Lady Ennismore and Julia were already in the breakfast-room, when Christobelle and her father descended the following morning. Lord Ennismore was seated with a decanter of water on the table before him; and he had sundry bottles stationed round it, from which he weighed certain powders, and immersed the whole in a goblet of water. His lordship was too occupied to rise upon their entrance, but he apologised for the apparent want of gallantry.

"Excuse me, Sir John Wetheral, and also I entreat your pardon, Miss Wetheral, for my sitting posture; but I am, at this moment, preparing my morning draught. I shall, however, have much pleasure in drinking your health, when the preparation is completed."

"I will stand proxy to your words, my dear Augustus," said the Countess; "I am anxious about the given quantities of the powders, and entreat you to be careful in examining the measures. Three grains, I know, is the proper quantity. Three grains of each. My dear Miss Wetheral, I hope you slept well. Sir John, I am going to carry you with me per force, round the park. Three grains only, my dear son."

"Thank you, my dear mother; I am very accurate: I have just concluded my dose."

Lord Ennismore stood up with an air, which he intended should be picturesque and gallant. His lordship held the goblet in one hand, and a tea-spoon in the other, as he bowed low to Christobelle and her father.

"I have the honour to drink to your welfare, as also to express our pleasure at your conferring upon us the honour of your company." His lordship then stirred the liquid into a state of effervescence, and drank the contents of the goblet. Julia extended her hand to receive the empty goblet, but the Countess prevented the action.

"No, my dear Julia, I will receive it from my son. I know you are not fond of powders and effervescing draughts; young people seldom like them. Let me take the glass from your husband." Her ladyship perceived the goblet was not quite relieved of its contents. "My dear Augustus, I am not easy. I wish I possessed the calmness of Julia, but I never shall be so self-possessed; I am always in little alarms about you. You have left a wine-glassful in this goblet, and you will not feel its beneficial effects."

Lord Ennismore's satisfaction was observable at the care expressed by his mother's remarks. Julia was totally ignorant of any concealed purpose lurking in her ladyship's alarm. She only smiled at her mother's perfectly unwarranted fears, and playfully jested at their unfounded use. The Countess patted Julia's cheek.

"My dear love, you cannot know a mother's agonising, though, perhaps, foolish fears. A young wife is not aware of the nature of unpleasing symptoms, such as I fear I see arising in my son's system. Sir John, I think we may assert it as a fact, that a parent's anxiety is even more keenly acute than a wife's alarm."

Sir John did not agree with her ladyship. He thought parental pangs must be to every heart a bitter trial; but a wife's welfare, or a husband's health, must be a paramount interest. To his idea, a mother's affection must bow to that of a wife.

"You think so, Sir John?" The Countess smiled bewitchingly upon her son. "I believe I did my duty to my lord; I think I devoted myself to his wishes; but I surely feel a more intense love for my son. Perhaps," continued the Countess, sighing, "perhaps his very delicate health interested my feelings too powerfully for my repose."

"I am, and must be," said his lordship, in most sententious tones, "extremely fortunate in possessing a relation so interested in my well-doing. I am sure my excellent wife feels for me a proper and lively affection; but, as the Countess-dowager remarks, there is want of reflection in the young, which only the more aged gain by experience."

"My dear lord," exclaimed Julia, with gentle earnestness, "I should be the only proper attendant; and I should be a most willing one, too; if you would allow me to mix your medicines—but Lady Ennismore has so frequently assured me...."

"Come, come, my sweet Julia, away with self-upbraidings, or upbraiding of any nature! I bear witness to your worth and kindness; let us proceed to despatch our breakfast, that I may claim Sir John's company." The Countess allowed no pause in the conversation to enable Julia to continue her observation.

"Sir John, I look forward to great commendations on your part. My son's taste is admirably set forth in the new drive, which comprehends a circuit of three miles. My dear Miss Wetheral, you have a fine lady's appetite: surely Bedinfield will effect a change. I am sure my Julia will enjoy an hour or two of chat with you, my young friend, while we are absent. A little chat upon Wetheral topics. Julia talks with so much fervour of her friends in Shropshire!"

"I wish they would all think of me with equal interest, and become better correspondents," observed Julia, energetically.

