Julia was now advanced in consequence of Mrs. Boscawen's marriage, and she stepped from Thompson's room into society, as Minerva sprung from the brain of Jupiter, fully armed and equipped for her vocation. Lady Wetheral was greatly pleased with the air de sociÉtÉ which Julia displayed in her intercourse with the new world, her playful badinage with gentlemen, and her intuitive knowledge of the "proprieties." Her mother hailed her as a star of promise.

"My dear Sir John, Julia puts me very much in mind of myself, at her age: do you observe the nicety with which she glides through her ceremonies? She is much more brilliant than Anna Maria, and never incautious, like poor Isabel. I shall look very high for Julia."

"Who is to be the doomed man, Gertrude?" asked Sir John, quietly.

"I know you laugh at me, but I don't consider you a proper judge of daughters' educations. You would let them marry any thing, if a stupid curate or poor lieutenant could persuade you they had good hearts!"

"My daughters' hopes of happiness must depend upon their companion having a heart and principles."

"A fiddlestick, Sir John! Does a good heart buy a carriage and four, or can principle purchase comforts? What would Boscawen's heart be without his income? but you have such an odd way of talking. I don't say that a good heart is not very well in its way, but I do insist upon it, money is the first object."

"Such sentiments, Gertrude, are very unfit from a parent's lips. I trust your daughters may marry early in life, to be withdrawn from your influence."

Lady Wetheral burst into tears.

"This is always your cruel way, Sir John, when I am speaking confidentially to you about my children's prospects. I am sure they hear from me the very best sentiments: I have always entreated them to do nothing improper—I have always told them to avoid publicity, and never lose their place in society. If any of my daughters went wrong, I would never see them again."

"What do you mean by 'going wrong,' Gertrude?"

"Why I mean losing their reputation by a conspicuous flirtation with a married man, or running away from the man they marry, or doing any thing which loses a woman her high position in public opinion:—any dereliction of that kind I never—never would pardon, and my girls know it. You always do me injustice, Sir John."

Sir John could not behold his lady's tears unmoved; it was his weak point, and his lady was aware of her power. In this instance she triumphed over his weakness, and won an easy victory, for she silenced the grave rebukes which affected her self-love. A kiss of affection on his part dissipated every woeful feeling on the face of her ladyship: its very remembrance was past away.

"Well now, my love, since you are sorry you offended me, I have a great deal to say. I want you particularly to ask Lord Ennismore to Wetheral. Don't look grave, my dear Sir John; the poor fellow is dragging on an odd kind of existence, but still he lives. Just ask him to spend his Christmas with us, and of course his mother must be included in the invitation. I do not coerce young gentlemen, therefore you cannot have fears for their safety. Ask that poor unhealthy creature, at any rate; his lordship has the option of declining an invitation which does not give him satisfaction."

Sir John submitted to the "arrangement," and, most unexpectedly to himself, Lord Ennismore accepted the invitation. Lady Wetheral could not conceal her raptures; Julia also was pleased, and after a long tÊte-À-tÊte with her mother, she reported the conference to Anna Maria.

"I have had a long lecture from mamma, but that is nothing new. She has been anxiously beseeching me to captivate poor measly Ennismore, which I had long decided to do before papa issued his invitation, only I amused myself with assuring her I could not endure such a wretched sickly creature. Poor mamma had recourse to all her essence bottles, perfectly fatigued with setting forth his lordship's titles and rent-roll. She says all her hopes are anchored upon myself, as she is sure you will never marry now."

"Does she?" replied Anna Maria, softly and tranquilly.

"Yes, she told me you had passed two years without an offer, and therefore you must be considered passÉ, as Tom Pynsent did not come forward."

A deep blush overspread the cold pale cheek of Anna Maria, but she made no reply.

"Mamma told me if Lord Ennismore did not attach himself to me, I could but try Tom Pynsent, as she very much wished one of us to be established at Hatton; but though I may flirt with Tom Pynsent, I would not marry such a hunting, loud-voiced man."

Anna Maria remained silent; Julia proceeded.

"You will not make a reply, and how can I go on talking without an audience? Mamma takes great pains to plan our attacks, but she deserts us in our hour of need. I am sure she held up Tom Pynsent to you as the one thing needful, and because you did not take to each other, she is quite certain you will remain single."

Anna Maria's lips were compressed, and no sound issued from their portals. Julia looked earnestly in her face, and beheld tears flowing: she threw her arms round her sister's graceful neck and embraced her.

