ment, though none of the firmness had faded from her own manner, as she replied,

"I must again repeat that I have not the slightest reason suppose that Mr. Mornington regards me with any other than a friendly interest. But had I never seen him, it would still have been my wish to decline the addresses of Mr. Elderfield. I am grateful to him for his kind thoughts of a poor friendless girl-very grateful; but I have not those feelings towards him which can alone justify a woman in surrendering her happiness to the keeping of another. Marriage is not a thing of establishments and equipages, but a dedication of two hearts who are sensible of each other's worth, and willing to be a mutual comfort and solace during their pilgrimage on earth, in the hope of an eternal reunion in the blessed mansions of heaven."

This definition of matrimony was Greek to the ears of Mrs. Percival; and as she was not blue enough to have studied Greek, it followed that she did not understand it. She continued to dilate at great length on the worldly advantages of Frank Elderfield's offer-advantages which, to her eyes, included all others, as the genus includes all the species; and she finally terrified poor Clara by an announcement, that as she seemed to have set her heart upon Charles Mornington, she would allow him one more chance of explaining himself, and would take care, when he next called, that there should be no want of opportunity. If he came forward, they should be able to see what his offer was; and, of course, should know how to treat it if, as she was sure, he did not, she should take the liberty of asking him what he meant hy dangling about there; not only omitting to take advantage of his position himself, but keeping those aloof who would propose, and offer their settlements at once, as straightforward men ought to do.

The appalled Ciara, completely subdued by this last declaration, employed all the eloquence of her entreaties, and even of her tears, to procure its retraction. She even promised not to offend Mr. Elderfield-to do anything but pointedly encourage his suit so that she might not be degraded in the eyes of Charles Mornington. Mrs. Percival, however, who saw the advantage she had gained, declined to part with it, and refused to give any further pledge for her future conduct than might be drawn from the remark-"We shall see what he does. I have had my eye on him for some time, and I know what he ought to do."

(To be continued.,

SELF-DECEPTION;

OR,

THE HISTORY OF A HUMAN HEART.

CHAPTER LXII.

Or all the letters which Ella had ever written in her life, that which she dispatched to Hanley Park was the one which most required an immediate answer, and which would seem most likely to call such an answer forth. Besides other matters of vast importance, it contained intelligence of the issue of that long watched for trial, which had interested the whole neighbourhood, and on which hung, as it would seem, almost the very existence of the being whom it chiefly concerned. It was a sad letter, for it extinguished the last ray of hope, and destroyed the last foundation of that frail fabric to which the solitary being in question had clung, as a shipwrecked mariner clings to the sole remaining fragment of the vessel which has gone down for ever. The intelligence which this letter conveyed was the more distressing, and the more difficult to bear, that justice. seemed not to have been exercised; that opinion bore strongly against the decision of the court; that the successful party was already well established, and flourishing in circumstances, while the disinherited son was an almost friendless wanderer on the face of the earth.

All this was very gloomy intelligence for Ella to communicate, and yet the letter contained this, and more. It contained the intelligence of the result of the trial-so gently told-told only as gentle woman could tell it, that the person most implicated in the facts might almost read it without knowing that he was a beggar, and an outcast, in consequence. But because of the very gentleness, the healing, the balm-the inexpressibly soothing means which the writer had adopted for softening the blow, the letter had the more need to be answered immediately.

It was no fault of Arthur Grahame's that the footman at Hanley Park did not place the letter in his hands at once. Whatever fault there was on his side, consisted in his being at Hanley Park at all, under such circumstances. But in this he only followed the natural bent of a character with which Ella was sufficiently well acquainted, to have prevented either surprise or disappointment. And yet-and yet, the result was different from what she had anticipated; for she sat alone at Lowbrooke cottage, and he came not. Days, weeks, passed over, and he came not. She consulted maps, and calculated posts-did everything but write again, for there could be no second edition to that letter. The days grew longer, the nights more endless in duration-and yet he came not.

