had been hers, his children had been her pleasure, and their interests had become her own. This was all changed now. Dick, and Alice, and Ernie, and Gerty, no longer stood in the same relation to her as formerly, and before many days were over Nesta learned that, according to Mr. Stanley's will, Uncle Tom was to be their guardian. A few weeks ago, such a loss would have fallen less heavily upon her; she had then still the hope of Hugh's return, and the consolation that another year or month or even week might bring him to her.

She almost wished sometimes that she could lie down too and die. It was a very foolish wish, but poor human nature is a frail, foolish thing left by itself, and sorrow takes away at first all power to receive help elsewhere. In time, she saw things differently, and the poor woman's gilded motto became hers, and even the happiness based upon it, and the life which she could no longer consecrate to duty and love to earthly objects, she consecrated to God; and learned that His love is better

than any other, and is more diffusive in its

blessings.

To the children the news of their future home came with little pain; the thought of leaving Aunt Nesta was swallowed up in that of going to England, and of enjoying the fabulous pleasures which before were to have been Dick's alone. Uncle Tom arrived, and there was the delight of mystery and the bustle of preparation : it was decreed that Rosa was to accompany them, and it was not till the last day came, and they had to bid Aunt Nesta goodbye, that the vision of happiness connected with Stanley Hall began to fade away.

They were a tearful little party, in spite of everything, when they set out with Uncle Tom on their way to England.

CHAPTER XVII.

CHILDHOOD'S TROUBLES.

'O little hearts! that throb and beat

With such impatient, feverish heat,

Such limitless and strong desires! '—Longfellow.

THE school-room at Stanley Hall was a pleasant, cheerful room. It was at the top of the house, out of reach of everything that was going on elsewhere, and the windows looked over charming pleasure grounds, sloping down to the river that ran through them. The room was untidy and bore the marks of lessons being nearly over; a square piano at one side of the room, at right angles with the windows, was open, and books of all kinds and descriptions were lying in confusion on the table.

'Have you nearly done, Gerty?' said a little fellow standing by the window, and

looking down on the allurements below; 'you have been a whole quarter of an hour over that one sum.'

'I shall never have done it, if you talk so,'

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said the little girl addressed; there, I have tried three times to prove it, and it won't come right; it's all right but the last figure but one, and that ought to be 9 instead of 0.'

The inexorable governess made no remark. The sum had been set, and the sum was to be done, and Gerty was an idle little girl— this had been said so often that morning, that it was no use saying it again.

The little auburn head bent over the hard slate; I am not sure that a tear did not drop and wipe out the faulty figure, but Miss Smith did not see it if it did. I dare say she was right; only some elder people, knowing what sorrow life brings with it, think that childhood should be made very sunny and bright, and their hearts ache at children's

tears.

'I know what I wish,' said the boy at the window.

'Oh, don't, Ernie. I'm coming soon; there, I have done it wrong again, if you will talk so.'

'You don't know at all what I wish,' said Ernie; it's quite different to what you think. I wish,'—and he muttered very softly, 'that Aunt Nesta were here, and

and his voice sunk to a whisper as if he were

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talking to himself, Papa and mamma as they used to be. Alice says we are not a bit naughtier than we used to be, and now we are always in trouble.'

Miss Smith heard the little fellow's lament; it did not make her softer or kinder.

She

had her own bread to get, as she often said, and people didn't expect a governess to spoil children; if she did as she liked, she would coax them and love them, but then she received her hire for something else.

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There, I have done,' cried Gerty in a voice of triumph, and for the moment all the tears and tribulation of that morning were forgotten in the present pleasure of digging the golden sand that formed the river-bed.