"Talking of correspondence," said the Countess, addressing Sir John, "how few of our earliest friends ever continue to keep up the delightful intercourse of extreme youth. So many new objects, so many new perceptions! We rarely can long persevere in the course of our early career."

"My daughter's friend makes the same remark. Miss Wycherly complains of Julia's silence," observed Sir John.

"I have written frequently, papa," cried Julia, her whole figure becoming animated with the subject. "I have even invited Penelope to Bedinfield, without receiving an acceptation or denial. What can my friend plead in extenuation of her neglect? I did expect to be summoned to her marriage. I promised to attend her summons."

"You did not inform me of this arrangement, Julia," remarked the Countess; "I was not aware of the intended pleasure of another visit into Shropshire."

"I did not answer for you, dear mother. I was not aware at that time of your intention to reside at Bedinfield. I only assured Penelope, Lord Ennismore, and myself, would swell her train."

"You have changed your resolution, of course," said the Countess, in a dry tone of voice.

"No, indeed: I should like to surprise Penelope. Papa, we will return with you to Wetheral, if my lord has no objection."

"No plan can give me greater pleasure, my love. Let us return together, if you please. If your ladyship will add your society, Wetheral will be proud to receive you. Lady Wetheral will rejoice to see you."

"Oh! let us all return with papa," exclaimed Julia, turning to her lord with eagerness; "let us all return with papa to dear Wetheral!"

"I am sensible of Sir John's politeness," returned his lordship, "more particularly as change of air is beneficial to every constitution. I shall with pleasure revisit Wetheral, if the Countess-dowager has no engagements to prevent her quitting Bedinfield."

"My dear mother, you are not engaged? You will accompany us, won't you?" said Julia, affectionately and eagerly.

"I am grieved that it is out of my power to accept Sir John's polite invitation," replied the Countess, with much suavity.

"Oh! I am so sorry! but, my lord, you will take me to Wetheral; you will return with me into Shropshire," continued Julia, anxiously watching the stolid face of her dull lord. "You have no engagement, Augustus?"

"None whatever, my dear Lady Ennismore," was his lordship's reply; "but if my mother cannot postpone her engagements, we had perhaps better defer our visit."

"I have every hope," said Sir John, bowing politely to the Countess, "I have every hope that Lady Ennismore will yet favour us with her company. Perhaps, upon a little consideration, one or two engagements may give way, to do us honour."

"I will consult with my son," replied the Countess, with her most bewitching smile. "A visit to Wetheral must be a pleasure too agreeable to relinquish, if we can postpone less agreeable engagements. I shall not fail to draw upon my invention for excuses in one quarter. My dear Julia, I hope we shall accomplish a visit to Wetheral. I hope my lord's health will continue: but I do not like his pallid complexion this morning."

"Do I look unwell?" asked his lordship, in an anxious tone, "do I appear changed to-day, my dear mother?"

"I don't approve of that pale cheek, my dear son. Julia, do you notice a little hectic spot—a very small spot, just upon the cheek-bone?"

Julia looked at her lord's leaden face. "No, I do not discover a spot, I cannot perceive a hectic spot—do you, papa?"

"My dearest Julia, is it possible you cannot distinguish a little feverish appearance? I see it from this distance, with great uneasiness."

"Now, papa, you shall judge between us. Do you see any appearance of spot or fever upon my lord's cheek?"

Sir John put on his glasses with an air of grave solemnity. "Am I constituted judge in this matter?"

"Oh, yes, papa, you shall declare the precise state of the matter," exclaimed Julia, laughingly.

"No one must judge for me. No one can judge for a mother's quick eye," said the Countess, playfully, "but still in the multitude of counsellors there is wisdom; therefore, I should wish to hear Sir John's opinion."

Sir John Wetheral examined Lord Ennismore's cheek with great command of countenance: there was no spot, or even the slightest tinge of colour; all was colourless, still, and heavy: dull, dismal, and disagreeable.

"My good lord," he said, "I am pleased to join my daughter in her happy fearlessness; and still better pleased to be able to soothe her ladyship's apprehensions. I think there is nothing alarming in your cheek. Rather pale, but I can perceive no hectic tendency."

