Bedinfield appeared a kingly residence. The mansion stood before the traveller's gaze, with its towers and battlements, grand and imposing to the view. Had Lady Wetheral accompanied her husband, she would have decided that happiness must reign uncontrolled in that most stately dwelling. There was grandeur and repose in the scene, as they advanced to the massive pile of building; and there was stately ceremony enforced, when they arrived at its portals.

It was seven by the chapel clock, when Sir John Wetheral and his daughter entered the hall of Bedinfield, and a train of footmen in gorgeous livery bandied their names, till they were ushered into a vast apartment, richly carved in oak. It was untenanted: there was a vase of rare exotics upon a small silver table, which some hand had apparently quitted in haste, for some of the flowers had fallen upon the Persian carpet, and their stalks were wet and freshly gathered. Christobelle's young ideas had considered Wetheral Castle the criterion of elegance, and her eager curiosity examined with surprise the magnificent decoration around. The superb silver tables—the costly cabinets—the whole style of grand simplicity delighted her taste, and astonished her mind. She turned to her father with feelings of ecstasy.

"Can there be any thing more grand than this, papa? Can any place be more superbly beautiful? Oh, look at that lovely cabinet—that row of cabinets—and those paintings! How happy Julia must be!"

"Does all this create happiness, Chrystal?"

"Oh no, that was a wrong word—but how pleased Julia must be, looking at these things, and thinking they are her own! But why does not Julia come to us, papa? Did not she expect us to-day?"

Sir John paused, as he was accompanying Christobelle in her passage up the apartment, and he addressed her with seriousness.

"Chrystal, make no observations of any kind, and ask no questions of me, or of Julia. I expect great prudence from you. You are now my companion and friend, and you must learn to veil much surprise, by silence. Be very prudent, my child, and remark nothing to your sister."

"I will be very prudent, papa," answered Christobelle, in a whisper. The vastness of the room, and the mystery expressed in her father's words, struck her with awe. She already felt as though silence must reign with so much grandeur, and that liberty of speech dwelt not in lofty apartments. She continued silently examining a portrait of extreme beauty, which she was aware represented the Dowager Lady Ennismore, in her youth. It still retained a considerable degree of likeness—the eye could never change—its extraordinary expression was there—and the haughty look, subdued by the collision of high society, was admirably expressed in the painting. Christobelle was irresistibly attracted by the portrait, and she gazed upon it till a door opened near her, and roused her attention. A female attendant approached. She was a tall, stately person, attired with peculiar neatness and precision. She brought Lady Ennismore's compliments of welcome. Her ladyship invited her guests to retire to their apartments. She would have the pleasure of meeting them in the drawing-room when the great bell pealed, and after her guests had refreshed themselves by changing their attire.

Sir John Wetheral advanced, slightly bowing to the stately messenger.

"I believe I address an attendant of Lady Ennismore?"

"I have the honour to attend the Dowager Countess of Ennismore," was the reply.

"Your message is from Lady Ennismore, my daughter, is it not?" observed Sir John, anxiously.

"My message is from the Dowager Countess," replied her attendant.

"Lady Ennismore is probably from home?"

"The young Lady Ennismore is in her dressing-room," was the answer. "I am deputed to attend Miss Wetheral to her apartment."

This was extraordinary. Was not Bedinfield the property of Julia and her lord? Yet the message of compliment was tendered by the Countess Dowager, as if she still presided over the mind and estate of her son. There was something gravely suspicious in this coldly polite reception, which disturbed the father's heart. Christobelle begged to know if her room was situated near her father's bedchamber, and she turned to him with a look of earnest alarm. He smiled.

"Miss Wetheral feels a little nervous among strangers; may I inquire if the rooms destined for us are near each other?"

"They are near," was the laconic reply, and Christobelle prepared to depart. A servant entering at the moment, to offer his services to Sir John, they proceeded together to the great gallery, into which their apartments opened. The stately female pointed to a heavily-carved oak-door, as she preceded Christobelle. "Sir John Wetheral sleeps in the crimson chamber." She then threw open the door of a large gloomy room appropriated to Christobelle. "Yours, Miss Wetheral, is the tapestried chamber." She then curtseyed and withdrew.

