ten or twelve hours of total darkness-and she will be waiting still-waiting, when the morning dawns, still in speechless, incommunicable silence; and still without knowing more than she knows now. Who can tell, but many days may be spent in the same manner, and many nights. It would be better to seize that letter, rend it open, and despise herself for ever, than endure this agony. But the time has past by for that. The letter has, no doubt, been delivered.

"And what if it has ?" said Ella, again rising above the storm of her own agitated feelings, for she had caught now at a floating something which seemed to promise her some little support. It was but her womanly pride. It tossed her high above the surging waters of despair, only to plunge her deeper from her fall. She lost her hold of that, entirely; and when it floated past her again, she did not even stretch forth her feeble hand to try to grasp it.

And has not the time come at last for Ella to seek and to find some better help-some more enduring satisfaction than she has hitherto experienced under any of her trials? One would think that for the mere sake of keeping body and soul together, she would seek this help-for the sake of retaining some little ray of reason-some little spark of comfort. Is it really so, that she must be entirely pushed off from the treacherous shore on which she has so long lingered-entirely thrust out to sea, whether she will or not, there to sink at once, or to cry out for help? Yes; although her womanly pride has eluded her eager hold, she finds another twig-another branch, or perhaps some straggling root or fibre, and to that she clings, and clings, and will not be driven quite away.

Ella believes if she should relinquish her last footing on the island of enchantment, that there would be nowhere else in the wide world for her to stand. She has no practical faith in the promises of God: she has no confidence that He will make up to her for what she seems about to lose for ever. Truly, her enchanted isle has been very beautiful to her; for there she was the goddess, the divinity-the idol of all worshippers

there she ruled supremely, and her empire was of the heart. Where is she to found an empire now? how is she to navigate that wild, rough ocean by herself? or whither can she steer her course with any gleam of hope? Hope? Why, she has not even a wish. Here lies the root of the whole matter. Life to her looks altogether empty and barren, if endured entirely without the gratification of her natural longings after selfexaltation-self-worship-self-love, perpetually ministered to and supported by the love of others.

:

Up to this period of her life, Ella had lived on this aliment almost entirely. But she had recently been caught in her own wiles she had learned a new lesson-that of loving. It was even more pleasant to her taste than the luxury of being loved; for of that, at times, she grew a little weary. That was either not enough, or too much; and it often wanted zest. But in this new enjoyment there had been zest enough. Alas! that such an addition should have been required to her already painful and humiliating experience. Yet who can tell of what cup they may have to drink, before the true medicine can be "administered to a mind diseased?" Who can tell how the bitter draught-nay, even the poison-drop may be rendered conducive to purposes of health and healing in the hands of Him with whom are the issues of life?

CHAPTER LXVII.

FOR some time after the visit of Miss Cawthorne, Ella saw very little of her friends from the rectory; and she was glad that it was so, for never in her life had she felt less prepared to meet the scrutiny of friendly, or of unfriendly eyes. The common intercourse of neighbourhood she still managed to keep up in the accustomed manner, because in this she imagined herself to be no more observed in her own person, than observant of others. But to encounter the kind inquiring looks of real friendship would have been far more trying to her self-possession; and there were times when her weakness and brokenness of spirit were such that she must have betrayed, to some extent at least, the troubled state of her feelings; and then sympathy, and expressions of compassion, and well-meant questioning would follow, with a long series of consequences from which her spirit shrunk even more than from its real sorrows.

The cause of this absence of her friends, Ella knew to be a very melancholy one, but she had no pity to spare. In fact, she pitied herself too much to think of others. Mr. Stanley, who had been long out of health, had on the night after the little party at Miss Primley's, been attacked with symptoms of alarming illness, so that none but the faintest hopes could be entertained of his recovery. His medical attendants supposed he might linger on for a considerable length of time, but they spoke so much of the constant watching and care which were necessary, that those who understood best the nature of his disease became fully alive to the most serious apprehensions, that at some moment, when perhaps it was least expected, he

might breathe his last. His disease was of the heart, and they knew that a sudden, sometimes an almost instant termination of life was to be looked for in such cases. But Mrs. Stanley, who knew little of the nature of any disease, still hoped on; and it was most affecting to hear the happy little woman still cheering her children, as she cheered herself, with the idea that they should soon return to their home, where she had no doubt but her husband would derive benefit from the milder air of the south. It was growing late in the season, she always said, for him to be so far north, and she frequently appealed to Mr. Cawthorne for his opinion, whether they might not set out on the following week, but never on the following day; for, while this cheerful hopeful woman blinded herself to the future, she was quick and kind to see what was immediately before her; and no one amongst all the good nurses who attended upon Mr. Stanley was so efficient and so untiring as his wife, in discharging the practical duties of the sick room. That which made her so credulous of what she wished, was not a want either of feeling or perception, but a strong and confiding belief in good, and in nothing but good, as the gift of God, without much acquaintance with habits of reasoning and reflection, which might have taught her how a higher good is often brought about by seeming evil.

It was very affecting, too, to see the merry children at their play, all unconscious of the stroke about to fall upon them as a family. Some of them, who had attained to years of partial reflection, were not always able to join the younger ones in their noisy games, but would sometimes come and stand about the door, or sit in thoughtful attitude upon the step, occasionally darting off to catch a tempting ball, or stop a rolling hoop; and then, as if self-condemned for their momentary forgetfulness, the older boy especially would go perhaps quite into the house, and sitting down gently by himself, would take a book and read, until his animal spirits again overmastering his inclination for study, he would indulge himself with a long stroll in the fields to catch butterflies, or gather plants, or amuse himself in any