Lord Ennismore turned anxiously towards his mother. Her eyes were fixed apprehensively upon him: he turned towards Julia; she was engaged with the merrythought of a chicken. He again turned to the Countess.

"My dear mother, you are not satisfied with Sir John Wetheral's opinion: I see you think I am unwell, and you are always watching me, therefore, you understand my constitution better than any one can do. I don't think I am very well this morning. I could almost fancy my head was uncomfortable."

"You never give way to fancy, my dear son, therefore, you are not well. I can read the expression of your poor heavy eyes this morning: I am very uneasy." The Countess rose with some perturbation from the breakfast-table.

Lord Ennismore rose also. "Excuse me, Sir John Wetheral, excuse me, Miss Wetheral, if I appear abrupt in quitting your company. I will retire, if you please, this morning; I certainly feel very unwell, and a few hours quiet will be calming. Pray don't rise, Lady Ennismore; my mother will give me her assistance to my apartments; my dear mother, will you be so kind as to give me an audience?"

Julia rose, and offered her arm to Lord Ennismore, but he again declined her assistance. The Countess approached with exultation in her looks and manner; but soft words were upon her lips.

"I believe we old people are better fitted for nurses, my dear Julia. Your alarm, perhaps, would be greater than my own upon any emergency, but an old head is more used to critical situations. My dearest love, will you accompany our friends into the sitting-room, and then join us; you will be very anxious to see the effect of my old-fashioned remedies. My dear Sir John, I will see you again to arrange our drive."

Lord Ennismore quitted the breakfast-room with a look of real dejection. His valet, who had been summoned, followed his lordship, as he leaned upon the arm of the Countess. Her implied suspicions had taken such deep root in the weak mind of her son, that his imagination led him to believe he was seriously ill. His lordship walked softly, with the air of a person who felt assured he had been suddenly seized with an alarming and painful malady: his person shrunk into greater insignificance, his eye wore a more heavy expression—he was the perfect illustration of MoliÈre's "Malade Imaginaire," as he walked gently across the grandly-proportioned apartment. What a creature to possess a wife so lovely as Julia, and to be the representative of the earldom of Ennismore! to own the baronial halls of Bedinfield, and write himself a man!

Sir John Wetheral would not let Julia depart when they entered the sitting-room. He made her take a seat by his side upon the sofa, and he held her hand, while he gazed fondly upon her. Julia smiled, and asked him "if he was examining the hectic appearances upon her cheek."

"No, my child, here are no symptoms of green and yellow melancholy; you look well, Julia, therefore, you must be happy."

"Yes, papa, I am indeed happy. Lady Ennismore spoils me, and will not let me stir from her side, 'lest the winds of heaven should blow too roughly on my cheek.' She is all kindness."

"And Lord Ennismore is indulgent, Julia, and makes you happy?"

"I wish he would not take so much medicine, papa; otherwise, he never contradicts me in anything. I cannot think it wholesome to take such a quantity of medicine. The Countess encourages him, I think."

"You love him, Julia?"

"Yes, pretty well, papa. Mamma told me I should like him better and better every day, when I was once married, but I can't say that is quite the case. I like Lord Ennismore, though: he never offends me, except in the quantity of pills and powders. I don't like him better, but then I don't think I like him worse."

"You are anxious to visit Wetheral again, my love?"

"Indeed, papa, I am. I want to find out why my friends have been silent. Mamma has behaved very ill: she has never written me a line, though I addressed her every month. I can't imagine what my friends are made of. The Countess warned me of all this."

"What can Lady Ennismore prophecy, who is so distantly known to your friends, Julia?"

"She tells me, papa, that every body is envious of my marriage, and that my friends will fall away, because all youthful friendships are hollow. Penelope has, indeed, proved how little my letters interest her."

"Indeed, Julia," exclaimed Christobelle, "Miss Wycherly has not received one letter from Bedinfield. She told me so very sorrowfully at Hatton."

"I cannot think that," returned her sister. "The Countess herself took my letters to seal, and order them to be put into the post-bag. Penelope must have received them, but she is preparing for her marriage, and Charles Spottiswoode engrosses her attention."

"No, indeed, Julia; remember Miss Wycherly's message by papa."

