CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE SIXTH COMMANDMENT.

OR some days after this scene in the nursery, Mrs. Jolliffe did not leave Nellie in

charge of the baby; and though Nellie greatly missed the enjoyment of those hours which had always been the pleasantest part of her life at the Park, she felt deeply thankful that it should be So. For come what might, Nellie had resolved that she would no longer consent to take care of Master Audley in his nurse's absence. To do so, after the conversation she had heard between Nurse Jolliffe and Miss Audley, would be to render herself "a partaker of other men's sins."

Nellie had given Mrs. Stancombe some idea of the way in which the Sabbath was kept among Squire Audley's servants, and this word of Scripture, "Neither be partaker of other men's sins," had been the special verse which Mrs. Stancombe had impressed upon her mind in begging her to resist every possible temptation to profane that solemn precept of God, to keep holy his Sabbath-day. This word had returned to Nellie's mind with regard to Nurse Jolliffe and the baby, and she had deter

Stancombe had said. Before breakfast was over, Nellie had begun to think that there would be very little, in this house, to keep the Fourth Commandment in her remembrance; before the day was over, this idea became confirmed.

At Heath Farm, though Mrs. Stokes, as she used often to say, and as, indeed, it was easy to see, "made no profession of religion," and though Mr. Stokes, always afraid of his more strongminded wife, and unwilling to excite her opposition, believed far more in his heart than he could make confession of with his mouth, yet the Sabbath was always decently observed. There it had been more the absence of anything suitable to the day than the presence of anything unsuited to it that had grieved Nellie. But here Sunday seemed a day specially devoted to self-pleasing and amusement. The carriage drove to the door at eleven o'clock, and Mr. Audley and his daughter went to church in it. Mrs. Jolliffe and Mrs. Anstey also went, and a party of men and maids. Others, amongst whom seemed all the under-servants, did not seem to think of going. Nellie summoned courage to ask if she might go, and was told, "Yes, if the breakfast things were all put away." They were not, for Nellie had not been told that this was a part of her work, and amongst so many servants it was difficult to understand what were her own particular duties; and though she longed to have them defined, she did not dare to ask any one to define them. But on learning that washing up the breakfast things was one duty, she washed them up at once, resolving

an hour, and not a minute in charge of the baby. "And pray why not? I thought it was the business of young girls to obey those who had the authority over them. And it's my orders that you should stop here till I come back."

"I can't obey them, ma'am," said Nellie, "for indeed I know it isn't right. I couldn't stop after what Miss Audley said. I'd rather go away this very minute."

"And go you shall," exclaimed Mrs. Jolliffe, turning positively pale with passion; "but not this minute, nor quite so pleasantly as you suppose. An impudent little puss of your size to set yourself up above your superiors. If you don't live to repent this, and rue the day you stood up against me and my orders, my name's not Susannah Jolliffe. Ring that bell," she added, angrily.

Nellie rang it, though her hand trembled so violently that she could scarcely steady it sufficiently to pull the rope. Mrs. Soper soon appeared, and going to meet her in the gallery, she and Mrs. Jolliffe held a whispered conversation outside the room, the subject of which Nellie did not hear. Whatever it was, it did not tend to improve Mrs. Jolliffe's temper. Soper went downstairs again, and Mrs. Jolliffe returned to the room, muttering something to herself about "making Soper sorry for this too."

For a few seconds she walked up and down the room without taking any notice whatever of Nellie, who felt equally afraid to go or stay. At length,

suddenly turning upon her, she ordered her out of the room, an order which Nellie had obeyed almost before it was concluded. Nellie sat down to her work in the ante-room, but it was some time before her trembling fingers could make much progress with it.

The evening seemed unusually long, for it was not often that it passed so quietly in the next room. Nellie heard no sound there during the quiet hours in which she sat steadily stitching away the solitary time. The baby did not cry once. Mrs. Soper did not return. Nellie never remembered a whole evening pass like that before, still no particular suspicion was excited in her mind. It struck her as a little strange, however, that the following evenings were almost as remarkable for their stillness as this one had been. Regularly as seven o'clock came round, and the last gong had sounded, Mrs. Jolliffe put the baby to sleep in his little cot, and no sooner had Nellie cleared away the bath and basket, and set all things in their places, than she was ordered into the next room, there to "mind her work till she was wanted." The order was always given in the annoyed and irritable tone which Nurse Jolliffe had used towards Nellie ever since the day when she had refused the charge of the baby. Not one unnecessary word had Mrs. Jolliffe ever addressed to the child from that day to this, and evening after evening had Nellie spent in this solitary fashion, never moving from the little room opening into the nursery until Mrs. Jolliffe's voice summoned her to do so, and gave her the

sharp command to go and get her supper, and be off to bed.

The sunshine of Nellie's outer life at the Park had all departed, when she declined taking any further charge of the baby during Mrs. Jolliffe's absence, but she never regretted her decision, for if there was less peace without, there was more within, and young as Nellie was, she had already learned that a cloud on the life is nothing compared to a cloud on the conscience, the one has always, as we know, its "silver lining," the other is sable throughout. Sometimes Nellie wished she were in another place, where she would have more work but less care, less company but more companionship, and at length she took courage to mention this wish to Mrs. Stancombe.

But there was no opening for any other situation for her, and Mrs. Stancombe, after hearing all that the girl had to say, did not think that she could be better than where she was. Rough winds were there to blow upon her certainly, but the fair flowers of newly-developed graces seemed in no danger of being beaten down by them. On the contrary, these blasts seemed to have had a beneficial effect in strengthening them-faith, prayer, resolution were bearing up bravely in the struggle, and so long as this was the case, Mrs. Stancombe felt that all was well. The temptation that did not weaken must inevitably strengthen. And Nellie was strengthening day by day through the trials that met her within and without the Park, within, there was nurse Jolliffe, without, there was her father. Nellie's last