"And what do you do? do you tell them ?"

"I! oh no," said Grace, "I could not do so for all the world!"

Well, but I do sometimes," said Ellen, "do you think wrong

יי?

"Oh, not wrong! it can't be wrong; I do wonder at Constance, and admire her every minute; I wish I could do as she does-how very good she is!"

"Yes," said Ellen," but I can't do as she does at all; it is only some people I can speak to-children, I mean, like myself; and then it's all by chance-you know I could not do it if I thought of it beforehand, I should not be able to open my lips, and should feel quite choked. But, Grace, I want to say one more thing to you, will you let me ?" "Yes, certainly."

"Do you think it right to object to those expressions because they are vulgar?" asked Ellen, " or to use one and not another?"

"You mean what your cousin said of Mrs. Jenkinson,' remarked Grace; "I thought perhaps she had not mentioned all her governess said to her."

?"

"Then you did think that not a right reason, did you? asked the determined Ellen.

"I think it cannot be," replied Grace, "because, you know if a thing is wrong, it cannot signify if it is vulgar or not, for it must not be done."

"But then there are some things," said Ellen, "not exactly wrong, that 'vulgar' would do to correct, such as speaking loud or being boisterous, or any thing of that kind, don't you think so?"

"Yes, I suppose so," said Grace, "but you know people might do all such very small things, because they are right, if they pleased, either because their mamma told them not, or because they saw they hurt or offended some of their friends."

"I don't think I ever thought of that reason for such little things before," said Ellen, "yet I never like to hear people say, 'Do not do so and so, because it is vulgar,' or 'do so and so, because it is genteel,' do you ?"

"Mamma never says so to me," replied Grace, "and I do not think I ever heard it said till to-day. Mamma sometimes says to me such a thing is rude, it might hurt peo

ple's feelings or such a thing was forward, and I understand these words much better than the others, but I always understand mamma."

Here the bell rang for dinner, and the young friends hastened down.

We ought not perhaps to pass over the drawing-room conversation between the young ladies without a few remarks. It was not like young ladies, and what is far worse, it was not like young Christians. Mary Anne shows constantly a very bad spirit and wrong temper, not to speak at present of her grand piece of falsehood; she does not seem to check the beginnings of evil, but yields to temptation in a moment. Isabella is silly and affected, and what is worse, suffers these follies to lead her into exaggeration and almost downright falsehood; she talks in such a random manner, that when she is wishing to exhibit her own importance, she scarcely knows truth from falsehood; there was a first beginning to all this-alas! why did she allow it? Fanny lets foolish thoughts and feelings take hold of her, so that she is ready to be satisfied with such a one for a friend as Isabella, without waiting to see if she is likely to be worthy of her regard; their friendship has begun in flattery, so it is very likely there is not much sincerity in it; such characters as Fanny's very often end in discontent and suspicion of every body, because they place their affections on unworthy and unstable characters, and will not believe the opinion of persons who have the means of knowing the truth better than themselves. Emily has a great many good qualities, but she has not yet brought them into order; and besides, she has some faults--she is provoking, and she tries her cousin's temper too much--then she confesses she allows herself in a wrong habit," because she cannot help it." If she cannot correct herself, even outwardly, she is not fit to correct others at present. Ellen felt very sorry after she had made use of an expression she heard from others she found it easy to do so, but felt ashamed-she left it off, and never did so again; every day proofs occurred of her judgment being right-she joyfully acquiesced in them and kept to her resolution. Emily and Ellen were sisters; they had had much the same training; the same circumstances in this instance occurred to both; both witnessed the same scenes for a fortnight; both had the same temp

tations; both had the same warning from Hanson; both heard the same chapter read on the next Sunday; but both did not make the same use of these kind providences—one resisted the bad habit, the other yielded, and now makes for excuse, "she cannot help it;" alas! why did she ever begin?

CHAPTER XXII.

Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute.

French Proverb.

MR. EVERARD came down to dinner, but it was quickly despatched, and the young people dispersed to their toilets. Grace had thought before dinner of trying to speak to Mary Anne herself, but it was quite impossible to do so without all being aware of it, since the Duffs dressed together in the same room, and Mary Anne, not having seen her sisters so long, kept particularly close to them. Grace was in her room first, and she was deeply musing on her late conversation with Ellen, when Emily came into their room. The moment she entered she ran up to Grace and seized her by both her hands, saying, "You naughty, deceitful child— Grace, I am quite ashamed of you!"