Taylor was in a dressing-room adjoining, laying out her young lady's wardrobe, and Christobelle surveyed the horrors of the tapestried chamber, which she was sure would in itself disturb her slumbers. The "Murder of the Innocents" stood in enormous proportions at the bottom of the room facing her bed, which was decorated with sable plumes round its summit. The brawny arms of the soldiery seizing the young children, their dreadful eyes, and the weapons they brandished over the heads of the hapless babes, took effect upon her imagination, and terrified her. Christobelle was quite sure the glare of the high wax-lights, when she retired for the night, would raise them into living bodies, that would "live, and move, and have their being," to her extremity of terror. The deep recesses, the dark oak furniture—all and each combined to render the room terrible. She would have given worlds to be at that moment even in the boudoir at Wetheral.

Sir John tapped at his daughter's door, as he prepared to descend to the drawing-room: Christobelle was dressed, and ready to accompany him. She begged him to see her safely to her room-door every night, and confessed her alarm at the idea of passing so many hours in a place so full of horrors. If he could only see the horrid objects which glared round the walls of her room, he would not wonder at her disquietude!

Sir John endeavoured to reason Christobelle into calmness, and he inquired why her rest should be disturbed by pictorial representations of Scripture history. Was not the hand of her Maker as mercifully stretched forth to uphold her among gobelin tapestry, as in the paper hangings of Wetheral? Christobelle acknowledged it was so. She was silenced; she did not offer any defence for her alarms, but she could not suppress them. That chamber would never be her "sleeping" apartment. She should never be able to close her eyes.

A servant was in waiting to announce them, as they descended into the hall. The folding-doors were thrown open, their names were called over with proper emphasis, and they found themselves in the presence of Lord and Lady Ennismore, and the Countess-dowager. The latter rose, and advanced with her usual suavity. She took both Sir John's hands in hers.

"My dear Sir John, this is a real and unexpected honour. I am delighted to see you. Miss Wetheral, you are welcome: Julia is anxious, I see, to appropriate you—fly to her, my love. We are a small family-party, you see, Sir John Wetheral; but we shall endeavour to amuse you at Bedinfield. Lady Wetheral is well, I hope."

Sir John replied in courteous terms, that his lady was in health.

"I hope you will find our dear Julia well, and as handsome as ever. Our Staffordshire air is excellent, and Julia's bloom is, I think, increased. Julia, I must not monopolise your father. It would not be just, so I resign him with reluctance."

The Dowager led Sir John towards the young Lady Ennismore, who received him with almost wild fondness. Lord Ennismore also came forward.

"I have much pleasure in bidding you welcome, Sir John Wetheral, as also yourself, Miss Wetheral. I hope I see you both in good health."

Lord Ennismore bowed low, and resumed his seat. The Dowager Lady Ennismore spoke for her son.

"My dear Ennismore feels with me the honour and pleasure of this unexpected visit. I have much to show Sir John, now that he has favoured us with his company. I shall do the honours of the Park to him, with great pleasure, and request his opinion upon our new lodge."

"You will doubtless, my dear mother, show our guest, Sir John, the new line of road through the plantations."

"My dear Ennismore, our very first drive will be through the plantations. I am proud to exhibit your taste; it will always hold its place in my mind, as our lion of Bedinfield."

"It was not my suggestion, my dear mother," replied the poor, dull-looking Lord Ennismore.

"My dear son, you approved of my idea, which makes it your own affair. The new drive is certainly an affair of your own carrying out. I had little to do with it. The architect, you know, is secondary. The filling up requires knowledge and taste: that was your part, dear Augustus."

A smile of satisfaction stole over the pallid face of Lord Ennismore, but it could not light up the leaden expression of his eyes, as they rested upon his mother's face.

"I am glad you think highly of that road, my dear mother."

"I think it the finest work upon the estate, my dear son. I was trying to inoculate Julia with my enthusiastic delight, yesterday."

"Julia does not admire it as you do," observed Lord Ennismore, rising from the chair near his lady, and taking a seat by his mother.

"We are not all granted the same tastes," replied her ladyship. "Bedinfield has been my home many years, and you, my dear Augustus, were born here. It must be a cherished place to my heart."

"I hope it will be always your home."

Lord Ennismore took his mother's hand, and held it in his, till dinner was announced.

