she could not whisper gentle hints into his ear; but he looked at her very significantly. He was a good preacher, moreover, and sooner or later would make a mark, as Dr. Hervey assured her. With her aid, what height might he not attain? She gained her room, and deliberated long upon the question. Then she reached out her desk, selected the paper which bore the crest of her family, and wrote the following epistle :

"MY VERY DEAR FRIEND, - Though our friendship has reached a point when I might well address you by your Christian name, my pen still refuses to write it. I feel as if I must receive your sanction for so endearing a familiarity. Yet David is a very dear name to me. I wonder if men are as susceptible to the dread of making too close advances as women like myself are? I can very well imagine that when a young man, however worthy, looks up to a woman who occupies a prominent position, either for her rank, her wealth, or her piety, he may say to himself, 'Ah! such a being is not for me!' The less worthy of your sex are more adventurous. Under a pretext of friend

ship Carl Bramwell advanced so near to me that he had well nigh gained his point, had not the snare been broken, and I had escaped. How thankful I am now that he did not win upon me by his specious eloquence! I never knew till of late the difference between real and fictitious merit. Since I have known you my eyes have been opened indeed! Your last letter lies before me: every word in it a precious and polished gem; they come from your heart to my heart.

"I wonder if you can understand that we are equals. If I possess advantages denied to you, on the other hand Providence has bestowed upon you gifts mysteriously withheld from me. I acknowledge this. Dear David, your intrinsic merit makes you too lowly in your own eyes. You could never be guilty of the presumption of Carl Bramwell; yet it would be no presumption in you. You are the true gold; he is only the glittering bauble.

Oh,

I am afraid you will misunderstand me! Shall I tear up this letter which I have written with a throbbing heart and tearful eyes? No. You may still be saying to yourself, 'Such a being is not for me!' You would be a help

onward

How I

indeed to me on the upward and path. How I should lean upon you! would assist you to the best of my poor abilities! My father has a great regard for you. He asked me-me-the other day why you did not marry. I could give him no satisfactory reply. Shall I ever be able to do so?

"It would never strike your disinterested mind to inquire into my worldly circumstances. If I should ever marry without my father's approbation, I should even then be blessed with £500 a year in my own right. But my father has often urged me to select a partner for life, and leaves my choice unbiassed. Until now I could not make up my mind. It is made up now. I shall marry but one being, or remain for ever single. If you wish to know his name, I will tell you in my next letter.

"Oh, I am very much afraid that you will misunderstand me! I shall await your reply in great agitation. Do not prolong it, my very dear friend. Send me but a word, a line, by the bearer.

"Yours for ever,

"SOPHIA W.”

Miss Waldron was satisfied with her effusion, and slept soundly after it. In the morning she despatched her missive by a footman, who received orders that the carriage was to take him and his weighty packet to the lodgings of Mr. Scott, and wait until an answer was ready. She partly hoped that he would catch the hint, and return to her in the carriage; but only a short note was brought back. She opened it, and read it with unutterable emotions.

to a

"DEAR MISS WALDRON,-I understand you quite well. Unluckily I am engaged to cousin in Glasgow, who would not give me up, I am sure. I shall keep your letters as a mark of your esteem. Believe me,

"Yours faithfully,

"DAVID SCOTT."

David Scott was wise in his generation. No troubles disturbed his relations with his church; and though Miss Waldron was distant she was always deferential. He married his cousin in due time, and they were received as formal visitors at Aston Court. Miss Waldron continued to shed a bright and unwearied light upon the little church at Little Aston.

CHAPTER XXIV.

LAST WORDS.

HESTER'S Sorrow for Lawson was very real, but it hung over her present happiness only as a thin cloud shadows a bright sky. They told her that his sudden death had been long impending; and though they did not show her the confession he had written, Carl said he had owned to being guilty of those acts of violence and revenge which they had all attributed to her father. Carl had still a few days to stay at Little Aston, days of a quiet but profound gladness; and then he went back to his charge in London, whom he astonished by a happy and buoyant eloquence in his sermons which they had not remarked in them before.

Rose lingered through the winter, dying so slowly and peacefully that it could scarcely be called death—" the hours gliding by with down. upon their feet.” A gleam of her old lightheartedness returned now and then, with a pathetic beauty in it; the feebleness of her smiles, and the faint ripple of laughter from her lips