said Matilda, coloring, for she felt it an effort to say any thing out of keeping with the general tone of the conversation. 66 They render us more anxious to encourage those who visit distant lands, and encounter all that misery, in order to substitute knowledge for ignorance, virtue for vice, and the light of Christian hope for the darkness of vain superstition. It is a noble endeavor, and should be nobly encouraged."

"Now for a subscription book!" cried Eleanor, satiri cally. "I like the new fashion of penny collectors best. This is not the first time, I assure you all, that my cousin has been reduced to beggary; for she attacked me two days ago to assist in making out a trousseau for the daughter of that old woman who lives at Gowanbank, and who was married, I believe, this morning. Her sister Nanny may supply Martha with ornaments, for I am sure she has taken plenty of mine!"

"You are not sure, Eleanor," whispered Matilda, indignantly. "No one can be sure; and till it is proved we have no right to say so. They are in great distress," added she, with emotion.

"Ah! that is her best apology," said the heiress; "she was very pretty, and very poor; so it was, as Mrs. Gordon said, a great temptation."

"I did not allude to her poverty, Eleanor! she is poor, but I could be answerable for Nanny's honesty, as well as for her mother's; and they yet hope to see these calumnies refuted. With respect to pecuniary difficulties, they have nothing now to complain of, for old Janet told Dr. Murray that a gentleman from Barnard Castle, who accidentally heard their story, called yesterday on horseback, and after remaining there some time, left a very liberal donation, which will enable Martha and William to begin the world in some comfort."

"Now! who could that be?-from Barnard Castle, did you say? A charitable incognito! how very romantic! Mr. Grant do not assume that look of amiable consciousness, for I never even suspected you!-Colonel Pendarvis? no-Major Foley ? impossible!-Ah! Sir Colin! you are precisely the sort of person to do good by stealth, and 'blush to find it fame.'”1

"I have not gone near a cottage for seven years, except to light my cigar, Miss Fitz-Patrick! but there was a

curious incident that occurred to me in the village of Nettleton, which may enliven us while we stand here

"Stop, Sir Colin! we must investigate Matilda's story before you gain a hearing. One at a time, gentlemen, if you please, as the countryman said to a quack doctor, when he and his donkey both brayed at once."

"Miss Fitz-Patrick! you have rather spoilt that circumstance; it was-

"How dare you say so, Sir Colin!-Tell me that I have improved or invented a story, and still hope to be forgiven; but to hint that I can possibly spoil one is an unpardonable affront. I shall not listen to a word you say for three weeks, so now consider yourself in Coventry."

"Eleanor," whispered Matilda, slipping her arm into Miss Fitz-Patrick's, and drawing her aside-" dear Eleanor! your laughter at this moment goes to my very heart; for it would be difficult to conceive the state of heart-breaking grief in which that poor old woman has lately been weeping beside her once cheerful fireside. Give the subject a moment's serious thought. I cannot be so near without stealing over for an instant to inquire about Janet. There is a confused report that something very distressing occurred at their wedding to-day, but I cannot understand what it was, for the ceremony was to take place at Dr. Murray's, where neither Nanny nor her mother intended to be present; and the young couple went immediately afterwards to the village of Clanpibroch. I shall never be missed by the party here; but let me take a kind and compassionate message from you, Eleanor, to cheer their hearts, for they greatly need it. May I say that your judgment of Nanny shall be suspended till a fair, candid, and open investigation is made into her conduct? for that is what Dr. Murray promises to bring about without delay, and to which he says you consented."

"Did I? The less done in that way the better for Nanny, I suspect! but she has completely hoodwinked that good excellent man, by her plausible stories; and we must really get him to hear the truth from Mrs. Gordon and Pauline."

"Eleanor!" said Matilda, taking her hand, while the tears gathered in her eyes, "you were not always so reckless of other people's misery as now! I remember the time when we wept together, because Nanny was thought to be dying, and our dear aunt Olivia could scarcely console us.

!

It would have been better for that poor girl to have been cut off then, if her future years are to be darkened by dis grace and misery."

Matilda spoke with all the eloquence of intense feeling; and she had touched the right cord at last. Few people whose hearts are recently hardened by worldly prosperity can recall the tender emotions of their own childhood without sentiments of regret, and without having their benumbed feelings softened for a moment by observing the contrast of former and present character.