"I cannot understand it all," replied Julia, as the tears rushed to her eyes; "I love all my friends dearly, but now I am Countess of Ennismore not a soul thinks of me, to keep up a correspondence. Mamma told me that rank bought every thing, yet I cannot purchase a line from my own home, 'to bid God bless me.' I am very unhappy about it sometimes, only Lady Ennismore comforts me, and says she loves me for a hundred friends."

"Think no more of it, my love, we shall be all united at Wetheral soon, and you shall lecture Penelope before us in conclave." Sir John pressed Julia to him as he spoke. She smiled through her tears.

"Oh, you are all included in my coming lecture! You are all delinquents! I thought I should have fainted when I heard of your arrival yesterday, so unexpectedly! I was flying down to you, but dear Lady Ennismore arrested my flight. She made me lie down, and take some of my lord's horrid drops. She advised me, too, to receive you in the drawing-room; it was more becoming my station, and your demerits. I forgot station and demerits, when I heard your dear name, papa." She threw her arms round her father's neck, and proceeded. "What care I for any one, like my own dear papa? I know I should be fonder of Lord Ennismore if he was not always mixing up draughts and lotions, and if he was more with me; but his rooms are near Lady Ennismore, and mine are in the left wing of this immense place."

"You do not mean to infer, my love, that you have separate apartments!" said her father, starting up from the sofa. "Four months of matrimony, and a separation already, Julia!"

"Oh, that's an old affair now, papa. Lord Ennismore had his rooms prepared near Lady Ennismore these three months, because he thought she understood the pennyweights and grains better than I do. I only see my lord at meals, and he is extremely attentive to me then, I must say; but I cannot like him as I should do if he consulted me about his medicines. I should learn the weights and measures in time, you know."

Sir John walked to the window, without making any reply. The Countess entered the room at the moment; she spoke kindly and feelingly to her daughter; at the same time taking both her hands, and pressing them with affectionate solicitude.

"My dear love, my lord is inquiring for you: he feels better, much better, but I have decided upon sending for Dr. Anstruther. He wishes you to sit with him; he inquires for Julia upon all occasions, and I am now come for you. My son is full of regrets," added her ladyship, turning towards her guests, "that he should feel one of his little seizures at this particular moment, when he wished to do the honours of Bedinfield; but he deputes me to act for him. He has insisted upon my ordering the barouchette, to drive Miss Wetheral and yourself to the plantations. My dear son will hope to be perfectly well at dinner: he is quite nervous about the plantations."

Sir John appeared too engrossed with his own emotions to reply; but he bowed to her ladyship's speech. She turned to Christobelle.

"My dear young friend, we shall return to luncheon, therefore, as my daughter remains with her husband, you will, probably, be glad to accompany us in our drive. We shall set out in half an hour."

Christobelle promised herself little pleasure in the drive, since Julia would not be with them, but she would prepare to attend her ladyship's summons. The two ladies then proceeded towards the hall. Julia looked back at her father, as he seated himself near Christobelle, and smiled.

"Papa, I shall find out about the letters from Lady Ennismore. I am sure Penelope is wrong!"

"What is this little affair, Julia?" asked Lady Ennismore, with peculiar quickness.

"My friends say they have received no letters from Bedinfield, my dear mother. You know I wrote, for you were kind enough to seal my long crossed epistles. You told me they would serve me so!"

"I have often known fluctuations in correspondence among young people, my love. I used to fancy in my youth that I was particularly ill-used; but, when I look back, I perceive it was circumstances which over-ruled many events."

Lady Ennismore continued speaking to Julia, but the distance prevented the substance of her remarks reaching her friends. Before the speech concluded, however, they had gained the door, which Lady Ennismore closed after their transit, and the subject was never more renewed. A heavy sigh from her father arrested Christobelle's attention. She asked him if he was ill.

"Not in body, my dear child: my mind alone is wretched."

"Oh, why, papa?" she exclaimed, in surprise; "what makes you wretched in this beautiful place of Julia's? and Julia herself so well and happy!"

"There is no happiness with that dangerous woman, and that feeble son!" said her father, as he paced the room. "There is no peace for my poor child—ignorance, ignorance is her only earthly chance! Why was I so weak, so deluded, to marry my poor child to a wretched idiot?"

"Papa," Christobelle uttered gently—"dear papa, who are you meaning?"

