Mr. Laneton almost despised his daughter for a simpleton.

"You must know," he said, "that the bienséances of society require the use of expressions a little exaggerated. Even if you do not like Miss Haughton, my wishes ought to have some weight with you. I desire this visit solely for your own good; for I really think her lively society would rouse your spirits. You would certainly be improved if you possessed a little of her manner and animation."

"We do not suit each other," Una replied coldly. "She would disturb me, and I should probably offend her. She is, I know, one of those who think that not to leave undone, but to keep unknown,' should be the rule of conduct. I cannot respect her."

Mr. Laneton was getting angry. He had taken up the day's paper, and fixed his eyes upon it, that he might the better affect indifference.

"I hope, Una," he said, in measured tones, "that as your guardian, if not as your father, you will allow me to be a proper judge of the persons fit for your society. I am afraid you are beginning to presume on my indulgence. I now require you"

At this moment the door softly opened; he looked up, and beheld the skirt of Una's dress as she retired from the room. He was about to recall her; but he checked himself, considered for a moment, and then smothered his vexation in a laugh at her folly.

"I must not be conquered in this way, though," he said; and, ringing the bell, he ordered Mrs. Heartsbane to be summoned.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Spiritual pride is the worst of all prides; it is a very bad species of a very bad passion.-STERNE.

I HAVE introduced this lady to my readers before, but in a very inadequate manner; and while Mr. Laneton is waiting her presence-for she was one of the Mansion-house Committee for promoting female emigration, and was at the moment busily employed in making up a bundle of flannel petticoats for the first ship-load of girls destined to proceed to New South Wales— I will endeavour to supply the deficiency, and do her justice.

She was a lady of most admirable temper. She was never known to be in a passion, though she was often very much provoked. Indeed she was convinced that she suffered under a Satanic system of continued persecution, which nothing but grace could enable her to

bear with the meekness she did. Having a high opinion of her spiritual importance, she was satisfied that every little cross, every petty annoyance she sustained, were recorded by an avenging angel, in a heavenly folio with huge brass clasps, kept expressly to register all the insults and injuries she was doomed to suffer during her earthly pilgrimage. Good, pious soul! she forgave from her heart, as she often boasted, all her persecutors, enemies, and slanderers; and every Sunday repeated that petition in the Litany with peculiar unction. But whether Heaven would do so, was more than she could tell. By the shaking of her head, it was plain she scarcely thought such a stretch of mercy was consistent with the justice of Heaven.

The reader may wonder how it happened that a respectable maiden lady-holding very little commerce with the world-could have so many enemies, and be so cruelly persecuted. Perhaps it was, that knowing herself to be one of the elect, she was wrathful at not finding her claims to superiority on that account generally admitted, as a sullen prince in exile treasures up every neglect of his royal dignity, to be amply revenged there

after. Her religion was not of that kind which softens and humbles the heart by a consciousness of infirmity. She called herself a sinner, in the same spirit that a Hildebrand washes the feet of beggars. In her heart spiritual pride had been the sole growth of religious profession; and this rank and poisonous weed had so usurped the place of more wholesome and benignant dispositions, and so stupified her conscience, that it sank into a sleep near to the sleep of death.

In her young days, when, as she was accustomed to relate-while dilating on the grace which had saved her-she was no better than the rest of the world, she resided with a brother to whom she was greatly attached. He, as men will do, foolishly fell in love, and, without much consideration of future difficulties, married the woman of his choice. Priscilla never forgave either of them. She prophesied their ruin; and had the supreme felicity of living to see her prophecy accomplished. The husband, borne down by the cares of a large family, and by unsuccessful trade, forgot his pride in his necessities, and petitioned his sister for assistance. She had thriven wonderfully— for she understood the art, and had suc