Matilda, you are right! I begin to fear that my conduct has been rash and hasty in this business. Poor Nanny! everything most precious in life to her is at stake. She certainly was a good, excellent creature long ago. I dare not think of it all at present though. I see it now, as I ought to have done from the first. She may possibly be innocent, and then indeed I have been criminally careless. Ah! Matilda, you are always the same, and if our dear aunt could look back, she would see you unchanged, but oh, what would she think of me?" Eleanor walked rapidly on for a few steps, and seemed scarcely able to refrain from bursting into tears. "These thoughts sometimes shoot across my mind, Matilda, but I dare not let them remain. Do what you like for poor Nanny; take all the responsibility from me if you can. Bring her back to Barnard Castle when you like, and tell her we shall thoroughly and heartily investigate the whole affair. Miserable as it would make me in one respect to find her innocent, I shall most truly rejoice at it, and do all that money can do-which is not a littleto make up for what she has suffered."

"Thank you, dear Eleanor,-a thousand thanks," answered Matilda, accompanying her cousin, who hastily rejoined the party, as if afraid to trust herself longer on the subject, which had evidently affected her more than she wished to acknowledge. A moment afterwards she was talking in her usual tone of careless vivacity.

"Mr. Grant, I see you are trying to imitate the Irish beggar we met last night; but, as papa's valet said, when he saw the eclipse of the sun, 'it is quite a failure, sir;' even with all my love of giving alms, you would never beguile me of a single sous."

"Allow me to differ from the last speaker! I could bet any sum on being able to maintain myself for a month, with

no other resource than the credulity of a benevolent public. What do you say, Miss Howard?"

"Your tone is much too whining and professional. I. have an instinctive perception of impostors, and could almost pledge myself to detect one anywhere. The Irishman, for instance, whom you describe, seems to be half knave and half fool, but I should certainly not like to meet such a fortune-hunter on the road when I was alone, for if ever he got anything from me it would be fear rather than charity that extorted it."

"Ah! Matilda is easily moved, and not a bit wiser than other people," said Eleanor, laughing; "you would have parted with half-a-crown, as I did yesterday, if you had seen poor Paddy-though I am certain it went straight to the alehouse, or assisted to buy lemons for his fillet of veal."

"If I had thought so, neither force nor fraud should have got a shilling out of me," replied Matilda, smiling, while she gradually slackened her pace, and dropt behind the other pedestrians. At length, having caught a favorable opportu nity, she left them entirely, and hastened over a rustic bridge which led to the cottage.

CHAPTER XIX.

The bursting heart, the tearless eye,
The cold and torpid frame,

The smother'd groan, the broken sigh,
The grief she dare not name."

WHEN Matilda swung open a little white gate, which led through the garden to Gowan bank, and saw the whole land. scape brilliantly lighted up with a sheet of sunshine, she remembered her first visits there in autumn, when the placid old woman always met her with a smiling welcome at the door, and Martha used to suspend her labors, with many expressions of pleasure and gratitude for the kindness she showed them in coming. Often formerly had Matilda lingered on that threshold, to breathe the fragrant air, as it wafted the perfume of various flowers which then profusely decorated the little enclosure; but the wind had passed over them, and they were gone as though they had never been, while thus it was also with the peace and cheerfulness which once reigned within those walls.

Sad as were Matilda's anticipations of the scene which awaited her in the cottage, she was far from being prepared for the sight of such utter desolation as that which caught her eye when she entered. Old Janet was alone, seated upon a low stool, with her face buried in her hands, and bowed down almost to her knees, the very image of feebleness and misery. Her spinning-wheel, the busy hum of which had seldom before been silent, now stood idle and neglected; the furniture, usually so clean and polished, looked dusty and disordered; the fire had nearly gone out, and her breakfast, which seemed to have been long since prepared, lay untouched by her side. How impressive is the silence of extreme grief! Matilda stood for a moment immovable at the door with surprise at the sight of such unexpected distress, and then gently advancing to the old woman, she took her by the hand, which was cold as death. Janet feebly returned the pressure of Miss Howard's fingers, and looked up with an expression of momentary wonder, showing a face so haggard,