He did not hear her speak; her father apparently forgot her presence, for he continued walking.

"To give way to a woman's tears, when my judgment recoiled at the union, was folly, was wickedness. My heart will feel this, for I knew it was wrong, yet I sanctioned it by my presence. My poor Julia!—my poor, poor girl!"

Christobelle could not bear to hear her father's self-reproach; she went to him and took his hand.

"Papa," she said, "don't say you have done wrong; you never did wrong to any body. We all say how good and kind you are to us."

He stopped and looked earnestly at her.

"I have brought you up, Chrystal, with very different principles. I do not think you will bring me in sorrow to the grave. I think you will not sell yourself to perjury and ambition, as others have done."

"I will never do what you tell me not to do, papa."

"I hope not—I hope not, my child. I tell you not to marry a selfish, heartless man, as Clara and Julia have done, to secure wealth and rank, which they will never enjoy in peace—which they will never enjoy in respectability. It is a hard fate, but even the young must endure it if they barter peace for riches. God help them! their poor mother has done this, and I did not act a father's part by them!" Sir John seated himself, and Christobelle knelt by him, and held his hand to her lips, and kissed it repeatedly. He was recalled to recollection by this movement, and he raised her from the attitude she had chosen, to a seat by her side.

"My dear Chrystal, never repeat the remarks to any third person, which you have heard now from my lips. Remember the trust I have in your youth, because you have been my companion, and have learned to be silent, and to think a parent's word sacred. You will understand my distress of mind at a future period; but at this moment the knowledge of my suffering would be incomprehensible to you. In your steadiness of character I hope for much comfort hereafter."

Christobelle did indeed hope to be his comfort in age, as he had been her shield in youth. Her words were simple, and her expressions were uttered with untutored energy, but they were sincere in feeling. His society, his kindness, his information, had been her happiness; for they had shielded her from a mother's reproaches, and her increasing loss of self-command. They had preserved her from ambitious feelings, by withdrawing her from her mother's influence; and, by offering her the calm pleasures of his study, instead of consigning her first young days to the infected air of Thompson's room, and Thompson's arguments, Christobelle had known only indulgence and gentle treatment. How could she help loving this estimable parent, or fail to make his slightest wish the law of her heart? She did promise—and redeemed that promise—that she would never breathe to a human being the conversations which he entrusted to her sacred keeping.

Lady Ennismore was true to her appointment. She did the honours of the new drive with infinite grace, and conversed with Sir John upon every subject with fluent and astonishing information. Her ladyship appeared quite equal to guide the destinies of Bedinfield. Every improvement originated with herself, however carefully she subscribed Lord Ennismore's name to the plans; and her perfect acquaintance with agricultural economy proved her equal to the task of superintending her son's immense property. Christobelle was delighted with the polite tact of her manners, as she directed her conversation from John to herself. It is assuredly a great gift to possess that polite ease, and well-directed attention, which gives a flattering unction to the vanity of all who receive its plastic touch. It is the wand of a fairy which turns words into the pearls and diamonds of the little tale—which does so delightfully

No one could exceed Lady Ennismore in that most fascinating, most dangerous gift of attraction. Christobelle felt under its spell, bound towards her by the silent and potent effects of soothed vanity. She felt she was of equal consideration with her father in Lady Ennismore's eyes; for her opinions were elicited, and listened to with marked attention. Christobelle was raised above the level of her understanding—she was gratified—she was delighted with Lady Ennismore. The dull drive which had been anticipated, passed pleasantly, even rapidly, to her charmed feelings; and Sir John confessed to her, that he could not feel surprised at her ladyship's powerful influence over the unsuspicious and gentle heart of Julia.

Lady Ennismore was equally fascinating at luncheon. She did not partake of the delicacies which tempted the eye, and impelled appetite; but her lively conversation almost recompensed them for the absence of Julia, whose excuses she tendered. "Lord Ennismore was certainly very unwell; he was suffering much pain in the head. His dear Julia never left her son when he had those wretched attacks. He could not endure her to be a moment from his sight; but she had deputed her to give her best love to both dear relations, whom she hoped to meet at dinner, or at least, in the evening."

