. And habit of often running down by the railway, it is then the baker and the milkman—I declare I'm such an easy distance by rail." ashamed to see their bills come in, they have But here broke in Albert with his scenes, and been running for so long. Then, the week after Grace with her sheet of sketches, all of which next, comes quarter-day-three-quarters' rent, Sister Anne must look at, and duly admire. and taxes. Even the servant's wages " Mrs. They quite besieged her with their talk, and their Dynevor again stopped, overcome by this reca recapitulations of Mr. Avarne's stories. Mr. pitulation of her troubles. Dynevor closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair, Anne was accustomed to her mother's gloomy and resigned himself to listen to the confused views of their circumstances; and though she babbling of the childish voices, in the midst of knew the reality to be dreary enough, she was which the low tones of his eldest daughter were still hopeful and brave. Her father's health was sometimes audible; just, he thought, as on a to her a source of far deeper anxiety even than summer's noon you may hear, in the midst of the unpaid rent and tradesmen's bills. She the hot sounding humming of insects, the south fancied that he was thinner; and that even in wind murmuring among the trees. And think- the quietude of sleep, his face wore that uning thus, he fell asleep. healthful flush, which she had learned so greatly to dread, as the harbinger of the fearful illness which occasionally attacked him.

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Anne first discovered it, and charged Albert and Grace not to disturb him. So, presently, the children went quietly up to bed, under the 'Did you call in Dr. Rogerson to my father, guidance of Helen, without bidding their father last week?" she asked of her tearful mother. good-night. And when the door closed on them, "No; he wouldn't hear of it. He grew bet Anne drew her chair near to where her mother ter the second day, or I should have sent. But was sitting, engaged in what appeared to be an for five days he was fit for nothing, even when interminable labor of mending stockings, from the violent symptoms abated. Five days! It a huge basket-full which stood at her feet. is that which has thrown us back so much. His Very soon the daughter was busily working book is in the same state as when you left home; away too, while they both talked in subdued not a line added, that I know of. He says it tones. will take six weeks' hard work to finish it; and,