It was not a life of inward, if of outward, vulgarity. We adored pictures, and music, and beautiful things, and often went without food to get a taste of them. Yet, as I grew to be a woman, I hated the life. I longed for softness and refinement, as other women long for finery and admiration. Perhaps it was because I came of gentle blood-so they told me and the instinct of respectability was too strong for me. I felt like an alien, and I determined to elevate myself, some day or other, at any cost. I used to sit at home-a very Cinderella among the ashes--thinking, thinking; scheming, scheming. I had no gifts; that was the worst of it. I could act passably, but not well enough to go on the stage; I could sing and play a little, but had no musical instinct in me; I could not draw a line to save my life. My only natural gift seemed the art of acquiring popularity-I ought to say affection. People always liked me better than anybody else. It was as if, wherever I went, I exercised a magnetic influence; and this often without any volition of my own. If we were dunned by some hard-hearted grocer or butcher, I went to him and talked him into waiting for his money a little longer. There was a poor old Pole in our little colony, a teacher of languages, who would go without bread to buy me sweetmeats. If Mrs Cornford's pupils brought little gifts of flowers or fruit, they were always presented to me. When one of them, Laura Norman, asked me to stay at her father's house in the country, and I went, of course Dr Norman, who was a widower of forty-five, fell in love with me; and his son, a youth of nineteen, fell in love with me too; and I had no more sought their love than I had sought the love of the others at home. In an ill-advised moment I consented to become Dr Norman's wife, and if Myra had not offered me a home with her I should have married him; whether for good or evil I know not-I fancy for evil. You know how entirely Myra leaned upon me and looked up to me. I believe she would have given me the half of her fortune in her generous, impulsive affection; and we were as happy together as two women can be, when the only tie that binds them together is that of helplessness on one side and capability on the other.

S

Myra is a mere child, as you know, and it was not likely that we should have much in common. Then I came to know you, and just when I have grown fonder of you than of all these lovers of mine-I must go. To lose the others pained me chiefly on their account; but to lose you, who have been my companion, my teacher, my ideal, is like going into a strange land, where I should be of no more account than thousands of forlorn emigrants. It is very hard," Kitty said, sorrowfully; "so hard that it leads me to doubt whether things are always ordered for the best," and she broke into a vehement, indignant sob.

Just then Françine entered with a little lamp, and Kitty saw by the light of it that Ella was crying also. In a moment she was at her friend's side, holding her little hands, calling her by pet names, and begging her to be comforted in a dozen loving phrases.

"Oh! life is so short. It must not, must not be!" Ella said, at last. “If I am dear to you, are you less dear to me? Stay with us, dear Kitty, at least whilst you are happy."

"How can I stay?" Kitty cried. "Are you not a high-born lady? Am not I a gipsy, a pariah? Ah! you do not yet know all," she added, without looking at her friend's face. "Sir George has seen these old protectors and companions of mine. He will not think I ought to sit down to table with you after that."

"Kitty," Ella said, "now it is my turn to make a confession; and you would never guess how ignoble it is. When I think of my own capabilities of littleness, I hate myself. It was I who instigated papa to act as he has done; I did it with a good intention. I wanted to offer you a home with papa and me, as long as you might find it a happy one; and it seemed as if I had no right to make the offer unless I was quite sure that nothing stood in the way of your future happiness and security."

She leaned forward, so that her head rested on Kitty's shoulder, and added, in a penitent, pathetic voice

"Why can one's affections never be good and unselfish and unworldly-oh, why?"

"You wished me to stay with you always?" Kitty asked, breathlessly.

"Could anything else so good have happened to us both?" Ella said, with a sad smile. "You don't know how different papa's life and mine have been since you came to us. were often quite tired of each other's company before."

We

Kitty's heart beat fast, but she listened in silence. It was very sweet to her to be so praised by Ella.

"Rank does not naturally imply refinement," Ella went on in the same plaintive voice; ". you must have seen that for yourself; and littleness of every kind has been the bugbear of my life ever since I was a child. But there is no littleness in you that I could discover, and it breaks my heart to act meanly towards the person I most love and admire-in all the world," she cried, throwing her arms around her friend's neck. "O Kitty! why was I not also born a gipsy-as you call yourself?"