How often did Ella, in her silent, speechless waiting, wish that she had been more frank with Arthur Grahame in the early stages of their acquaintance, and had told him how her property was to pass into other hands, if ever she entered into a second marriage. She thought he knew it, at least she hoped so. She would have felt sure that he knew it, only for one style of extravagant expression which was wont to burst from his lips; but as she had recently strictly forbidden him to address her as a lover, these expressions had not been repeated, except in his letters. It was a romantic wish that she was poor as himself, or, as he should be, if the trial went against him; for he had a favourite scheme, which in his letters only he had dared to clothe in words, that Ella and he should set out for some distant colony, where, of course, every happiness would be awaiting them, such as truth and tenderness, when drawn upon by a young imagination, can afford.

Under this view of the future he scrupled not to say that he wished-longed-prayed, that the trial would go against him; only that there still remained one obstacle-Ella's real or supposed property. He could not be so selfish, so ungenerous, so mean, as to escape from the country laden with her gold, as well as blessed by her companionship. No; he called on everything good and holy to witness the truth of what he said,

when he repeated again, and again, that he wished she was poor, and friendless as himself, that he might kneel at her feet, on something more like equal terms. Without this equality, he could not, and he would not-he had not the selfish meanness to do so. Even if the happiness was freely offered him, he thought he could not deprive her of one earthly comfort for his sake-much less of all she must lose in linking her destiny with his.

All this sounded very convincing to Ella, as she read letter after letter, full of expressions of a similar nature; and all tended the same way, shewing that while the writer knew nothing of the actual circumstances of the case, it would really be rather a relief to his mind, than a disappointment, to find that there was that equality he prayed for, or something much more like it than he seemed ever to have anticipated, and that she could become his wife on no other condition than that of becoming almost as poor as himself.

But here was another difficulty. No generous man, particularly so generous, disinterested, and noble, as Arthur Grahame, could ask of any woman that she should become a beggar for his sake. If Ella should choose now to reveal what those conditions were on which alone she could ever marry, that of itself would place a barrier betwixt them for ever. There was one alternative, it required something like heroism to make choice of, and act upon it. But women are heroic sometimes—yes, often heroic; only alas! it is not always in a worthy cause.

Oh! if the deep silence of nature could find a voice to tell-if the watchful stars could tell-if the salt sea waves, or the stormy cliff where women wave their last farewell, could tell if the flowers on the accustomed path where faithful feet have long time trod could tell-if the still chamber where silent tears have fallen, fallen night by night, could tell-if the lighted hall where beauty blazes under the false glitter of gold and gems could tell-if the solitary hearth, where the white ashes lie deep, and the dim spark dies out at early dawn, could tell-if the heart itself could tell-the great high heart of woman, as it

glows and beats, when she disrobes herself of all the poor conventionalities of artificial life, and is in thought and deed a heroine-if all these could tell the utter waste and shipwreck which she makes of what is best and noblest in her nature, casting it beneath the feet of those who heed it not; a sister's tears would not weep alone over this vast expenditure for worse than nothing; but all the hitherto dumb elements of nature would awake, and cry-"beware-beware how you begin to idolise a thing of clay, that never can repay-worse still, that never can appreciate the mighty sacrifice which costs you more than life to make."

And after all, man is not naturally more ungrateful than woman, only render him a real service. For woman's heroism he is unquestionably ungrateful, because he neither understands nor values it, except in cases where it serves his purpose, and then it is the benefit derived from it, not the act itself, which he is thankful for. So far he is consistent. A handful of solid comfort has more worth for him than a mine of sparkling gems for which he has no use. A household of peace, he values at a higher rate, than the explosion of a whole volcano of feeling. If beauty charms him, it is one condition of that charm enduring that it shall not trouble him. He has trouble enough in his business, in his ambition, in his struggles amongst other men; why should he be troubled with the heroic sentiment of woman, when at the best he does not understand it.

No. It is this strong conviction, derived from knowledge of the world, and its ways, which awakens in the mind that has long conversed with human nature under various forms, an indescribable yearning-even like the yearning of a mother, or a sister, towards all who are setting out in life with these high gifts of woman's nature, believing they will find some chosen field for the culture and employment of such gifts, and in the end an over-payment of delight." We would say to the young learner, in this wisdom of the world-" Never!" It is not in the nature of things that it should be so. rational happiness is free to all.

All that is essential to a All that is essential to the