"My dear Anna Maria, tell me why you weep, and why you take mamma's nonsense to heart? Every body loves you, dear Anna, and you will marry in time, though Isabel did go before you."

Anna Maria's heart was too full to give utterance in words, but a violent fit of weeping relieved her, and Julia's embraces won her confidence. She unburthened her sorrow to this affectionate sister.

"I do not regret Isabel's marriage, Julia, or my own singlehood, so lamented by my mother:—it is not that I deplore; but I was taught to—I was assured—" another long fit of weeping succeeded, and again Julia soothed the choking violence of her sister's grief. An interval of calm allowed poor Anna Maria to proceed.

"If I had not been taught to consider Tom Pynsent as an assured lover—if my mother had not persevered in holding him up to my view as a model of perfection, and woven his idea into my very nature, I should not have loved so fondly the man you despise, Julia."

Julia gazed at her sister in mute astonishment, as she grew energetic in her subject.

"If I had foolishly sought his society, I might have merited the pain I have endured; but, Julia, my mother raved about him:—his affections were considered the only proper aim of female ambition—he was courted by her, and he was always near me. My mother sought his fortune, but I attached myself to his person, and I am cast aside by both. Pynsent, I know, believes me ambitious and sordid, and my mother considers me no longer a safe speculation. I have been the victim of her heedless calculations!"

"My dear, dear sister!" exclaimed Julia, bursting into tears.

"Who can repay me for all my useless suffering?" continued Anna Maria, in still more energetic tones, her eyes flashing fire. "Who will return me the peace of mind I have lost—the tranquillity of my early days—the first happy hours of my gaiety? Who had a right to betray my heart, and trample upon my hopes, when I was too young and ignorant of harm to discover the snare? What has my mother done for me? I was her eldest born, her hope, and companion, and what has she done for me but cast me into misery, and made my life a burthen!"

"Oh, my poor dear sister!" cried Julia, in deep distress; "and under your quiet manner, you really loved Tom Pynsent?"

"I loved him truly and for ever," replied Anna Maria, the fire of her dark eyes sinking into humidity, as the current of her thoughts dwelt alone upon the man she adored. "I can see no faults in the creature you deprecate—he may be the character you describe, but to me he is sacred: I love him, and though he shall never know it, I will die for him."

"Never more will I flirt with Tom Pynsent, oh, never, never!" exclaimed Julia, throwing her arms again round Anna Maria's waist. "If I had known you cared for him, I would not have chatted as I did last night with Tom. Oh, Anna, how you must have suffered, yet how calm you appeared!"

"I care not who engrosses his attention," replied her sister, as the colour rose and subsided in her cheeks. "I care not who loves him, or is loved by him: I am jealous of no one: I love in hopelessness and misery, and he shall never know my agony. Take care, Julia, how you trifle with Lord Ennismore; these hateful flirtations destroy each other's repose; how selfish, how cruel!" Anna Maria shuddered as she spoke.

"I will not try to attach Lord Ennismore," cried Julia, in earnest accents: "your distress has cured me of all intentions; but speak to papa, Anna Maria, and he will keep Tom Pynsent from the house. You know how kind he always is."

"Not for worlds!" cried Anna Maria, starting up, "not for worlds, Julia! let no one know I am wretched—let no one pity me, or dare to comfort me but yourself—promise, promise me, on your honour."

She took Julia's clasped hands in her own, and, with an impetuosity belonging to her irritable nature, she exacted a solemn vow of silence. Julia gave her assurances with regret, but the vow passed her lips, and from her the secret never transpired. She was the soul of honour in those matters.

After this confidential disclosure on the part of her eldest sister, Julia repulsed every attention offered by Tom Pynsent, and firmly resisted his efforts to attract her notice. Young Pynsent was astonished by a style of manner so suddenly adopted, and so perseveringly kept up towards himself, and at first he resented the cold indifference by an equal display of composed carelessness; but its pertinacity at length piqued his vanity, and in the end produced a watchfulness which engrossed his whole soul.

Had Julia flirted on with Tom Pynsent, his heart would have been untouched; and his mind, perfectly aware of Lady Wetheral's schemes, had remained free to sport amid the beauty which surrounded him. But Julia's manners, so unaffected, so perfectly guileless, showed such unequivocal avoidance of his society, that vanity took the alarm, and conducted her victim to the very snare he had so long observed and ridiculed. To be disliked by a Wetheral, when all the Shropshire world knew he had long been a favourite speculation of her ladyship—it was not to be endured, and, coÛte que coÛte, Tom Pynsent vowed to subdue the cold heart of Julia Wetheral.