And she laughed and cried, and kissed Kitty as frantically as if that very moment they were going to be separated for ever and ever.

"Think what it would be for me to go back to a life without you! Women like me, who spend their days on the sofa, must live with women for the most part; and how dull they are! Oh, how dull they are! Fancy your poor Ella shut up with Constance Gardiner and her snails!"

The two girls laughed in the middle of their tears.

"Or with Madeleine and her dried plants," Ella went on, wiping her cheeks; "and they are exceptionally intelligent for the girls of my set, I assure you. There isn't anything like originality amongst them, poor things! Kitty, having fared sumptuously, I can't content myself with the crumbs that fall from the rich man's table. I can't go down from Kitty Silver to the Miss Gardiners."

"But, dear," Kitty said, very thoughtfully and gravely, "if you really care for me so much, there need be no question of pride between you and me. I was too proud to accept Dr Nor

man's home, since I could not love him; I was too proud to eat of Myra's bread without paying back in such kind as I could; but I care more for you than for both of these, and I will not be proud now. Let me stay with you as your hired servant in the eyes of the world; let me eat at a separate table ; let me play the dependant's part-I could do it easily-only let me stay. I must stay!"

Ella looked up, radiant with smiles and tears.

“As if I should accept such a sacrifice from you, you dear, generous, high-souled thing!" she cried, fervently. "But now I will tell you what I think it will be wisest for us to do. Having relieved our minds, we can afford to be happy again. Let us be happy for the present, and not take any trouble about the future. You understand what I mean," she said. "I'm determined that the happiness is to last, but I can do nothing till papa comes home. You are as free to act as the winds of heaven, but a girl living with her father is as dependent upon him as a baby."

"It is easy enough for me to be happy, now that I know how much you care for me," Kitty answered. "There is, after all, some consolation in being a social gipsy; one is liked for one's own sake, and one naturally likes others for the same reason."

Then she rose from her station by the sofa, and began the usual evening amusement of reading aloud as if nothing had happened.

CHAPTER XLV.

ANCHORED.

EVERYTHING went merry as a marriage-bell till Sir George's return, which event naturally changed the course of things. Ella was determined to keep Kitty, and Kitty was determined to stay; but Sir George must be umpire, and he was a very practical person concerning himself-not as they did, with

high feelings and noble sentiments-but with expediency and the material bearings of the question.

He and Ella had a great many talks without coming to any conclusion whatever. Sir George was shocked at Ella's want of prudence and common sense; at her recklessness in money matters; at her wilful opposition to the line of action he chalked out for her. Nothing could be more ladylike and sensible, he urged, than to show carefulness regarding the disposal of one's income; and Ella seemed determined to dispose of her income as carelessly as if she were a speculator.

"After all, my darling Ella," Sir George said, "I don't think you have adjusted the moral balance of the case as well as I have done. Every value in this world is a relative value; and let us be as fond of Miss Silver as we may, we are only justified in giving her what her gifts and accomplishments would gain for her elsewhere."

"O papa! as if I could think of Kitty in that way."

"You have never studied political economy, my dear, or it would come naturally to you. Society is made up of exchange, and each member is only entitled to give the real value of the thing he obtains. Now, our dear Miss Silver is a noble creature-I don't know another woman like her-but it will be a disadvantage to her through life that she comes of-well-of what class shall I say?-of the people? And in offering her a home under our roof, we are bound to take that fact into consideration."

Ella's heart was swelling with indignation, but she loved her father too well, and was too used to such displays of feeling on his part, to take offence.

She merely said, colouring painfully whilst she spoke"Dear papa, we are only concerned with Kitty herself." "Oh! my dear, you wouldn't feel so about it if you had seen what I have seen."

And as Sir George recalled poor Polly Cornford's wellintended cordiality, he shrugged his shoulders. "That woman actually asked me to take a glass of Hollands!"

"But, dearest papa, we are not taking Mrs Cornford to live