But Julia did not appear at the promised hour. "Lord Ennismore's symptoms increased. Dr. Anstruther was of opinion his patient was preparing for another of those alarming attacks. She greatly feared Julia would be confined to a sick room many days, but her son was so eagerly bent upon receiving every thing from Julia's hand—so attached to his lady, it was delightful to witness such conjugal affection. Lord Ennismore almost increased the disorder, by regretting his inability to see his agreeable guests: the next visit to Bedinfield, her ladyship trusted, would be free from such a painful interruption of intercourse."

The evening passed away, and Julia did not appear. It did seem strange that she could not make her escape to her family for a quarter of an hour. Why was Lord Ennismore so anxious for his lady's society, so very much attached as his mother represented him to be, and yet allow her apartments to remain at such a distance from his own? Why was not his attachment manifested in that love for her society which would make them inseparable, like the Boscawens, like the Pynsents, nay, even like the unhappily assorted Kerrisons? Surely, Julia might be replaced by the anxious mother, while she visited at intervals her own father! Christobelle was infinitely astonished at Julia's complete seclusion with Lord Ennismore, for she knew her strong affection to her own family, and the little anxiety she could suffer for a man whom she professed to like "pretty well!" This was not love, to compel that devotion of time and thought to her husband's comforts which Anna Maria would have shown to her honest-hearted and beloved Tom Pynsent. It was a line of conduct Christobelle could not comprehend, and her father did not enlighten her on the subject, when she expressed her sentiments to him at parting for the night. He doubtless felt and understood the whole system pursued by the Dowager Countess to sustain her power at Bedinfield; but Christobelle was too young to be initiated in the wiles of the human heart, and she wept to think her sister could absent herself so long from those who loved her, and who had journeyed so far to enjoy her presence.

The second morning's meal was ungraced by Julia still. Lord Ennismore was even "seriously" indisposed; and her ladyship spoke with feeling, and at great length, of her own parental anxiety. Her mind was torn to pieces with agitation and alarm. She fancied sometimes, the mild air of the South of Italy would be necessary to the recovery of her son's health. Julia would be so confined at Bedinfield, she thought. The bright climate of Rome or Naples would be beneficial to both her children, and, perhaps, brace her own nerves. She had talked to Dr. Anstruther upon the subject, and he quite went with her in her ideas of Rome. "What did her dear Sir John think?"

Sir John could form no opinion. He was not acquainted with the nature of the attacks which afflicted Lord Ennismore, and Julia's health was excellent, if he was to judge by her blooming and healthy complexion.

"True, my dear sir; Julia does indeed give evidence of health, and a tranquil mind. I am most happy in the knowledge, indeed in her own assurance, that her heart is free from care. I have spoken to her this morning, and she seems delighted with the prospect of a continental tour. I am very uneasy about my son."

"Have you had medical advice from town, Lady Ennismore?"

"No: Dr. Anstruther is remarkably clever. My son, as well as myself, pin our faith upon his advise. I am never easy without Dr. Anstruther. We could not consult a more intelligent medical adviser."

"As I purpose leaving Bedinfield early to-morrow morning, your ladyship may perhaps...."

"My dear friend, you must not quit us in this hurried way! Surely you do not leave Bedinfield so soon!" The Countess spoke in tones of regret, but her eyes betrayed her pleasurable feelings. "I must mourn my son's illness, since it removes you from us. The next visit must be at some moment more favourable to all parties. This has been an unfortunate occurrence. I must lament this very unfortunate occurrence."

"I wish to see my daughter before I quit Bedinfield," said Sir John Wetheral, with seriousness of look and manner. "I must see my daughter before I return to Wetheral: probably she will not be so closely confined to-day."

"I hope not—I will try to hope not," replied the Countess; "but my fears will not allow me to be tranquil. When our breakfast is concluded, I will visit our invalid again, and, if possible, release my dear Julia. She is very watchful and attentive, dear creature. I cannot wonder at Ennismore's anxiety to have her with him. We will see what this hour has produced."

Breakfast was concluded in silence. The Countess lost her lively flow of spirits, and Sir John did not contribute his usual portion of pleasant conversation. The trio gradually became silent and sad, and Lady Ennismore, politely expressing her hopes that they should yet alter their intention of leaving Bedinfield, rose to visit her son. She hoped Julia might return to them, when she was with the dear invalid, to take her place; but, if a short time intervened, she trusted they would find amusement in the stores of the library, or in perambulating the grounds. All and every thing was at their command.