Julia did not hear the conversation which took place between Lord Ennismore and her mother-in-law, neither did she observe her lord's change of situation: she was learning the news of Wetheral from her father's lips, and her whole attention was fixed upon him, and the communications which deeply touched her heart. Christobelle heard her complain of the silence of all her friends: she dwelt with energy upon the silence of Miss Wycherly, and mourned to think how slightly her friendship had stood the trial of a few months' absence. She had invited Penelope to visit Bedinfield, but even politeness had not elicited an answer from Lidham. She felt very keenly the conduct of her early friends, but Lady Ennismore had warned her seriously that such would be the case, and her kindness was Julia's greatest consolation.

"Have you not once heard from Penelope?" asked her father, speaking low.

"I have never received a letter from Shropshire since I married, papa." Julia's eyes filled with tears at the thought of estranged affections.

"Penelope charged me with many messages, Julia. She desired me to say that, absent or silent, her heart was unchanged, and Lidham was your home, equally with Bedinfield and Wetheral."

"Dear Penelope!" exclaimed Julia, with clasped hands, "I was loth to think she loved me less; but her happy lot should not make her silent to her old friend!"

Julia's movement attracted the attention of the Dowager. She addressed herself again to Sir John.

"My dear Sir John, what do you think of Staffordshire scenery? We do not relinquish the palm of beauty to any county in the southern part of Great Britain. Tell me exactly your route."

Sir John gave a concise statement of their little journey, which was commented upon by her ladyship with vivacity. She entered into descriptions of Staffordshire scenery, and the Staffordshire aristocracy, with increasing energy, keeping all attention engaged towards herself, and allowing no respite for recommencing a conversation with Julia. Lady Ennismore chatted even through the immense hall, and to the very dinner-table. Christobelle also watched the elder Lady Ennismore with uncontrollable surprise take her seat at the head of the table, while Julia quietly placed herself at her father's side. Christobelle looked at her father, to observe his movements; she did not meet his eye; his expression of countenance and manner was very grave, but he gave no evidence of having noticed the circumstance: he was conversing with Julia upon the arrival of the Tom Pynsents.

The dinner passed in solemn grandeur. The party was too limited for general conversation, and the presence of many servants checked all approach to remarks beyond commonplace allusion to the weather and climate of Staffordshire. Christobelle admired the simplicity of the apartment, in its magnificent proportions and grand style of architecture, but she was glad when the meal concluded, and the servants were withdrawn.

The Dowager Lady Ennismore was then seen to great advantage: Christobelle could not help admiring the perfection of manners which rendered her so fascinating to every one with whom she came in contact. In spite of Julia's position, so decidedly a position of disadvantage to herself, and improper, as the wife of Lord Ennismore—in the very face of that impropriety, in spite of dislike to Lady Ennismore, as the cause of Julia's present situation, Christobelle beheld her with a powerful admiration. She was attracted by that refined attention, that power of pleasing, so delicate, so full of tact, accompanied by great personal beauty, which takes the senses captive, even while we struggle against its power. She admired the witchery of her eyes, as she glanced upon each person those captivating and flattering meanings, which few minds could resist: and she was, beyond expression, charmed by the attentions which were offered to her youthful age, which fell like oil upon the waters. The Dowager was long past her premiÈre jeunesse; yet the vivacity of her conversation, and the propriety of her style of dress, threw over her whole person an air of indescribable attraction. Sir John appeared to watch her ladyship with deep attention; no wonder, then, that Christobelle's unsuspicious age drank largely of her fascination, that she could never imagine the deep wickedness of her nature, or believe such winning manners concealed an imperious and dangerous spirit. Her whole attention was fixed exclusively upon the Dowager Lady Ennismore.

All moved together into the drawing-room. The Countess laughingly apologised for the abstemious habits of Bedinfield, and expressed her gratification that her dear son never loved the pleasures of the table—pleasures altogether so gross, so unintellectual, that she wondered gentlemen could lend themselves to an enervating and disgusting consumer of existence.

"We are very sober people, Sir John, and our little family-trio never separate after dinner. I consider you in that affectionate light also, therefore we will not lose each other's society during your stay. I must have you form a little ring round me, that I may enjoy the conversation of each. My dear Miss Wetheral, you must remain near me; I do not forget my young friend. My dearest Julia, you will take your little siesta as usual."

Julia declined a siesta; she expressed her indisposition to sleep; she wished to listen to her father, and ask for Shropshire news. She could not sleep while her father and sister remained at Bedinfield.

"My dearest Julia, I shall be seriously uneasy. My dear son, let us prevail upon Julia not to forego her siesta, so very strongly recommended by Dr. Anstruther, so very necessary to her health at this time!"

