The Sun.
London, England, 1865-04-08 00:00:00

you so."

Lady Villars shook her well-arranged little head reso.
Eutely.

" I'm sorry you've permitted yourself to be made a tool
of," said she. Then she turned her head slightly over her
shoulder, fixed an obedient sister with her cool blue eyes,
and whispered in a tone that was not intended to reach,
and that did not reach Bella's ear—" Stop Florry frAm
coming."

"A tool of !" Bella repeated the words warmly. She
had anticipated its being such easy work, as far as the
Villarses were concerned. The sole difficulties she had
foreseen had been with Stanley and' her husband.
" A tool of ! you don't understand---"
Lady Villars stopped her with an ejaculation.
Good gracious ; 'show cruelly have you been imposed
on!" she cried. "We know all about it—the whole
story."

" And you're leaving him to live if he can, and die if he
must ?" Bolla asked it with a biting scorn, that made

Lady Villars tingle. " You can't know the whole story

your brother has struggled till he can struggle no longer;
don't stay to think whether he has been to blame or not,

but help him up again."

"I am sure you mean well," Lady Villars replied, in the
tone evil-disposed people use to little children when wrath

is in possession of the latter ; "but you are so dreadfully
mistaken. It's shameful of Stanley—it's the worst thing I
have heard of him yet—to have let you mix yourself up
with the matter !"

"Won't you see his wife 2"
His wife, Mrs. Walsingham !"
" Won't you send his brother to him ?—there's his ad-
dress ;" she forced a card, on which she had written down
the name and number of the street in which Stanley lived,
into Lady Villars' unwilling hand.

" Sir. Gerald will please himself about going," Lady
Villars replied, adjusting her fair plump face and insignifi-
cant features as severely as she could ; " but as a married
man, I should hope he'd have the good taste to keep clear
of a den of profligacy!

" You do not believe what you are saying, Lady Villars!
You are trying to harden your own heart with phrases."
" I am striving to savo myself from being influenced by
unhealthy sham emotions," Lady Villars roplidod spite-
fully. .

"Lot me see Florence !" Bella urged, not heeding the
insinuation.

The third sister, who had remained quiescent during the
interview, now rose, and said she would "go and look for
Florry." Presently she came back. "Florence is not

come home," she said.

Bella gave vent to an impatient exclamation.
" She is out, you tell me, now ; but will you tell her
what I came about when she comes home ?"
Lady Villars paused for an instant or two before she
answered ; then she said—

t, You can hardly be serious Mrs. Walsingham, in wish-
ing to bring Miss Villars into communication with her

brother's mistress ;• if you choose to risk your own reputa-
tion so recklessly, I must ask you to consider Miss
Villarsi."

"No woman's reputation will be endangered by inter-
course with the poor young girl Stanley has married, to
their mutual cost-"

" Married !" Lady Villars struck in scoffingly. "Really,
Mrs. WaLsingham, if you persist in showing yourself all

- ,
over Louden with her, I must beg that you will not again
subject me to the insult of having that creature seen at my

door. I wonder Major Walsingham permits it—if he
knows anything about it !"
She added this last clause suddenly, on seeing Bella

wince when surprise at her husband's "permitting it" was
expressed. It was a very telling volley. It routed the
already nearly exhausted enemy.
_ _

"My husband will judge for himself, Lady Villars."
"And I will judge for myself in this matter," Lady
Villars replied. She was very much afraid that Florence
might perhaps escape from her guileless detainers, and
come down and find Bella, when the whole thing would
explode in an explanation.

Bella Vane and Florence Villars, Claude Walsing-
ham and Stanley, are the centres of a brilliant
throng of minor heroes and heroines, all more or
less skilfully depicted. The readers of "On
Guard" will agree with us that the fair writer has
in this work fully justified the most favourable
promises of her earlier productions. We would
advise her, however, not to be too eager to reap the
laurels of popularity. In these volumes, in her very
vivid description of the sufferings of the overworked
author, she betrays a fatal familiarity with the con-
sequences of over-brain work, and, in fact, exclaims,
after enumerating " the singing in his ears, the
pain at the back of his head, &c.,"—" All you who
can write can comprehend his sensations." If, as
appears probable, the fair authoress speaks from
personal experience, we would certainly exhort her,
who exhorts others, to be "on guard" herself. We
whisper this caution while we congratulate her upon
the successful issue of her last literary undertaking.