Year: 1867

ny winch HIS rug WdS SuSpeuucu, anu put
ii on her hand again, ,murmuring over to her
self, in prayerful spirit as she did so, it's
quaint poesy-" God send me well TO keep
God send me well to keep!'


Lois came presently to call her down to
tea, and after the healthy racket of it, while
the children went out to play, Mrs. Wynyard
invited her to speak of her visit by silently
taking up her had and looking at the ring.
"You under stand what il means?" said
Pennie, softly. SIT means that don't care
who knows now that love Mr.. Tindal, and
that shall be his wife some day-if I were
my own mistress it should be now"


"You speak out, Pennie. Perhaps it is
happy for you that YOU cannot carry youI
pity at once into practice. do not doubt
that you have strong feeling for Mr.. Tin
| dal, for the circumstances of your acquain-
tance were quite such as favour the growth
of u youthful passian; but, when You see a
little more Of men and of society, you will
find there are others pleasant as well as he,
though they may lack the charm of a great
calamity"


Mrs. Wynyard did not mean to be sarcas-
tic. She hit on that vein unawares, but
made no answer. She had resolved that
the fact of her wearing that ring must be
testimony enough of sentiment that deserved
to be respected and that as far as mortal
Of oil n ,nI,f 10 ~
without retort every insinuation and every
attack made on her because of the giver.-
Shc began by airing her little stern dignity
on anxious, heart-aching Mrs. Wynyard, and
it proved quite effcctual. That distressed
lady had no desire to wound her, ON desire
in the world, on her behalf, but that she
might be good and happy. Perceiving that
she had somehow spoken amiss, she judged
it wise TO let the subject drop, and only said
further, "You shall write to Mr. Wynyard
yourself, Pennie dear. You will be able to
put views in fairer light than I could posi-
bly, do; and then she left her, and went
out on the terrace before the house, where
her own children were at play.


Pennie had no fear of her absent guardian,
but when she thought Of the revelation that
must be made to her mother her heart was
like to fail her. 1t was already made if she
had but known Mr.. Hargrove had carried
the intelligence he had CLEANED at Eastwood
straight to Mayfield and the widow, amidst
her anger, had melted into tears to think her





doughter could have ridden to Rood, within
mile of home, without coming on to see
her. She ascribed the neglect, not to the
difficulty Pennie must have had in cutting
short her visit of Christian consolation to
one in misery, but to the few words they
had had in the Spring; and, full of this fear,
as soon as the lawyer was gone, she took
her pen and paper, and wrote off a letter to
Eastwood, very tender, remorseful, and
slightly incohercnt, which she sent over in
the morning by special messenger.


Ii came to Pennies hand before breakfast,
and drew few tears to her eyes. They had
begun to cut the grass in the low meadows
it said, and was she not going over for Q
week? She was not to think any more Of
those sharp words about her ring--it was
only her mothers way, and who loved hel
better? She had heard OF her being at the
Abbey, and thought it strange. Pennie
must remember she was her mother, and q
duty was laid on her to speak if she saw hel
going wrong. Finally she was to write by
the messenger when she would go to May
fofd tl.s. the bottor.


Pennie appeared at the breakfast-table
with this document in her hand, and laid it
before Mrs Wynyard, who asked her what
she wished to do Pennie said she wished
to go. That was conclusive. Mrs. Wyn-
yard had taken counsel with herself, and
had decided that it would be safest not to
thwart Pennie at present with any obvious
contradiction, lest she should be driven to
some sudden and irretrievable step. She
went to Mayfield the next day.


fro BE CONTINUED.