"My dear mother, you are always right; I agree with you, and think Lady Ennismore should not omit her siesta," observed his lordship, looking particularly dull.

"I do not feel its necessity now at all, dear mother," observed Julia, affectionately pressing Lady Ennismore's hand, and looking beseechingly in her face. "My dear father and Chrystal take away all inclination to sleep."

"I will not lose my daughter for all the world can offer," exclaimed the Dowager, throwing her arms round Julia. "My dear Julia, will you not oblige me?"

"But, dearest Lady Ennismore, this one evening, just to talk of Wetheral!"

"My love, I trust your father is intending to honour us some days. Ennismore and myself are uneasy. You will not give us disquietude, Julia? Sir John will not advocate an abrupt change of system, I feel assured. Oblige us, my dearest Julia."

Julia arose to give pleasure; when did she ever resist solicitation! She gave her father an affectionate salute: "Dear papa, I shall not be long away from you. Lady Ennismore is so fearful of my health, that a siesta is considered indispensable. Perhaps Chrystal will lull me to sleep by tales of Wetheral. Come with me, Chrystal."

The Countess caught Christobelle's hand as she rose to accompany Julia.

"My dear young friend, I fear I must appear a monster, but I am apprehensive; my Julia must repose, not converse with dear and near relations. It is too exciting for her. My dear Julia never gives disquietude—she is aware of my alarms. Oblige me and Ennismore, dear Julia."

Julia retired with unwilling steps. Lord Ennismore gave his arm to his lady, and escorted her to the door of her dressing-room; he then returned to his mother's side. She watched him for some moments with an anxious expression; and, while Sir John examined some exquisite paintings, Christobelle heard the following dialogue between Lady Ennismore and her son; it took place in a low tone of voice, as if it was not intended to reach other ears.

"My dear Augustus, have you taken your dinner pill?"

"Yes; and the powder half an hour previous to the pill."

"I hope and believe Julia reminded you of it; I am glad she was so thoughtful, dear girl."

"No, my dear mother, it was your hint; don't you remember saying this afternoon something about dinner pills? It put me in mind of taking one."

"Was it my hint, my dear son? Mothers are foolishly attentive creatures, Augustus; they are always so apprehensive. I often fear I am wearisome!"

"You never can be wearisome in attending to my pills, my dear mother. I should be very unwell without them."

"My darling Julia forgets, Augustus; it is not, I am sure, intentional."

"But you never forget. Julia did not pour out my soda-water this morning. I was quite ill for half an hour."

"Young wives are thoughtless creatures, Augustus. A mother, you know, has an old, reflecting head upon her shoulders."

"I am very glad you did not leave us, my dear mother; Julia would have poisoned me by this time."

"Oh, no, my dear son, not quite so bad as that; some few mistakes, perhaps, but not so fearful a catastrophe. I could wish you to call upon the Delancy's to-morrow, Augustus; the General very much wished to ask your opinion upon some political point."

"Certainly I will call at Huish, if you wish it."

"Julia will ride with you: the world should see you always together. It is politic, at any rate. I will——" Lady Ennismore's voice sunk into a whisper. Again Christobelle caught her words.

"It won't be a long affair. Make a round of calls, and that will fill up time, you know." Another long whisper. "My dear Sir John, you are pleased with that Spagnoletti; it is a picture of great merit. The late Lord Ennismore was a great collector."

Her ladyship spoke now of pictures: she gave the history of each painting, and detailed the research of her late lord, who travelled through Europe in order to form the splendid collection at Bedinfield. When Lady Ennismore ceased speaking, it was time for coffee, and Julia's reappearance was anxiously expected by her sister. With the same punctilious attention, Lord Ennismore again left the apartment, and returned with his lady under his arm. He placed her near the Countess, made his bow, and offered to sweeten her cup of coffee, with a cold formality and an unexpressive smile. Julia looked pleased by the unmeaning attention.

"Have you slept, dearest Julia?" asked the Countess, as she sipped her coffee.

"No, indeed; I thought of Wetheral, and I could not close my eyes. I wish I had been allowed to remain here, dearest mother."

"Naughty girl!" Her ladyship tapped Julia's arm lightly. "How can you trifle with my anxiety? Sir John, how is our dear Julia looking?"

"She looks in excellent health. Julia always enjoyed good health," said her father; "she was the blooming rose at Wetheral."

"We watch over her with infinite anxiety," returned the Countess. "What should we do, my dear lord, without Julia?"