Tom Pynsent was not an Apollo, nor did he possess the fascination of more courtly men, to make the subjugation of a lady's heart the amusement of a leisure hour. Tom Pynsent was good-looking, tall, broad set, and loud in speech, as Julia had described him: he was also empty, good-natured, and immoderately fond of fox-hunting. His very large fortune in perspective gave him the entrÉe of the neighbourhood at all hours, and if Tom Pynsent failed in the soft elegance of speech, or appeared to some disadvantage in the ball-room among his more polished companions, yet upon his attentions were the eyes of woman taught to rest; and many a glance of admiration was bestowed upon the uncouth, ill-dressed Tom Pynsent, which other more gifted swains failed to obtain.

It was the fate of Anna Maria to love this man; and while the cold, stiff manners of the beautiful Miss Wetheral, chilled the approach of distant admirers, her heart was sincerely and really given to Tom Pynsent. It is in vain to argue upon love, which arises from a thousand causes unconnected with personal appearance. Love takes a thousand forms, and defies the power of reason. When Shakespeare gave the "Weaver" charms in the eyes of Titania, he illustrated at once its blindness and its intensity. Tom Pynsent might have sought and won the heart and taste of Miss Wycherly, who regularly attended the hunt and broke in her own carriage horses, but who could suppose he had power to captivate the gentle and graceful Miss Wetheral?

Lady Spottiswoode was celebrated for the agreeability and number of her carpet dances. Every fortnight produced a gay society at her large mansion in Shrewsbury; and at her parties the county families mixed occasionally with the more humble inhabitants of the town. It was this very mixture which gave Lady Spottiswoode's parties their decided superiority over those of the neighbourhood; for at her house she possessed the advantage of numbers, and she congregated more youth, beauty, and novelty than her country neighbours could ever boast at their Élite, but smaller, and less pleasant meetings.

Shrewsbury, at the time of Miss Wetheral's introduction, contained many families whose claims to gentility might compete with their own, but whose income excluded them from distant and expensive society. They were always assembled at Lady Spottiswoode's, and, from the variety and novelty which sparkled in her drawing-rooms, her parties were considered the most delightful reunions in the country. No one ever stayed away from Lady Spottiswoode's, who had the power of locomotion; and it was at Lady Spottiswoode's assemblies that Tom Pynsent carried on his plans for lowering the pride of Julia Wetheral.

Anna Maria beheld in the keenest pain, but with unaltered expression of countenance, his unceasing persecution of her sister: whichever way Julia moved, Tom Pynsent was beside her, or before her; his eyes were, eternally watching her actions, and, when Julia was not his partner, he declined joining the dancers. If Julia observed his fixed determination to be attentive, she heeded it not, for she was dancing and flirting with Lord Ennismore, and her heart disdained the man who had deserted her sister, after a long course of ungenerous flirtation, which meant nothing, and which had injured the peace of its object.

Tom Pynsent's character was, however, open, and above-board: he had firmly believed Anna Maria a party in her mother's schemes, and his attentions eliciting no marked return, it persuaded him her heart was safe, though her ambition might grasp at becoming mistress of Hatton; Julia would have become the equally indifferent object of an unmeaning flirtation, had not her sister's unexpected confidence seared her feelings towards him. But Tom Pynsent, the long-contested Tom Pynsent, the idol of Lady Wetheral's hopes, was now seriously in love with the lively, fascinating Julia, and Love could not teach his nature to dissemble a feeling which once took possession of his heart. He was found out, and quizzed most unmercifully by his companions, but Tom Pynsent had always a "rowland" for their "oliver." Young Charles Spottiswoode attacked him at his mother's party.

"Why, Pynsent, people say you have no eyes for any girl but Julia Wetheral, and you do look dreadfully cut up when she dances with Ennismore, don't you?"

"I dare say I do," replied Pynsent, in his usual loud tone of voice, "and, if I look cut up, you may depend upon it I am so."

"Then you are fairly in for it, Pynsent," laughed his companion.

"Yes, I am, but I suppose I have no chance with that d—d pinched-in waisted lord."

Tom Pynsent's sentiments were given pro bono publico, and a group of gentlemen quickly gathered round him, some laughing at his situation, others sympathizing with him. Tom Pynsent never lowered his voice.

"I dare say you are all quizzing me, but I don't care for that. I know I am in love with a devilish fine girl, so I'm not a bit ashamed, and, if that fellow with his mincing steps gets her, I can't help myself, but I'll be hanged if I hunt till I have asked her!"

