is no admiring audience to applaud Miss Sara Temple, in her grand character of the Gambler's Daughter.

"That old life was happy in comparison with this: I have a great mind to tell Cyril Denham he is free: to let you go, and to work honestly for my living. I work hard enough now, but dishonestly; the toil of rehearsals, and of acting six nights in the week, is considerably less than that of acting always, ever sustaining a character not my own; ever dreading the terrible crisis that is sure to come. Nemesis will be here by-and-by, as surely as we now stand here together face to face."

"You are not an agreeable companion to-night, Laura, you are tired and over-excited; take a glass of wine, and go to bed. You will be reasonable again in the morning."

"I suppose I shall. I shall be wax in your hands once more. Father, I wish I had been a plain-faced, stupid hunchback: then you could not have made a sordid market of my beauty; then you would have placed me in some charity school, and I should have learned my duty. I should have gone out to service, or I should have been a sempstress; perhaps you would have deserted me in my innocent childhood— so much the better for me. Oh! I am sick of intrigue. I know I have been an apt pupil, my talent for cheating has almost amounted to genius, but I suppose from my mother I inherited some tiny spark of goodness that will not go out in spite of all the floods of wickedness that have been sweeping over me these twenty years; and there are moments when I hate you, but I hate myself still more; when I feel that I must give up the miserable tissue of deceit, or go mad."

"I think you are a little mad to-night; but I have seen you in these moods before. We will not talk further now you weary me, and make me angry; a little more, and I shall forget the courtesy due to a lady."

A lady!" she cried, in terrible scorn of herself.

"I am no more a lady than I am Laura Somerset ! Angey Matthews and that odious Miss Grundison have more right to the title of lady than I have! A sweet lady, in sooth."

66

Hush, or I shall strike you. My patience is all but gone. Go to your own room this instant. This

day month you must be there is no alternative. young woman—I will not

Mrs. Denham. It must be, Good night, my virtuous say 'lady' again,'

298

CHAPTER XXX.

AUTHORSHIP.

A WEEK passed quietly away, and then Mr. Somerset again sought private speech of Cyril Denham, and told him that he had deliberately considered the subject of his and Laura's engagement, and that for his daughter's sake he felt no rupture must take place; in fact, the marriage had better be concluded as soon as the necessary formalities could be observed; he was leaving England on important government business of a strictly private nature, and it was not in the fitness of things that Miss Somerset should remain without a protector. And much more the careful father added, much which proved him to be a skilful diplomatist, and a most astute observer of human nature, of Cyril's nature in particular; and the result was that Cyril was convinced of his own villainy and cowardice in seeking to throw off a girl who really loved him, and whose prospects would probably be seriously injured, did not her well-known engagement terminate in marriage. How severely he had blamed Elizabeth for her want of faith! would it become him to follow her example? No; as Mrs. Matthews would say, "he had made his bed, and he must lie on it;" he had committed an error, and he must suffer the consequences: perhaps he and Laura would get on very well without much love; perhaps a sort of tranquil affection would grow up between them whenwell, when they had been married a few years. Perhaps, as wife and mother, Laura might develop into something less artificial, and consequently more genuine, than she hitherto had been; at any rate, there

could be no release. Marriage with Laura was his Kismet, and it is of no use to try to evade one's fate.

"But then," whispered conscience, " you have rushed upon your fate, you have fashioned your own fortunes; whatever might betide, blame not fate or fortune; above all things, blame not providence."

So blaming himself full bitterly, and with a heart as sore as sorrowful man e'er carried, Cyril Denham resigned himself to his fate, and that fate was to be married, at the latest, early in February,-now it was November.

Mr. Rattenbury asked him what had been decided ; and hearing the state of the case, smiled grimly, and replied, "I wouldn't stand in your shoes, Cyril Denham: you are going to begin life afresh, for marriage is always in a certain sense the commencement of a new life, and you begin it by swearing a lie. For goodness' sake, my dear fellow, read the marriage service through, and see to what you pledge yourself in God's sight. What my Minnie said was true enough, though, I must confess, difficult of application.-Come home with me to-night."

But Cyril could not accept this invitation, and it was more than a week before he went to Pibroch Place. When he did go, Minnie Rattenbury received him more in sorrow than in anger, but she told him at once that he had made a fatal mistake, that he was weak and foolish, and that no good could ever come of deferring to mere expediency.

I cannot help it," said Cyril, dejectedly, "it is my fate."

"Nonsense!" cried Minnie, energetically, almost stamping her little feet on the footstool, "one would think you were an absolute heathen; fate, indeed! We seek our own fate, and fashion our own fortunes, to a great extent. God gives us certain opportunities, and we use them or abuse them, and then commend or rail at our fortunes. Oh, I have no patience with it." "With what have you no patience?"

"With people who blame fate or fortune or providence

for their mishaps. I am convinced that our fortunes are very much as we make them.”

“Surely I did not make mine. Monkswood was passing from the Denhams when I was born."

"Perhaps so. Your own fortunes really commenced when you entered the office in Parliament Street. You knew full well that it rested with yourself to obtain promotion; you have rare talent, but you have not perseverance. So you grew careless, and let your chance go by; you slighted the Ashburners, who were your best friends, in a moment of infatuation you proposed to that sorceress, Laura Somerset. And so you have spun the web of new fortunes. God puts certain threads into our hands to weave them as we think best; we cannot make the threads ourselves, we cannot choose them, but He permits us to work them very much after our own fashion. God provides the anvil and the metal, but the work must be our own. He gives all things requisite for a noble life and noble deeds, but the great Giver will have His children wise, and energetic, and painstaking. In their need He will always appear for them, and succour them, and guide them, but He will not do supernaturally that which they are able by His grace to do naturally. God helps the diligent, but leaves the idler to his idleness. Depend upon it, Cyril, our fortunes are chiefly made and marred by ourselves."

“And I have marred mine."

"I think you have. But once marred need not be ever marred. ‘Try, try again,' as my little Toodlums says over his pinafore, which he is learning to fasten for himself. But then if you will marry Laura Somerset, I don't know what to say, for there must be truth and soundness at the foundation of all our work, if we are to do it well and heartily. To be false to marriage vows in heart must be displeasing to God; perhaps as displeasing as if one were false indeed. Oh, if you must marry, if you must replace Mrs. Gower so quickly, why on earth did you not seek to win-