Lord Ennismore cast a heavy glance upon Julia, and smiled. "Dr. Anstruther is considered clever; I trust no unfortunate accident will occur at Bedinfield. You, my dear mother, are extremely quick-sighted, and will avert much that is unpleasant."

"You flatter me, my dear lord; but my fears create watchfulness, and often, I fear, give disturbance to my sweet Julia. Sir John, we are a whist party; may I challenge you to play? I shall give my young friend the range of our library as her amusement. I remember Miss Wetheral's taste for reading. My poor memory does yet retain the remembrance of my friends' tastes. My dear lord will be so honoured in the task of introducing you to his library. Allow me to light a taper."

The Countess rose with graceful ease and lightness of step to effect her purpose. Lord Ennismore rose also, and bowed to Christobelle. He spoke so heavily, and with such dull precision.

"I shall have pleasure in doing the honours of the Bedinfield library to Miss Wetheral. I cannot flatter myself it surpasses the very handsome collection at Wetheral Castle, nevertheless, it claims distinction. Do me the honour, Miss Wetheral, to accept my arm."

Christobelle placed her arm within the awkwardly-extended elbow which Lord Ennismore held out for acceptance, and they proceeded to the library. His lordship stood in the centre of the room, and harangued with the tone and manner of a showman who describes by rote what his mind cannot understand.

"You see here, my agreeable Miss Wetheral, a collection of the best authors. To the right you will perceive the most approved ancients; to the left, the most approved moderns. Before us you will observe a splendidly-bound collection of the works of our novelists, such as Fielding, &c.; and, behind us, there is an equally select collection of plays, from our great Shakespeare to almost the present hour."

"This is a magnificent library, Lord Ennismore, indeed."

"It is considered so, Miss Wetheral. Bedinfield has long held pre-eminence in Staffordshire; perhaps I am not wrong in asserting its superiority to many mansions in the neighbouring counties."

"I will, my lord, if you please, borrow Shakespeare while you are at cards. I promise to replace the book."

"We have a librarian, who replaces the different works, and attends to the thing, Miss Wetheral; do not give yourself the trouble. My mother arranges every thing with perfect order."

"Not Julia, then?" she exclaimed in astonishment, and without reflection. "Does not my sister Julia arrange every thing at Bedinfield?"

"No, Miss Wetheral; the Countess-dowager has the management of my affairs. I should be extremely sorry to remove the control of every thing into other hands. The Countess-dowager conducts the establishment at Bedinfield."

"I thought the Countess was on a visit! I really thought Julia and yourself lived at Bedinfield." Christobelle looked with extreme surprise at Lord Ennismore.

"The Countess-dowager remains with us," returned his lordship. "We were anxious to retain my dear mother at Bedinfield. She is kind enough to transact all affairs for me. I am not fond of business; and the Countess-dowager thinks I am unequal in my health to severe attention upon any subject. I am very fortunate in possessing a relation who considers it almost an amusement to overlook the concerns of Bedinfield."

"Julia was always extremely clever," exclaimed Christobelle, anxious to do justice to her talents. "Julia was always considered extremely clever at Wetheral."

"No one can equal my mother in cleverness, Miss Wetheral: every thing is in excellent order, and I am always supplied with money when I require it. The Countess-dowager attends even to my private accounts: I have no trouble."

"But Julia attends to her own expenses, Lord Ennismore?"

"The Countess-dowager is kind enough to attend to every thing, Miss Wetheral."

The library-door opened, and the "Countess-dowager" appeared, leaning upon Julia's arm. She bantered Christobelle and her son upon their long absence.

"You are as partial to reading the titles of books as Dr. Johnson, if that has been your occupation. My lord has been very anxious to do the honours properly, Miss Wetheral."

"We were not altogether talking of books," replied his lordship, mechanically offering his arm to Julia.

"What could interest you so much, Miss Wetheral? If books were not your subject, let us also enjoy your remarks." The Countess fixed her eyes upon Christobelle with a searching expression. Christobelle coloured, but remained silent.

"My dear mother, we were talking of you," said Lord Ennismore, taking her hand.

"Of me, Augustus? I cannot think I can form a subject for Miss Wetheral's contemplation. Pray let us return into the drawing-room." This was spoken in a tone of slight displeasure.

"I never think any one can speak of you, my dear mother, without pleasure. I like to talk of you."

