I see no one distinctly until I stand by Lord Elston, and then I look up and see the face of the old clergyman who is to unite us so irretrievably; his blind grey eyes shine gently down upon us. How little does he guess that the lives that he is binding together will be made up of years of misery and pain. I have promised, in a faltering voice, to take Richard for better or worse until death do us part; I have repeated the rest of the service, but have skipped, as nurse suggested, the word "love."

The golden circlet is on my finger, the register has been signed, and I am walking down the aisle on my husband's arm.

Deafening are the cheers which greet us as we leave the church, for Richard, if not loved, is feared by his tenants, and is a just, though exacting master.

I try to smile upon the numerous villagers, but the tears will come as my eldest and favourite Sunday school pupil steps forward and gives me a bouquet of the sweet wild flowers she knows I love so well, and which her loving hands have gathered early this morning while

others slept. grave as we pass. "Yes! darling," I say softly, "I am glad you are resting peacefully unconscious of the sorrow that is in store for the only child you love, and would that she were resting gently by you, gone to her eternal rest, pure and unspotted from the world.

I take a short look at mother's

The guests are gathering for the breakfast when I first notice a woman dressed in the brightest of bright purple gowns, which dazzling garment is covered by a Nottingham lace shawl; her bonnet is composed of a perfect flower garden of artificials, every colour of the rainbow helping to compose the scrap of millinery that so inadequately conceals the bright red hair upon which it is perched. She is hanging on my father's arm, and they are talking most earnestly together. As they approach me I hear her say, "So this is your dear gal; well I 'ope 'er and Maria will prove great friends."

Before I can imagine what she may mean, my father addresses me in a most unsteady voice "Mable," he says, hesitatingly, "I thought I could not find a more suitable time than the present occasion to tell you that this lady, Mrs.

Albert Jones, has promised me to become my wife, and fill the vacant place you will leave behind."

"Yes! my dear," interrupts the future bride, "I'ave, and proud I shall be to be your dear par's wife, and I 'ope I shall make him 'appy. I 'ave plenty of the 'needful,' and he is welcome to every penny.'

I answer not one word; how can I? This one thought seems to chase all others away-is this vulgar woman to sit in my mother's chair, and occupy her rooms? Oh, God! I thought, I was as wretched as I well could be before, but this is indeed another bitter drop in the cup of sorrow that seemed so nearly full.

66

Come, Mable, the breakfast is ready," says my husband, and for once I hear his voice gladly; but I walk away as though I am asleep. I speak when spoken to, and manage to smile occasionally, but I know not a word that is being said, nor understand a single joke.

At last it is all over, and Richard and I are seated in the train en route for Dover. I sit

quietly with closed eyes-sit thinking of one miles away; of one who will always be dearer to me than all else beside. Reader, do not judge me harshly; let him, or her, fancy themselves in my place, and then, when they have judged impartially, and their judgment tells them that their thoughts would not have flown across those many miles, and rested with one they loved, then let such a person close this volume, for the following pages will be of no interest or pleasure to such a one.

E

CHAPTER VI.

Strolling arm-in-arm in the lovely gardens that form almost the whole of the six miles that compose lovely Monté Carlo, are two young fellows. One we easily recognise as our old friend, Jack; the other is Sir Frederick Colvin, but who is better known as "Freddy" among all his numerous friends, of whom the first and foremost is Jack. There is nothing striking in his appearance, except the perfect look of good humour which attracts everyone. He is a general favourite with all, being always ready to do some kind action whenever required. He is rich, owning a good half of lovely Southshire, his father having been one of the greatest landowners of that county. His dear old mother completely spoils this, her only child, and is repaid by perfect adoration on his part.

Mr. Temple having returned home, Freddy insisted upon Jack remaining, and Jack is nothing loth to accept the pressing invitation and remain, for, with all the change of scenery and air, he