The father and daughter were alone for some hours. Each moment, as it sped rapidly on, was full of hope that Julia was on her way to gladden their sight, and delight their hearts; but, as time were on, they feared some evil accident had befallen the unfortunate Lord Ennismore. The door at last opened, and the same attendant, who appeared at their entrance into Bedinfield, again presented herself.

"The Countess of Ennismore regrets the necessity of her absence, Sir John, but she cannot quit my lord's apartment. I am deputed to bear her compliments, and the regret of the young Lady Ennismore. The Countess commands me to say the carriages are at your disposal, and her ladyship trusts you will excuse her presence till the hour of dinner."

"I fear his lordship is very unwell," observed Sir John, fixing his eyes upon the unwelcome messenger with an expression of strong disbelief in her statement; but she avoided meeting his gaze.

"I am commanded to unfold my message to Sir John Wetheral, but I was not authorised to speak beyond its purport. I must now return to her ladyship."

"Stay one instant," resumed Sir John, "and take back my answer. Tell your lady, I will not occupy the time and services, which appear to be required on Lord Ennismore's part. I will order my carriage immediately; but I wish for one moment to take leave of my daughter, Lady Ennismore, ere I leave her to the mournful task of watching by her patient. My daughter and myself are useless, since our exertions cannot benefit Lord Ennismore. I wish to see my daughter, if you please; and I shall be obliged by your conveying my wishes to one of her people."

The attendant of Lady Ennismore retired, and they were again two hours without receiving any interruption. The carriage had been some moments at the door, and Sir John was walking up and down the room with hasty steps, when a note was presented to him, upon a silver waiter, by Lady Ennismore's footman.

"My dear Sir John,

"I cannot wonder at your flight—this is a place of sorrow and sickness, unfit for the healthy and happy. May we meet soon again! Julia and myself dare not quit for a moment our beloved and suffering invalid—he is in great torment.

"Yours most truly,

"E. Ennismore."

Sir John Wetheral rang the bell: a brief pause, and the footman reappeared.

"Is Dr. Anstruther at this moment in the house?"

"I believe the doctor is now with my lord, Sir John."

"I wish to see Dr. Anstruther the instant he quits Lord Ennismore's apartment."

The servant bowed, and disappeared.

"This is hopeless and helpless," observed Sir John; "I can only increase Julia's distress, by remaining at Bedinfield. What use will it be to inquire into the machinations of the Countess, except to reap bitterness, and perceive my inability to rouse the torpid character of her son. My poor Julia's fate depends upon that artful woman's will. It is vain to look on, and witness that which I cannot control."

"But Lord Ennismore is very ill, papa," exclaimed the sorrowing Christobelle. "Lord Ennismore is very ill, and Julia cannot leave him to bid us farewell! Will he die, papa?"

Sir John made no reply to the hurried question. He was struggling with his own emotions. He led his daughter in silence through the file of footmen in the hall to the entrance-door, where his carriage waited, already packed and surmounted by Taylor. Hornby advanced to inform him of Dr. Anstruther's departure from Bedinfield; he had driven away before Sir John's message had been delivered to him. Sir John made no remark; he handed Christobelle into the carriage, and ordered the door to be closed: he did not enter it himself. Christobelle entreated him to join her. "My dear papa, where are you going to ride?"

"In the rumble, my love: the air will do me good. Take Taylor inside."

The exchange was made quickly. Sir John took possession of the rumble, which enabled him to commune with his own thoughts in silence, and they quitted for ever the magnificent home, which Julia's fatal ambition had preferred to the happy days of her singlehood, in the less courtly domain of Wetheral Castle. They left, for ever, the towers of Bedinfield, its wooded hills, its calmly beautiful and luxuriant scenery: they never more beheld its ancient walls, or visited the home of Julia's choice. In ten days after Sir John Wetheral's return into Shropshire, the Bedinfield establishment, including Dr. Anstruther, were on their road to Florence, and it was said Lord Ennismore's health had compelled the sudden and silently arranged movement.