tract on the dresser, I think I'm not the same Phoebe Russell since I read it."

"I shall certainly remember what you wish, Phoebe; and it is a great pleasure to me to hear you say that you feel that you are a changed person. We must all be changed, born again, before we can see the kingdom of God. I hope you read the Bible I gave you, and that you always make time for prayer, at least both morning and evening."

66

"Yes, Miss Mary, I do most days, and when I don't, I'm unhappy, and I take it that's a good sign.

"It is, Phoebe. But remember, when we know we have done wrong, it is not enough to be sorry; we must take care not to do it again, and daily ask God to give us His Holy Spirit to keep us from sinning against Him.”

"And when is it to be?" asked Phoebe. "Will he have long to wait?"

"I hope in about a month, if arrangements can be made in so short a time.'

"You'll be in white, miss, won't you? with a long veil sweeping behind; and who'll be the bridesmaids?"

66

Indeed, Phoebe, I have scarcely thought of anything yet; it was only settled yesterday."

"And did it take the breath out of you, miss? I remember the day I was near it myself, I thought I'd have choked when he spoke to me; and after all, it was only to light his pipe he wanted."

Remembering some directions of her aunt's to which she had not yet attended, Mary now left the kitchen, leaving Phoebe to meditate upon what she had heard. The clock striking one soon awoke her to the consciousness that her mistress would expect her dinner punctually at two, and that for it no preparations had as yet been made. “Fool that I am!" she exclaimed, as she stirred the fire violently, "to sit dreaming this way, as if a wedding would apologise for having no dinner. Not a bit of it, as I know." And on that day, and the next, and the next, for many a day, dinner was on the table to the moment, and was eaten, in a most unromantic style, by Miss Waller and her niece.

The preliminaries of a wedding can afford so little interest to any one except those immediately concerned in them, and then only as a means to an end, that we pass them over, and come to the day itself upon which Charles Frederick Mostyn and Mary Helena Woods were married in the parish church of Bloomfield.

It is remarkable that no one has ever heard of an ugly bride; and certainly to this rule Mary Woods made no exception. "She looked every inch a lady," was Phoebe's remark, as she left her room that happy morning; and "as gentle and loving," the school children declared, "as if she was nothing at all-only going to teach her class."

The morning was lovely. The bride, attended by Fanny Wright and Ellen Jones as bridesmaids, walked to the church along a shady lane sparkling

with daisies and primroses. The school children, each class headed by its teacher, followed; Mary's class, now without a teacher, walking first after the bridesmaids. The whole village was alive with interest, all in their Sunday attire. Mr Jones read the service, and Mr Wright gave away the bride, who, as Mrs Mostyn, returned with her husband to Elmsgrove, where the wedding-breakfast was given; Miss Waller having gladly accepted Mr Wright's offer that it should be so, saying she was "not used to such things, and would not know how to set about it; and that, moreover, she would very likely have a cold or something that day, and might not be able to go to the church. I can see it all from my window," she added; "and as to the service, why, it's all in the Prayer-book, if I like to look at it."

As we know very few of the Bloomfield people, we cannot say who were at the breakfast, except Miss Harrison and the family from the Rectory. Harry and Blanche enjoyed the "fun" as much as any children could. But it did seem passing strange to them that Captain Mostyn should like to leave the Victory, and "never, never sleep in her again, just to marry Mary Woods, whom they had known all their lives." Talking together that evening over the events of the day, they agreed that the "nicest things" at the wedding were the walking two-andtwo to church and the plum-cake, but that the "jolliest fun" was throwing the slippers after the carriage as it drove from the door.

CHAPTER XI

AND how did Miss Waller spend that day?

When she and her niece parted for the night the previous evening, and Mary softly said, "Thank you very much, aunt, for your care of me, ever since the day that, as an orphan, I became your charge," Miss Waller's eyes filled with tears, and kissing Mary, she hurried to her room, and spent a good part of the night, Phoebe afterwards declared, "tramping about like an uneasy spirit." In truth, she did not sleep much that night; there were thorns in her pillow which prevented her; thoughts which troubled her, feelings she used to stifle, now overcame her. One chapter of her life was about to close; not one line in it could be altered; and as she lay awake, all the events of those seventeen years passed in review before her. The retrospect was painful.

She rose early. "Is there anything I could give as a little wedding-present?" she thought as she dressed herself. "I have nothing valuable in the way of ornament—I never cared for such things. Yet I had a coral necklace and brooch. I'll look for them." And opening the secret drawer in the old-fashioned cabinet which stood in her dressing

room, there lay the necklace and brooch, broken, indeed, but the pieces were all there; so they might be mended. "Have I anything else?" she again asked herself. "What's this?" A garnet ring which had lost a stone. "Well, it will show off her white hand;" and so it was put aside with the coral, "What keeps the drawer from opening?" she exclaimed, as she shook it violently; and putting her hand in as far as she could, she pulled out a small packet sealed with black wax, and addressed-" For my darling child. To be given to her as soon as she is old enough to value its contents."

Miss Waller was not an impulsive character, but her nerves were shaken, and as she read those words she uttered a scream which brought Phoebe into the room.

"Did ever I see the like!" she said. 66 Shaking from head to foot! Why, Miss Mary 's as steady as a rock, and me pulling and tugging to lace her dress behind, an uncommon awkward fashion when you're in a hurry! And there might be some excuse if she shook, the poor thing! with such a day before her. But for you or me to tremble that way! Come, cheer up, ma'am, and don't let her hear you. There, now, I'll get you a cup of tea. There's nothing like the tea for quieting."

So saying, Phoebe departed, and Miss Waller rose and locked the door, muttering, "Little she knows why I shake. And that's the packet she drew from under her pillow, and gave it to me, wet with her tears, saying, 'Keep this for my child; I leave