last thing she can do for you, and the last farthing she can give you."

Mrs. Rodney's face was somber and a little sad; and she spoke as if she did not altogether approve her own advice.

"Mother, would you be sorry, if I married Blair?" "No, I think it best you should marry Blair. The family will be well served in every material way by Blair. You will make him a good wife; Scotia would quarrel with him. And Scotia may do much better. Your father can give her a little money, and I have a plan for securing her a season in London. Scotia is handsome enough to become a duchess."

Women are unreadable even to themselves. Some impulse, which Mrs. Rodney did not analyze, made her find a certain pleasure in giving Bertha this little pang of jealousy-in making her feel that she did not. sanction her advance to Mistress of Rodney House, without considering, also, the interests of her sister. It might be only a lawful and proper desire to snub Bertha's selfishness, and yet there might be, deeper still, an unacknowledged dislike to the vision of a future mistress of Rodney. For such a vision implied not only the death of her husband, but also her own removal to her dower house, in order to make way for the new mistress. And in such case, a woman's own daughter, though better than a stranger, must be in some measure a supplanter.

Bertha noticed the tone and the matter of her mother's speech. It annoyed her very much. thought," she said moodily, "you would care for my worry and anxiety, mother."

"I do care for it. But I care also for your sister's interests."

"And if I marry Blair, you are going to give her a season in London? You never thought of such a thing for me, mother."

"I shall have to take upon myself a great humiliation, in order to secure for Scotia proper chaperone. And only Scotia's great beauty makes such a trial worth facing. I do not think you would succeed at Court. Marry Blair Rodney if you can. It is as great fortune as you can expect, Bertha. You see, I speak with sincerity to you."

"With great sincerity."

"It is very late-too late to fence with words tonight. Indeed, at the last, if advice is worth anything, it must come to just such plain words."

"Tell me one thing, mother-who is it you are going to ask to chaperone Scotia in London? And why is the asking a great humiliation?"

"I am going to ask my sister, Lady Yarrow; and it is a great humiliation, because we have not spoken or written a word to each other for thirty-five years." Mrs. Rodney's face was gray and angry, and she rose hastily, and began to prepare herself for rest.

"I am sorry I asked you, mother."

"Well, Bertha, it is not pleasant to rake the ashes of memory. And your Aunt Yarrow is a queer woman. Whether she would accept my late offer of reconciliation, and whether, if she did, Scotia would be any better for her friendship, I cannot tell. It is a doubt with -a long doubt-a doubt for the chin to rest itself upon the palm of the hand. Good-night, child." "Shall I go to Scotia to-night ?"

me

"Have some patience with your fortune. To-morrow will surely do."

ས.

A MESS OF POTTAGE.

"Hard state of life! If Heaven foreknows my will,
Why am I not tied up from doing ill?
Why am I trusted with myself at large?
When He's more able to sustain the charge."

"Prudence! thou vainly in our youth art sought,
And with age purchased are too dearly bought."

་་

Promises, once made, are past debate,

And truth's of more necessity than fate."

BREAKFAST at Rodney House was a very in

formal meal, served as each member of the family, or each guest desired it. On the following morning, Scotia was the earliest claimant. She came into the small parlor with the sunrise, dressed for riding, and looking exceedingly handsome and happy. For in those days a lady's riding dress was a very becoming toilet, and not, as it is now, the very ugliest costume she can put on. Scotia's long habit of dark blue broadcloth fitted her fine figure to perfection, and was long enough to be lifted gracefully over her left arm. There was a little linen collar at the throat, closed with a strip of pale blue silk, tied in a hunting knot. Her hair was beautifully coiled, and in her hand she carried a soft cap of blue cloth, trimmed with one long plume of the same color.

Rarely had she looked so radiant, so full of life and

joy. Some lavish planet had surely reigned when she was born, and made her of mould kindred to heaven. She seemed to be a part of the sunshine, and of the morning-glory, with its scent and song and sweetness. The butler gave her with pleasure the service she desired. He was an old man who had been a corporal in the Colonel's regiment in India; and Scotia, with a natural tact born of a gentle heart, always gave him the title he had won.

"Good-morning, Corporal Scott! Can you let me have some breakfast, early as it is?"

"Ony gude thing ye like, Miss Rodney. A bit o' kippered salmon, and a poached egg, and buttered toast, and the marmalade, and the like o' that?" "And a cup of tea also, Corporal."

He brought all with a delightful officiousness, and watched her enjoyment of the meal with an air of satisfaction. And it gave him a great deal of pleasure to see her mount her pony and ride away alone. The groom was waiting to attend her, but he was dismissed with the usual formula:

"Thank you, Jarvie, but I am only going to the sea-side."

"Ye hae the back-send again, Jarvie," said the corporal complacently.

"Miss Rodney is vera uppish in her ways, Mr. Scott; but I'm no carin'. Ye hae to tak' womenfolk at a venture, as it were; listen to their flights and fancies, and mak' a deegnified bow. I ken weel the Colonel wad preefer I was takin' care o' the young leddy; but what then? In the lang run, it's neither here nor there."

They were standing in front of Rodney House, watching Scotia ride slowly under the firs shadowing

one of the avenues of the park; the corporal smoothing out the Daily News, which had just come; the groom holding his saddled horse by the bridle. The same thought was in the mind of both men―her sex, and the pity of it.

"Will she marry Mr. Blair, think ye, Corporal ?" "She has mair sense, Mr. Jarvie."

"What think ye o' oor new minister, Corporal?" "He has a vera connect method o' enforcing doctrine; and he isna sploring awa' anent the danger o' the Kirk. That is ane comfort."

"Have ye been hearing o' the work, Corporal, how it has been growin' and prosperin'; meetin' after meetin', night after night?"

"I hae heard, I hae heard, Mr. Jarvie. I hae been told. I hope it is weel, but there is great need o' care; great need-vera great need o' care."

"I was dreamin' of oor Miss Rodney and the new minister last night."

"Keep your dreams in your ain heart, my young man. Mony a ane gets their dreams read, in a way they little thocht of. And tak' your horse back to the stable, neither o' you will be wanted this morning."

Jarvie turned away rather sulkily. He felt it a trial to be dismissed so often. But on this point Scotia had prevailed with her parents, after much argument and entreaty. It was understood that Jarvie was to attend her, whenever visiting or shopping took her beyond the limits of Rodney Law; but that upon their own land, and down to the fishing village, and along the sea-shore, she was to have the liberty and solitude which made the exercise so delightful to her.

This morning, to be alone with Nature was the