gave away pounds of tea, and stones of meal, and put the children to school; she read to the sick, and talked so kindly and sympathizingly to them, that they looked eagerly day by day for the gentle voice that knew so well how to comfort, little thinking how hardly the lesson had been learnt. "God bless thee, bairn, for coming!" was often the sweetest sound in the long, monotonous day.

Thus the winter months wore away.

After the Warings had left him, Gabriel heard the report respecting Helen and himself; it annoyed him much, and he begged Mrs. Graham, always his fast friend, to contradict it at Melton especially, and wherever else she might hear it. Mr. Graham took the opportunity of remonstrating very seriously* with William, on his treatment of Gabriel. This rumour false, which he had

so fully believed, why not others? William's conscience smote him as he lis tened, but he turned from the thought, repeating to himself all the old arguments against his friend, and laying up for himself a bitter store of repentance for the time to come. To Gertrude the news was life, bloom to her cheek, and light to her eye; for what possibilities might not be hidden in the future? Besides, he had not forgotten her.

Spring budded in all its hopefulness; summer bloomed in lavish beauty. The grouse-shooting, and the seaside excursion were over, and the fading autumn brought round again the time of year when Gertrude and Gabriel had exchanged their farewell words. All things were outwardly nearly the same. Miss Wentworth knitted her counterpane, and read her "Friendly Visitor," and rejoiced

in her heart, that she was not required to call a woodcutter's son, nephew. William had grown a golden moustache and beard, had been made a magistrate, and discoursed at dinner-parties of the measures "we" took about those poachers, and "the bad wine they gave us at the magistrates' dinner the other day;" and Gertrude still suffered. Gabriel suffered too,-not so much as she did. He had his parish duties, his writing, his books, and his hope of one day attaining to name and fame-he had thought and studied this year, had tried

"To follow knowledge, like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought."

He had other hopes and other aims, and -he was not miserable; though looking back to the dream of last year as the one

grace and happiness of his life, never to be replaced or forgotten.

The

It was a very severe winter that year, and when Christmas came, the ground was covered with frozen snow. The Meltons had promised to spend Christmas week at Reevesdale, where the usual family party had assembled, and they were to go there after church, on Christmas-day. night before, there was to be an evening party at Melton; all intimate friends, but, notwithstanding that, formidable to Gertrude; they had never attempted such an entertainment, but to please William she entered warmly into the idea, and arranged supper, music, and decorations to the best of her ability, aided by her recollections of Italian elegancies. Miss Wentworth was not much assistance; she

devoted her energies to hanging up curtains in every available doorway, to keep out the draughts, and to putting by all stray books and newspapers to make the drawing-room neat.

Gertrude put the finishing touch to her arrangements, looked at the white tarletane dress, and blue ribands, and graceful pearl ornaments for the evening, and then went out on the terrace, to gain a little freshness for the evening, from the frosty air. A path had been swept the length of it, and the white feathery snow lay in fantastic heaps on either side. With many wandering thoughts and fancies, she paced to and fro, looking over the country, wrapped in its solemn mantle of snow, and at the trees, each branch with its delicate burden-at the rosy light the dying sunshine