"We thought you liked the eldest sister, Pynsent?" said Mr. Wycherly.

"Did you? I didn't, though. I like Julia Wetheral, and I don't care who knows it. Laugh away, boys, and hunt by yourselves, till I come among you again."

So saying, Tom Pynsent coolly withdrew from the group, and stationed himself opposite to Julia, who was still dancing with Lord Ennismore.

Anna Maria's ear had drunk in the whole conversation, which took place near her and her mother, though both were concealed from observation. Lady Wetheral listened, with joy of the deepest and most powerful nature, to the confession of Tom Pynsent's affection for Julia, and the restraints of society scarcely concealed the exhibition of its effects. Anna Maria preserved her calm demeanour, and bore with intrepidity the acknowledgment of his love for another. A common observer would have pitied the cold indifferent character of Miss Wetheral's countenance; none knew the pangs which were silently devouring her existence. She bore the outpourings of her mother's self-congratulation with unflinching steadiness.

"My dear Anna Maria, I have now married two daughters admirably, for Julia will assuredly marry Tom Pynsent very shortly. Did you not hear him say he should ask her before he hunted? Most likely this very night. What will your father say now? I wish he had been here! but I am sure it is time to return home. Where is my dear Julia! oh, Lord Ennismore is dancing with her, I see; Lord Ennismore will do for Clara, whom I shall bring out immediately. Julia will be Mrs. Pynsent, of Hatton, and Clara shall be Lady Ennismore. I have established my daughters exactly as I could wish. Poor Isabel did very well for old Boscawen, because she was rather vulgar. Well, my love, just tell Julia we must order the carriage."

Anna Maria obeyed her mother's request, and rose to approach Julia, who was at that moment seated between Tom Pynsent and Lord Ennismore. Julia's quick eye saw her advancing, and she left the gentlemen, to bound forward to meet her sister.

"Julia, the carriage is ordered; are you cool enough to prepare for your return home?"

The words were calmly and distinctly uttered, but Julia was struck by the hollow tones and dull eye of Anna Maria. She took her hand affectionately.

"My dear sister, you are ill?"

"No," replied Anna Maria, calmly.

"Yes, you look ill. I know your countenance well, and it looks very disturbed; tell me what is the matter?"

"Nothing." Anna Maria trembled as she stood. Julia became alarmed.

"Take no notice," continued Anna Maria, "but let us return home. Are you ready?"

"Yes, now this moment; let us go."

Lord Ennismore and Tom Pynsent advanced, and each offered an arm to Julia, who quietly gave her hand to his lordship. Tom Pynsent followed, but offered no assistance to her eldest sister, who clung to Julia's disengaged arm. They joined Lady Wetheral.

"My dear Julia, you are not heated, I hope? I am sorry to call you away from the dance; but I believe it is late, and Anna Maria is fatigued. Sir John sits up for us."

A little change took place among the party, and a little bustle ensued, preparatory to their departure. Julia withdrew her arm from Lord Ennismore for an instant, to adjust her shawl, and Lady Wetheral took immediate advantage of the movement. She glided to Lord Ennismore, and took possession of his deserted arm.

"Allow me, my dear lord. You must take care of us, and give us safely back to Sir John, you know, according to promise. Anna Maria, I bespeak Lord Ennismore's other arm for you; thank you, my lord, we are very comfortably arranged. Julia, my love, Fate gives you to Mr. Pynsent pour le moment. Now shall we bow to Lady Spottiswoode?"

The little ruse succeeded. Tom Pynsent walked to the carriage with Julia, and he opened the subject so near and so interesting to his heart, boldly and without preamble.

"Miss Julia, I wish to know if you like Lord Ennismore?"

Julia was taken by surprise, but she knew the characteristic bluntness of her companion's manners and speech, and Julia was rarely disconcerted: she possessed astonishing coolness of manners for a girl so young and so recently introduced: her reply was prompt, and quietly delivered.

"I know no right you possess to ask me such a question, Mr. Pynsent."

"I have a right, Miss Julia. If I like a girl, I am at liberty to ask if she is pre-engaged."

Julia laughed, and her laugh led Tom Pynsent to form a wrong conjecture upon the state of her feelings towards himself. He pressed her hand with considerable force, which Julia resented by withdrawing her arm.

"Pray don't be angry, my dear Miss Julia, at a good fox-hunting squeeze: I am not used to press ladies' hands, but the firmer I shake a friend's hand, the stronger is my pleasure at receiving him, and, if my grasp offends you, set it down to my affection."

