was forced, on account of her child, to propose remaining that night at Exeter. To her brother it was perfectly immaterial whether he remained or went on. No change of place could relieve his aching heart-no change of scene could turn the sad current of his thoughts and reflections. He played with, caressed, and fondled his little namesake; but Lady Horton was not mistaken in the cause which induced this exertion. Childlike, little Eddy talked incessantly of why Ellen remained behind, expressing sorrow at her absence, and wondering when he should see her again; at length, nestling his little face close to his uncle's, he inquired, in a low voice, “if, when she was quite his aunt, she would not always remain with them ?"

Lady Horton, completely tired both in body and mind, retired early to her apartment, and Lord Enersdale passed the night in reading his unopened letters of the morning,

and in writing to Ellen. They started the following morning by an early train for London; and Lord Enersdale then told his sister that, as soon as he had seen her in safety to her own house, he must immediately proceed to Swindon, where he found his presence was anxiously desired by the old Rector, who was supposed to be on his death-bed. Lady Horton's knowledge of her brother's character convinced her that, in the performance of stirring acts of kindness and benevolence to others, he would soonest revive from his present stunning grief; she also wished that no interview should take place between him and Sir Horace under his present angry feelings, so that, on the whole, she really felt that this unexpected call on his sympathies was likely to be most beneficial.

Lord Horton, not having expected her, was not at home on their arrival in Belgrave

Square, and his absence appeared a relief to Lord Enersdale; for, spite of the esteem and regard he felt for his brother-in-law, he dreaded that, though his participation in his grief would be sincere, it might be so bluntly expressed as to jar on his nervous sensibilities. Lord Enersdale was wrong. It is true that Lord Horton was, in his habitual intercourse with society, what is called a blunt, off-handed spoken man. His life was not made up of those refinements which Lord Enersdale and his sister so well understood. But, as the roughest surfaces sometimes protect the most luscious fruits and the most brilliant flowers, so, beneath a certain roughness of manner, there was a rich ore of tenderness running through Lord Horton's heart, which required only to be touched to yield an extent and a depth of sympathy little suspected by most of his acquaintance. Besides which, there was a manly straightfor

wardness in his character which rendered him incapable of suspicion, and deaf to everything in the shape of innuendo, or whispered ill. He carried that excellent law, which, as a legislator, he was bound to uphold, into the bosom of his own family; and made it the general rule of his thoughts never to believe any one guilty till his guilt were fairly proved. Had Sir Horace Monro's letter been submitted by Lord Enersdale to him, the discrepancy and want of evidence which pervaded the later accusations against Ellen, would have not only been remarked on, but some more explicit facts demanded; for, when he afterwards became acquainted with its contents, he observed, that Ellen had been but ill defended both by his wife and her brother; that their belief of her innocence was, to his idea, but apocryphal; for, did they really believe it, they should not have allowed a doubt to remain on another's mind, but have

forced from Sir Horace those proofs which she, being fettered by an oath, could not give.

It is curious to observe how a matter, involving happiness or misery-nay, even life or death, may sometimes be made clear by the plainest and simplest mode of reasoning; and on what trivial circumstances the continuance or termination of one's misery may depend! Had Lord Horton returned from his ride before his brother-in-law had again left London, it is more than probable that Lord Enersdale would not have gone to Swindon, but that he would have returned to Ellen a happy, instead of a broken-hearted man.

On the very evening of Lady Horton's return home, symptoms of illness became evident in her child, and for some time her maternal fears were too much excited, her maternal cares too constantly in request, for any other thought to find place in her