change. Only he grieved sincerely at the thought of parting from Honor, and often urged her to accompany them.

Mr. Goodenough joined his persuasions, adding to them the promise of 'finding her a husband in six months.'

But Honor was obstinate, and said that she would remain in England, supporting herself by her own exertions.

Conny and her mother were too busy now to be much troubled by her resolve. One of the immediate results of Conny's engagement was the removal of the whole family, at Mr. Goodenough's expense, to a large hotel at the West End, from whence the bride-elect and her mother made daily pilgrimages to milliners' and outfitters' shops, and filled their rooms with the fruits of their selections.

Honor removed to the hotel with them, unwilling to part from Newton till the last, and making herself very useful by packing for the whole party; but she engaged for herself for the future a small lodging in the neighbourhood of her tuitions, and as soon as the holidays were over, she went daily as usual to attend on her pupils, causing much terror to Conny lest

the servants of the hotel might divine the cause of her sister's absences.

These people, as she might have guessed, knew and cared so little about the strangers who passed and repassed through that colossal establishment, that all recollection of the Blake family was entirely obliterated a fortnight after the excitement caused by Conny's gorgeous wedding; and it happened, a month or so later, that friends who there sought some clue to Honor's new abode, sought it in vain.

Honor would accept no money from her future brother-in-law, but to please Conny she suffered herself to be suitably arrayed at his expense for the wedding.

bridesmaid this time,

'It was not my fault

It was poor Spencer I wonder why; for in

'You must be my Honor,' said her sister. you were not last time. would not hear of it. general he never contradicted me in those days. But he seemed quite savage when I proposed it, and I am sure there is nothing in you to make any one dislike you, though you are ugly, poor old Honor!'

CHAPTER XIII.

C

ALONE.

ONNY'S wedding was as magnificent as it could be without the element of a party of distinguished guests.

That element Conny was, perhaps, more willing to forego, as the bridegroom was not a person of whose speech or appearance the most loving spouse could be very proud.

They were married in St. George's Church, Hanover Square, and after the ceremony the happy pair proceeded to Brighton for a week, during which Honor enjoyed a farewell time of quiet with Newton.

Then Conny and her husband returned to London, the last finishing touches were put to her momentous business of packing. Those precious colossal cases, whose contents were destined to fill the Australian female world

with envy

and admiration, were safely shipped, and the travellers followed.

Honor parted with more kindly feeling than she had once believed possible, from her rough, generous brother-in-law, who promised her to take good care of her mother and brother-and kept his word; her mother and Conny kissed her affectionately, with some dim, late sense of all her goodness; Newton was deeply affected; and Honor, with swelled eyes, and a sad lonely weight at her heart, returned to their hotel for her boxes, and drove to the small house, a room in which was to be henceforth her solitary home.

Her pride of independence was nearly all gone that evening, when she sat down in the comfortless lodgings she had now no object in making cheerful. With only herself to enjoy it, she seemed to have no heart to do more than furnish her life with necessaries.

And this was to be her future existence ! she thought. To live only to support her own weary life! Better perhaps have given up her pride, and gone to Australia with poor Newton.

Some weeks passed, during which Honor pursued her solitary round of daily lessons and evening loneliness in a manner almost mechanical.

She sometimes wondered what it was made her so heavy and listless—why she could not enjoy a holiday in Kensington Museum, or even a new book, as of old.

Was it altogether because she was aloneor was it because her head ached so very often -because her long neglected and outraged physique was about to have its revenge?

At last there came a day when Honor, with throbbing head and fevered hands, could scarcely see to write a few lines to Miss Chillingham, and the parents of her other pupils, begging them to excuse her present attendance on plea of illness.

These notes she begged the girl who waited on her to post. She forgot to add any address to them.

Most of her pupils were quite indifferent as to the sickness or health of their French mistress, but Miss Chillingham would have gone to ask after Honor, had she known where to