and when they arrived at their little garden-gate, and paused for a moment to look at the front of their modest home, covered with its luxuriant veil of jessamine, passion-flower, myrtle, and roses, their hearts were lifted to the Giver of all Good for the great mercy vouchsafed to them. Dr. Barfoot, Mr. Cooch, and Jane, were waiting to receive and congratulate them; and, after the first words of affectionate greeting, the doctor invited them to kneel with him, in thankfulness for the great blessing they had received. Nelly, who was fatigued with her journey, soon retired to rest; and when she laid down her head upon the pillow, it was with a feeling of happiness and contentment too perfect to last long in this world of trial. Mrs. Selby entered her daughter's chamber before retiring for the night; and as she stood at her bedside, she felt, in the fulness of her heart, that great indeed, next to her God, was the gratitude she owed Mrs. Burrow. While she stood gazing at her beautiful girl, Eleanor opened her eyes, and, after looking at her for an instant, said, half averting her face, "Oh, mamma! when do you think Charlie will come home ?" III. ON the very day on which Eleanor and her mother returned from London, there were seated in a room in Calcutta (for thither, by a quicker way than even by the overland route, must the reader be for a short time transported) two young ladies, whose fair skins, and-at least in one case-fresh blooming cheeks, would have satisfied any one acquainted with the change which female beauty soon undergoes in the East, that they were recent importations. The apartment, which was large, lofty, and spacious, was well, indeed elegantly furnished, though, in accordance with the demands of the climate, the principal objects of attention had been coolness and shade. Various musical instruments were scattered about the room; a half-finished piece of fancy-work, which a small Italian greyhound, unheeded, was mercilessly pulling to pieces, lay on the matted floor; and the table was strewn with songs, music-books, water-colours, and drawings in various stages of incompleteness. The elder of the sisters-for such, though there was but very little resemblance between them, was the relationship of the two occupants of the apartment-was a delicate and rather pretty young lady, of about two or three-andtwenty, fair, blue-eyed, and gentle, though rather melancholy in expression; she was half sitting, half reclining on a sofa, and turning over the leaves of a book with a listless air, which seemed to show either that she was in delicate health, or that the enervating influence of the climate was beginning to have its effect upon her. The other lady, who might have been two or three years younger, was, though not perhaps strictly beautiful, a fine, handsome girl, with luxuriant black hair, brilliant black eyes, ivory teeth, and a rich blooming cheek; her face was rather proud than winning, but one that might be made very winning nevertheless. She was seated at the piano, but did not appear more intent upon it than her sister was upon her book; for though her fingers occasionally strayed over the keys, they appeared to do so rather mechanically than from an action of the will; but this seemed to proceed more from absence of the mind than from listlessness, for there was a look of deep thought about the eyes-a look that would have struck one as being rather out of place, for the face did not altogether seem a thoughtful one. There was a smile, too, around the mouth, but neither that nor the expression of the eyes was altogether pleasant. The smile was evidently one of triumph, but there was something else in the look: it might have been calculation; it might have been regret ; it might have been- It is always difficult to read the meaning of the eyes, especially when they belong to a young lady. All at once she started from her reverie, cast a half-glance around at her sister, and then, as if from a sudden thought, first running her fingers over the instrument in a light, airy prelude, burst forthwith into the following song. The voice was one of great sweetness and power, and had evidently been highly cultivated; and the young lady as evidently possessed great skill as a pianist. The music itself was light and trifling, and did little to test the abilities of the performer; yet a musician would have listened with pleasure, and with the knowledge that much more might be accomplished; while an ordinary hearer would have paused, not only for the song, but to look again at the singer, every feature of whose face seemed to express the feeling of the words. The look and tones were arch, spirited, and somewhat malicious-rather too malicious, perhaps, to be called playful: "Bend low to your lover, my lady, With blushes and blandishments sweet; Bend low to your lover, my lady, Till you see him a slave at your feet. 'Till the altar you leave, as a bride: Is chained in your fetters for life.” "Really, Fanny, a new song, and sung, too, with great spirit and feeling!" exclaimed the elder of the two young ladies. to ask whether Captain Howard inspired the strain ?" 