"I am sure, dearest mother, you are the subject of conversation to thousands," cried Julia, with tenderness, laying her hand upon her ladyship's arm.

"My dear children, you are very flattering in your affection." Lady Ennismore's countenance resumed its bland expression. "I must feel happy in the love of two beings so dear to me. May we always continue united, my beloved children! Miss Wetheral, you are surprised at this little scene."

The group returned into the drawing-room. Lady Ennismore arranged the whist party, as she arranged every thing connected with Bedinfield, and Christobelle sat near the table, reading her favourite Shakespeare. The whist party broke up to partake of a slight refreshment, and it was then time to separate for the night. Christobelle did hope Julia would have accompanied her to the tapestried chamber, but she retired with Lady Ennismore, after "good nights" were mutually expressed. Christobelle was escorted to her room by her father in silence. She wished much to speak to him, and inform him of her short colloquy with Lord Ennismore; she therefore begged him to stay with her a few minutes.

"Come into my room, Chrystal; I have no lady's maid to overhear my words."

Christobelle crossed the broad gallery, and entered the crimson chamber. It was hung with dark crimson satin, as gloomy but not so appalling as the tapestried apartment. She then told her father the substance of her conversation in the library, and also remarked upon Lady Ennismore's look of displeasure. He listened gravely to the disclosure, and observed, "Yes, I fancied so—I can see it all."

"What do you see, papa?"

"You would not comprehend my views if I expressed them, my love; your life is young, and at present my remarks would be mysteries to your innocent mind. The world will gradually enlighten you to evil, when your part is to be played upon its stage: till then, remain untainted and happy. But when you enter upon its cares, bear in mind the necessity of holding fast integrity. It secures happiness here and hereafter. And now, good night, my dear Chrystal."

Christobelle returned to her room, and beheld the large eyes of a giant-centurion fixed upon her. She could not struggle against alarm; and Taylor sat by her till she fell asleep. She endeavoured to amuse her young mistress by a description of the scenes which were taking place in the lower department of Bedinfield.

"Lord help us, Miss Wetheral, if you could but see the pride of the two butlers, Mr. Spice and Mr. Hornby! Miss, they won't look at, or speak to, the other servants; and the great housekeeper, with her two helpers, sit in a room by themselves. Mr. Spice only stands by the sideboard, and Mr. Hornby behind my lady the Countess, just to look at. And do you know, miss—poor Miss Julia that was—is considered nobody at all. Every thing is my Lady Countess."

"Do they think so, Taylor?"

"I hear the servants that I associate with, miss, make strange observations, as we do sometimes talk over things amongst ourselves; and they say that the Lady Countess is a very determined woman, and manages my lord completely. Poor Miss Julia has no power at all; but the Lady Countess is very kind-spoken to her, and they say Miss Julia is very content to be put on one side."

"Lady Ennismore, if you please, Taylor."

"Ah! she is no Lady Ennismore, miss, unless she has her proper situation in this house. As to my lord, miss, I assure you the footmen speak of him in a very odd way."

"In what way?"

"Why one of them said openly at supper the word 'ass,' Miss Wetheral; and another said he couldn't follow his nose without the Lady Countess at his side: they all pity poor Miss Julia, and say she is too good for him."

"I shall tell papa, Taylor."

"Oh, gracious, Miss Wetheral! don't bring me up about such things; I really couldn't appear, upon my oath, before any one, for the world. I must hold my tongue."

"No, speak on, Taylor: you must talk me to sleep."

"Well, indeed, miss! The footman, Number 7, as they call him—for they are called out by number, not by name—has been some years at Bedinfield; and he says the Lady Countess had great power over her husband, the late lord. She was always bland and agreeable to speak to, if nothing offended her, but Number 7 says it was a sight to see her angry. She never forgave any one, and will allow no one to differ with her. Miss Julia is so gentle! that's one thing; she will never offend; but if she ever does, Number 7 says it will be the worse for her."

"How can Number 7 tell any thing, Taylor?"

"Oh! Miss Wetheral, he says things very hard to believe; but no one contradicted him. He says his lady will never part with power till she is in her grave, and that Miss Julia will only lead a quiet life while she gives way. I think my Lady Kerrison and my Lady Ennismore have not done so well, miss, though they are quality. I must say I should like to be first in my own house—I should expect—if my husband—indeed, says I—"

Taylor's words appeared broken, and they gradually became extinct. Christobelle fell asleep during her lengthy speech.