Julia made no reply, but she retreated to her party; Lady Wetheral was impatient at her return, but Julia's indignation heeded not the hopes and fears which struggled in her mother's bosom; she was offended at Tom Pynsent's misconstruction of her laugh, and she stationed herself by the side of her sister. Tom Pynsent stood bewildered. The colour rose in Lady Wetheral's cheeks with alarm.

"My dear Julia, you have quitted Mr. Pynsent in a very extraordinary manner; I am really hurt; Mr. Pynsent! my dear Mr. Pynsent!"

Tom Pynsent advanced, but his mind was in a labyrinth of confused astonishment:—"Bless my soul, Lady Wetheral, I suppose I have done something wrong; but the deuce take me if I know what brought all this about!"

"Some little misunderstanding, my dear Mr. Pynsent; little misunderstandings, we are told, often lead to agreeable and sincere friendships; dine with us to-morrow, and make up this little fracas."

Tom Pynsent bowed, with a look indicative of pleased stupidity.

"I shall be very happy; I am in the wrong box, somehow; but I can't, for the soul of me, think why Miss Julia ran away from me."

There was a silence of some moments; Tom Pynsent could not catch Julia's eye to learn whether its glance was of good or evil, therefore, he sought consolation in addressing Anna Maria.

"Miss Wetheral, you are not offended; perhaps you will condescend to accept my arm?"

Poor Anna Maria mechanically obeyed the request, and Julia again took possession of her partner. The exchange was made in silence, and apparently to the great satisfaction of Lord Ennismore. Tom Pynsent walked forward with Anna Maria, and made his remark upon Julia's desertion.

"Upon my word, Miss Wetheral, I did nothing to give your sister offence, except squeezing her hand, which no lady takes offence at, particularly when a man is making love. I love her better than any woman I know, and I would not do any thing improper for the world; but a squeeze of the hand, now, Miss Wetheral, was that a thing to quarrel about?"

A cold unearthly smile was Anna Maria's answer to this appeal.

"I shall have it all out to-morrow, however. I suppose Miss Julia means to have me, as she laughed when I spoke seriously. She does not like that fellow Ennismore, does she, Miss Wetheral?"

"I cannot tell," answered Anna Maria, in a voice so low it was scarcely audible.

"I wish I knew! Miss Julia laughed when I put the question to herself, which, I suppose, is encouragement, but I shall see to-morrow. I shall speak in time, for fear she should take a fancy to that lanky dog behind us. But who would suppose any woman so shy at a squeeze? If I had kissed her, it might have been another thing! Bless my soul, what odd things women are!"

There was no time for further remark on either side; the carriage was ready, and no pause allowed a continuation of complaint. Tom Pynsent assisted Julia to ascend the steps of the barouche, but she would not address him, or grant him one look to enable him to discover the real state of her feelings. Lady Wetheral bent forward as the door was closing.

"We shall expect you very early to-morrow, my dear Mr. Pynsent, and pray do not treat us as common acquaintance: Sir John was wishing for you yesterday."

"I shall come very early—perhaps to luncheon," replied Tom Pynsent, resting his broad hand on the carriage-door, and fixing his eyes upon Julia, "I have something particular to say to Sir John."

"Oh! delightful!" cried Lady Wetheral, bowing and smiling; "this will be something enlivening to tell Sir John. Something, of course, about hunting or shooting, the idol of men's hearts."

"It's not about hunting or shooting this time, Lady Wetheral."

"Ah! you mean to be mysterious, to raise our curiosity—what can it be? We must be calm, however, and try to wait patiently till to-morrow, or rather till this afternoon, for I fancy it is half-past twelve."

Tom Pynsent bowed, and the party proceeded homewards, enclosing four hearts, labouring under conflicting and powerful feelings. Lady Wetheral's happy, uncontrollable emotions were in strange contrast with Anna Maria's deeply-pained feelings, which lay concealed under impenetrable silence. Julia also was silent and sad; her situation with respect to Tom Pynsent and Lord Ennismore gave her young heart its first painful impressions. Lord Ennismore replied to Lady Wetheral's eager, agitated remarks with an absence of mind which proved his lordship equally occupied with his feelings; and all this was originated in the well-filled, gay ball-room, which had long been considered the cradle of happiness and the grave of care. So prone is nature to seek suffering under the mask of pleasure, that all hearts court its renewal.