Grace did not know whether she was in jest or earnest, and looked distressed.

Why you know you are," continued Emily, "but I know all about it, you can't deceive me!"

"What do you mean?" said Grace.

Why, you know well enough; what does your conscience tell you ?"

"Indeed I don't know," said Grace, whose memory kept running over her late conversation with Ellen.

"Well, I believe you, Grace, though you have been deceiving us all the morning; I really don't know which is worse, Mary Anne or you.'

"Oh, Emily!" cried poor Grace, colouring crimson, and covering her face with her disengaged hands.

"Well, I'm glad you are ashamed at last," said Emily. Emily did not understand Grace's feelings, and was now amazed and concerned to see Grace was in much distress.

She believed Emily thought she had been acting very deceitfully, and was afraid it was true, yet she could not say a word of any sort because of betraying Mary Anne; she therefore turned away silently and supported herself by the bed-post. Emily went to her and said, "Oh, Grace, dear Grace, are you really distressed? don't you know I'm only in jest? Grace, do speak to me; why you are trembling so, you can hardly stand;" and she ran for a chair-" What can be the matter, Grace? do answer me; is it what I have said?"

"What did you mean?" said Grace, recovering herself as well as she could, and speaking very calmly, though some little girls, under her feelings, would have burst into a passion of tears, and almost gone into hysterics.

"Why I mean," said Emily, deceived by Grace's selfcommand, and returning to her usual high spirits, “I mean that I know as well as if I had heard it, that the ante-room was all your idea, and that Mary Anne has stolen the credit of it from you."

"Oh, Emily!" exclaimed Grace again.

"It is no use your pretending it is not so; I found it out of myself; I wondered at Mary Anne's taste, for she has none in the world, but I never doubted the truth till by chance I said that about its being your idea instead of hers; she coloured so much and looked so cold, I could not help remarking it; and some time after, when she upset the flowers, I was sure. Then I tried you both, and it was only your imploring look that prevented my exposing her; I should never have understood your look, you are such a strange girl, only you did just the same by Isabella the other day, in making me promise not to expose her folly and exaggerations."

"I did not know I looked at you," said Grace.

"But you did though, and I could have laughed, only you seemed so uneasy-more uneasy than Mary Anne, I think. But now, Grace," continued she, in a more serious tone, "you must confess it is as I say ;" and on Grace giving no answer, she added, "You may as well, for if you do not I will tell all the company in the middle of the evening, just as Mary Anne has got all the credit, for I know the anteroom will be greatly admired. Now, was it not your idea?" "Oh, Emily," cried poor Grace, "you are very cruel!"

"Confess!" said Emily, "who proposed the plan? did she?-only yes or no!"

No," sighed Grace.

"Did you?-I certainly will tell to-night," added Emily, seeing Grace's hesitation-" yes or no!"

"Yes," said Grace. "Now, Emily," she continued, recovering her spirit, "you have forced it from me unfairly, and you are bound to promise me to say nothing about it one way or other."

"I don't see that at all," said Emily; "do you think I can bear to see that shabby Mary Anne take all the credit? -she shall not."

"Well, then, you will destroy all the pleasure of my evening, and I do not think I shall ever be able to look Mary Anne in the face again."

Why, Grace, are you crazy?" said Emily, "you speak as if Mary Anne and you had changed places."

"Oh, no!"—think how poor Mary Anne will feel when it has all gone so far; and you know if I had meant to tell, I ought to have done it at first, and not let it go so long; you know Mary Anne never said it was her idea, every body would have it so, and I think I was as bad as she, for you know I told very nearly a story about it.-Oh, Emily, do have a little pity upon me! I do not think I can begin

dressing till you promise me."

But," said Emily, "it is worse and worse to go on; you know there is no end to it."

Grace had not thought of this, and she added to herself, "Yes, and Mary Anne is made more and more wrong." "Oh," said she, aloud, "what a shocking thing it is to take the first wrong step!"

"Yes, but now you can prevent Mary Anne from taking a third and fourth.

"I did not mean Mary Anne," said Grace. "Then, who?"

"Myself," replied Grace.

"You silly girl!" cried Emily, "what nonsense you are talking why, how could you help it?"

"I don't know," said Grace, despondingly, "but you see I am in such a situation that I cannot do right."

"What a strange girl you are, Grace," said Emily, “and how you seem to puzzle yourself about things; I never heard any body talk so much about right and wrong as you do."