result; for though she knew the excellent principles and disinterested feelings of her niece, she also knew the weakness of the human heart, when it is forcibly assailed; and especially of the female heart, when it is assailed through the affections. Her suspense was not long: Eliza's determination was promptly made; though it was evident, when she brought her answer to her cousin's letter to show her aunt, that it had cost her much.

"I hope," she said, "I have learnt, though by rather painful teaching, a valuable lesson. Like Edward, inclination has misled me, though in a different way. It was, I believe, my warm early friendship for my dear cousin Anna before she went to India, and the interesting communications she has since sent us from that country, which led my imagination so often there, and made it the scene of all my visions of future life. I fancied I should prefer this sphere of doing good to every other, though I never mentioned it, thinking it, perhaps, presumptuous to imagine myself qualified for it; and, since the death of my beloved mother, I have endeavoured to banish these imaginations, as nothing but the clearest indications of duty, joined to my father's wish, would induce me to leave him now. My cousin's society has, however, strongly revived this early wish; and, prematurely interpreting and anticipating events according to my fancy, I have sinfully allowed my heart and my imagination to be so engrossed, that my present and obvious duties are become dull and uninteresting."

"I could save

A strong predilec

"I wish, my love,” replied her aunt, you from the pain which this experimental lesson may occasion. It is dangerous to create for ourselves in imagination what we are wisely prevented from doing in reality—our own sphere of benevolence, however large and important, or even in some respects self-denying, that sphere may be. It leads us to waste in reveries of the future, the time and ingenuity which might be most profitably employed upon the present, in the situation in which providence has placed us. tion for a particular sphere may, and intended to prepare the mind for it; events only can make this certain; and we may be indulging a selfish enthusiasm, while we fancy we are consecrating ourselves to an important service. In dreaming of what we will do, we may forget what we have to do. I do not believe this has been the case with you, my dear Eliza, for I have never observed you have neglected any present duties."

no doubt often is, but the course of

"I fear, my dear aunt, I have—at least I have been in great danger of it; but I trust I shall in future endeavour diligently to cultivate the field around me, rather than indulge my imagination in vain anticipations of a wider one."

66

Yes, my love, and try to abandon self-will in all things. Believe that the situation and sphere in which you are placed is certainly best for you at present; and we need not complain that it is a narrow one, if we embrace every opportunity that occurs to us of diffusing X 2

happiness, and endeavour to do some good to every one with whom we come in contact."

In the course of the day Mr. Mulgrave came to seek Mrs. Cecil's sympathy. He acquiesced in disappointment, though he could not yet "smile" at it. He had had a long and confidential conversation with his cousin, in which he said she had most kindly and eloquently represented how much pleasure was to be found from following our duty, while she added, that if by concealing his former attachment in India, he had succeeded in obtaining her hand, he would infallibly have lost much of her esteem, if she had afterwards discovered what she would have deemed very ungenerous and dishonourable conduct.

He left the hall the next day, and before his return home Lucy's father died. The many proofs which his sister related of her friend's faithful attachment to him, notwithstanding the solicitations of more wealthy and distinguished admirers, and of the pleasure she expressed in being able, through the fortune she now possessed, to restore to him in some measure the advantages he had relinquished for the sake of religion, speedily revived his former preference, and convinced him that there was more than one woman in the world with whom it was possible to be happy.

If the loftier talents and virtues were not, in Mr. Mulgrave's character, combined with a lively imagination and warm affections, as we sometimes see them in more perfectly balanced minds, his many engaging qualities won the ardent friendship of all the family he had left,

and the separation produced a very pensive day—“ Even,” Sophia said, "the very flowers hung down their heads, as if they were sorry." A circumstance of rather an exciting nature, however, soon diverted their thoughts into another channel.

CHAPTER ΧΧΧ.

DISINTERESTED PATRIOTISM.

In the course of the day, a deputation of several highly respectable gentlemen of the neighbourhood waited on Mr. D'Arcy, to inform him that one of the county members was about to retire from Parliament, in consequence of ill health, and to request he would allow himself to be put in nomination as a candidate. The proposal startled him. Though a genuine patriot, he had never thought of serving his country as a legislator. This arose partly, perhaps, from his having reached the meridian of life before those intolerant statutes, excluding Dissenters from all posts of honour and profit, which remained so long a blot upon justice and true policy, were repealed. The ambition for distinction, which he found it so difficult to subdue in the early period of his piety, had happily given place to higher ends and nobler motives, yet he was afraid there were latent sparks, which the exciting elements of political life would rekindle. In benevolence displayed at home, and quiet philanthropy abroad, he had found a homage far dearer than that of fame-the homage of the heart. To relinquish much domestic enjoyment, and lose the pleasure of watching over the various plans he had put in opera