66 May I venture As her sister spoke, the singer turned half around on her music-stool, and looked at her with a smile; but she did not answer, and the other resumed: "I cannot, of course, suppose that poor Robert Sinclair taught you that song, Fanny; pray, did you learn it from your new admirer, Captain Howard ?" "Captain Howard has not heard it yet, Louisa," replied her sister; "I do not think I shall sing it to him just yet." And she sang again"Bend low to your lover, my lady, 'Till the altar you leave, as a bride.”" Surely, surely, Fanny," said the elder sister, "you cannot be going to take in Captain Howard too! You know that you are engaged to Robert Sinclair, and that he will follow us to India in a few months to marry you." "I do not call it taking in' Captain Howard, as you politely term it," replied the young lady addressed as Fanny; "if I give up Robert Sinclair, and marry him, he, I flatter myself, has no reason to complain." "No reason to complain? Why, I suppose you will lead him to believe that you love him-you that have been attached to Robert Sinclair ever since you were children, and he to you! Why, you know, almost from your cradle you two have been looked on as lovers; and, what is more, Fanny, you do love him, as well as you one. any Well, and suppose I do," said Fanny, "there are more substantial realities in this world than 'Love's young dream.' Louisa! young as I am, I have learned to look on love as the great lie of life!" can love J "It is a falsehood, then," replied the elder sister, "which we all wish to believe in at some time." And the words were spoken in a tone of much sadness. "Yes, Louisa," said Fanny, with a contemptuous smile-"yes, as you believed in it, until even you could believe no longer. Nay, do not look so frightened, and colour so violently; I will not whisper to any one that you have been disappointed in love, lest the birds of the air should carry the matter, and your market should be spoiled." "My market should be spoiled!" exclaimed Louisa, in a tone of pique. "You are singularly coarse in your language! Could Captain Howard overhear you, perhaps mine might not be the only market spoiled to-day." "Perhaps not; but, as I suppose we are safe for the time from eavesdroppers, I intend, Louisa, to speak for once very plainly-coarsely, if you please; but I do not intend to deceive you, for I see no reason why I should. Captain Howard, I believe, never appeared to be conquered by your more matured attractions, though he does seem smitten by mine." "I doubt, Fanny," replied her sister, "whether such would have been the case had you appeared in your proper character; but I must allow that you are a finished actress.' "Thank you for the compliment," replied Fanny; "I desire no better. Now listen to me. Bobert Sinclair is very much in love with me, I believe; and I, under some circumstances, might have fancied myself so with him; but he is poor, very poor, and though he is of good family, has no prospect of being much better off than he is now. When our good, venerable old fool of a father thought proper to marry a young wife, you and I, Louisa, had no choice but to go to our cross, stingy, maiden aunt, Miss Sarah Somerville; to come out to India to our married sister, Mrs. Major Ponsonby, and try to get husbands for ourselves; or, as a last resource, to remain at home, the overgrown daughters of a young mother-in-law-younger, indeed, than you are, Louisa, and not so many months my senior as to make it pleasant or graceful for me to play the dutiful daughter. Now, is not this true?" "I cannot deny it; but why repeat all this? I know it far too well already." "I repeat it partly to enlighten you, and partly that I may put my own thoughts into shape, and my motives into words, that I may hear how they sound a spoken thought is sometimes very different from what it appears when it glides through the brain so gently and so noiselessly. Well,' as our old nurse use to say in her stories, where was I?' Oh, at the predicament our venerable father's youthful blood got us into. We determined 6 then to come out on speculation to India, as many a hopeful damsel has done before; and here we are, and here we have been for three months. Now you may not wish to observe, or may not be really very observing, but, in spite of blindness, natural or artificial, it must be very apparent to you that our kind sister Ponsonby and her martial-looking husband would both be very grateful to the powers above or the powers below if they would kindly send us a husband each," k "All this applies to my lot, I am sorry to say," answered the elder sister, "but not to yours; you are engaged, and might have remained home a few months, and then have come to India provided with a husband, instead of coming in search of one." "And so spoiling your chance-eh, Loo? But mind you, I have given you the first chance of the market, and have even allowed you to report privately that your younger sister, who was too unwell to accept invitations or receive company' for a whole month, was engaged: I am not to blame if you have not made the most of your opportunity. I might tell you that I did this out of pure sisterly affection, but you would not believe me; and as I am in a truthful humour, I will allow that I had other and selfish motives, which, as far as I can now see, were wise ones. But, to return to Robert Sinclair. You say that had I waited a few months, I might have come out as his wife; but, as he was to come to India at all events, it was as well for me to set off with my dear sister somewhat before him, and just look about me a bit first. Besides-do you remember the ball at Alverley the week before we left? Well, Mr. Sinclair gave himself great airs on that occasion, and, among the rest, found fault with my dress, which he dared to call-yes, I fear that was the word meretricious. You need not be told, Louisa, that I resented this insolence. He said, too, that I flirted with every gentleman I met. That I did not care much about, but the word he used when speaking of my dress, filled me with rage. I did not conceal my indignation, and we parted in anger. We met again, indeed, and exchanged forgiveness, but I remember and resent it still." 