all comfort in society at an end. You agree with me, I fancy," he added, bowing to Robert Arnott whom he perceived to be standing by and taking an interest in the conversation. "Will you give us your opinion concerning the Rights of Women-that much agitated subject just now?" Robert Arnott paused for an instant, then in a low tone, yet with a power and pathos which thrilled the hearts of his hearers and brought tears into the eyes, not only of Dora but of Camilla, delivered his sentiments in the following lines: "The Rights of Women-what are they? The right to labour and to pray; The right to comfort in distress; The right when others curse, to bless ; The right to love whom others scorn; The right to comfort all who mourn; The path in which the weak grow strong. "I think you, at least, will agree that the question could not have been more ably or more convincingly answered," said Captain Selby with emotion. The other young man was silent. Then Robert Arnott, turning to Camilla, shook hands with her, crossed the room to where Mrs. Townshend was standing, and was presently seen to leave the room. CHAPTER XXI. MRS. TOWNSHEND'S ADVICE. ANOTHER hour or two and all the guests were gone. Bushbank was wrapped in darkness, and Camilla had wearily retired to her room; but Mrs. Townshend, in spite of the exertion she had undergone, was ready to listen to all Dora had to relate. Seeing that the latter would not be satisfied without a little talk, before going upstairs, she dismissed the servants, who entered to close the shutters and put out the lights, desiring them to return for that purpose when all their other arrangements below were completed, and stretching herself on a sofa, Dora, seated beside her, told her tale, and received in return the warmest congratulations. Mrs. Townshend was truly one who could rejoice with those who do rejoice; and no circumstance could have given her greater pleasure than to hear of the dawn of happiness which was breaking forth for Dora and her lover, after their long course of obstacles and trial. No circumstance save one. There is a weak point in every heart; poor humanity will manifest itself as long as we possess earthly natures. She could not help wishing it had been her own daughter who had been beloved by Robert Arnott. Before he had taken the curacy of St. Catherine's and become attached to Dora, Mrs. Townshend used to picture him as what she should consider perfection for a husband for Camilla. So superior in intellectual attainments, he could not fail to interest her, she thought; so decided in his opinions; so firm in holding them; so upright, honourable, and kind in all his dealings; what a safe, true guide to her much cherished wayward child he might prove. And although, of course, all such ideas had come to an end long ago, and her sympathies had been most sincerely enlisted in Dora's cause, still just the slightest breath of a sigh now mingled with her felicitations; not because she grudged Dora the prize she had won, but because her strong maternal love had prompted the wish for Camilla, "that heaven had made her such a man.” And Mrs. Townshend could not help thinking, too, with perhaps the echo of that same faint sigh, how very seldom people got what they wanted. How gladly would she have accepted, how greatly valued, for a son-in-law, the man whom, even with his "new blown honours," Mrs. Freeling might still despise, because he lacked what she considered the one thing needful-family name and distinction. "It is indeed a strangely perverse, crotchety world we live in-everything in it going by contraries," Mrs. Townshend inwardly murmured; but she shook off all thought of self, buried in the depths of her loving soul all the vain wishes of the past, and talked to Dora with a readiness, a quiet eloquence, and a power of reasoning and of giving counsel which few possessed like her, as well as with a degree of earnest tenderness which augmented as she shrewdly perceived that, notwithstanding all the |