Lady Spottiswoode's parties were the scene of cruel disappointment, and the cause of repeated disquietude, yet did the young and fair of that day crowd to her assemblies, and severe illness alone obliged a reluctant invalid to remain perdue, when Lady Spottiswoode issued her cards from the Abbey foregate.

Anna Maria had borne her short but destroying colloquy with Tom Pynsent without giving way to the pain which wrung her heart; and, during the drive to Wetheral, she had restrained the swelling of her soul, and made a strong effort to subdue the tears which rushed into her eyes; but when she had gained the sanctuary of her own apartment, all restraint was at an end, and Julia bent over the unfortunate girl as she lay extended hopelessly and helplessly upon her bed.

"My dear sister, is this horrible grief indeed given to Tom Pynsent?"

"God knows it is! Julia, but do not ridicule a sorrow you cannot comprehend. When I heard him this night declare his love for you, and when he whispered it to my own self, then I felt as all women feel who find their affection is unheeded and unvalued. I felt, Julia, as keenly as if Tom Pynsent had been admired and loved by hundreds."

"But, my dear Anna, you will not love a man who places so little value—and is so very—" Julia hesitated.

"It matters little," replied Anna Maria, with impetuosity, "who cares for Tom Pynsent, or who expresses astonishment at my attachment. Every woman wonders at her neighbour's choice, and it is sufficient that I am most unhappy. You, Julia, need not tell me I am little valued by him; I know and feel it, but the information does not come well from your lips, who have gained the heart I can never cease to covet."

"Tom Pynsent can never be any thing to me," said Julia.

"And thus it is," continued Anna Maria, speaking in mournful accents. "We are doomed to helpless misery from our birth, and we prey upon each other's peace. Why did he constantly attend upon me, when his heart was free? and why did my mother teach my first thoughts to rest upon a man whose affections she could not ensure me? I tell you, it was wrong!—I tell you, Julia, it was altogether ungenerous and cruel. I have been sacrificed to a selfish policy; and on the very threshold of life my happiness has been wrecked, to make existence a burthen for ever!" She clasped her hands tightly together, and, rising suddenly from her bed, paced her room with rapid steps, talking apparently to herself.

"What was to be gained by my misery? has it soothed my mother's ambition? She spurns me as the object who has disappointed her hopes. Has it gained the long-sought aim of my own anxious love? He told me himself he loved my sister. Am I to bear all this with smiling indifference? Julia, Julia!" she screamed, "I cannot smile, I will not smile, and no one shall see me smile more."

Julia endeavoured to soothe Anna Maria into calmness, but all efforts were unavailing; her impetuous nature was roused, and it must take its own course: resistance could only increase its fury.

"Leave me to myself, Julia—leave me. I shall be calm enough to-morrow, but now my very heart bursts at the thought of all that has passed. Do not try to calm me! I will not be calm. If I grow calm, it will be from madness, and I shall be maddened by opposition. I tell you, Julia, to leave me, and don't let Thompson come into my room. There, go, in mercy."

Julia became alarmed, but she turned to withdraw.

"Shake hands, Anna Maria, and wish me good night."

"I have no heart for any thing," replied Anna Maria, irritated. "I will not shake hands, or wish good to any one, for it is all nonsense; only leave me now."

Julia retired in silence, for it was vain to persevere in calming her sister's irritated feelings. Anna Maria's nature was composed of fiery particles; and her very composed, general manner concealed a heart full of keen and powerful emotions. It was the intensity of these emotions which required the greatest watchfulness in subduing external appearance of inward suffering: and to the public eye Anna Maria appeared gentle and calm to insensibility. Perhaps only Julia was aware of the real state of her heart; for who could discover a powerful attachment under such cold and calm exterior?

Had Lady Wetheral sacrificed her anxiety for establishment to the domestic happiness of her family, all this misery had been spared; neither perhaps had Isabella been given to a man five-and-thirty years her senior. But at Wetheral Castle all parental feeling was engrossed in calculating possibilities and probabilities of high alliances, on Lady Wetheral's part; and Sir John had too long sacrificed his better judgment to his lady's whims, to recover again the tone of his authority. Since then the ties of affection were so loosely bound together, and youthful hearts were taught to bend their nobler natures to the selfish dictates of ambition, what hope was there of bright and joyous hours, free to sport in innocence? What hope was there of that lovely confidence and peace which gilds the first years of the young, when parental care—a mother's care—guards the heart from sorrow, and leads it to love all that is good, and to pray against the evil passions? What hope is there for natures tutored into worldly sacrifices, ambitious only of the world's respect? Alas! none.