1 The speaker paused, with a heightened colour and flashing eyes. Her sister then said: I 1. "I have observed, Fanny, a change in the style of your dress, but I had no idea that you owed the improvement to Robert Sinclair." Y "Oh, I don't know," replied the other, recovering her ordinary manner; "perhaps the hint, though rather broadly given, was worth attending to. I have told you that I still, in my heart, resent what he said, but I would not recur to it, if Robert Sinclair could offer me the advantages I covet; but he comes to India to seek his fortune, whilst Captain Howard has already highly distinguished himself, and is a most rising man in the service; his father holds a high official situation, and has great interest as well as great wealth, and Captain Howard is an only son-altogether, the temptation to break faith with Robert is very strong." "You forget, Fanny," said her sister," that Robert Sinclair has an uncle a baronet." I dobra "Indeed, I do not forget it," replied Fanny; " neither do I forget that the said uncle has two sons, and that one of them is engaged to be married. No, no, there is no hope of my ever being Lady Sinclair; if there were, I should not think it worth while to assume any character but my own to Captain Howard, but I perceive that he rather admires the sentimental and delicate, and as you say-I am a pretty good actress." "Still," persisted Louisa," I cannot approve of all this. What will you say to Robert when he comes?" "I hope that, when he comes, he will find that the bird has flown. Captain Howard proposed to me last night, Louisa, and will speak to Ponsonby to-day. Give him a hint how the matter stands, will you? I don't think he will much care, so he can be rid of his sweet sister-in-law." "I will speak to Sophy, if you wish," said Louisa, " and desire her to name the subject to her husband. But let me beg of you, Fanny, to reconsider this. How can you hope ever to be happy, if you marry in this way-with a decided preference too for another? You may be a good actress, but, however gifted, you cannot go on acting for a whole lifetime." "No one does so for a whole married lifetime, I suppose; but, as my song says, 'The bridegroom you've won, my fair lady, Is chained in your fetters for life.' Once for all, Louisa, I have quite made up my mind on this point; it will be something to secure so soon one of the best settlements in Calcutta.. People say, that even Miss Crewe that proud, detestable girl, so full of her high birth and her great expectations, who has refused so many offers, because she can find nobody good enough for her-they say that even she would be glad to catch Captain Howard; but I shall have the triumph of disappointing her, which in itself will be no slight gratification. She dares to rival me, or even to assume some airs of superiority! She has the vanity, too, to think she can sing! Oh, it will be glorious to annoy her! But here comes Sophy; just give her a hint of what my intentions are." And, humming an air, she walked carelessly from the room. A long conversation concerning Fanny then ensued between Louisa Somerville and her married sister. After the subject had been discussed for some time, Mrs. Ponsonby said: "Do not distress yourself, Louisa, but let Fanny act as she pleases. No doubt, soon after her marriage she will begin to show what her temper is; but if Howard is the spirited fellow I think him, he will conquer her, if not, she will conquer him: either way they will get along, I hope, passably together. And perhaps, after all, she is right, for Captain Howard is certainly a better match than Robert Sinclair. But now, Louisa, for your affair. Ponsonby says, the offer you have received from Mr. Colman is quite unexceptionable, except, indeed, as regards You are, I believe, my dear, twenty-three-he is twenty-five years older; and Ponsonby says, he is sure you may do as well, or better, if you will wait. You may stay with us until you have a more eligible opportunity, especially as Fanny may be considered as positively disposed of." age. "I thank you, dear Sophy, for your kindness," said Louisa," but Mr. Colman's age is no objection to me. After I was, as Fanny calls it, 'disappointed in love,' I did not think to marry, but looked forward to devoting myself to our father's comfort, to nurse and soothe him in sickness and old age; but he, as you know, sought happiness at the hands of another, and when he did so, he told me he had made arrangements for sending me out to you, for he thought it quite absurd to keep me |