addressing them is to address their wills. Thus you may relieve them from the heaviest incubus: to lift a feather from off them by any other means is a Herculean labour-to lift a mountain a useless one."

"If you will dine with me to-day, we will talk again of this matter," said Eustace.

CHAPTER XII.

Even from the bottom of these miseries,
From all that Fortune can inflict upon us,

I see two comforts rising, two mere blessings,-
A brave patience,

And the enjoying of our griefs together.

FLETCHER.

OUR heroine passed a fortnight of such alarming illness, after her interview with Mrs. Hartenfield, that her friends thought it necessary to keep her in ignorance of her brother's proceedings. She was indebted for a knowledge of them to another quarter.

One morning, while she was still confined to her chamber, Miss Vyvyan, who was her constant nurse, observed that she had been weeping, but of course she asked no questions; and though she was not aware of the quarrel, she thought that a note, of which Mrs. Hartenfield's servant was the bearer, sufficiently explained her niece's emotion. In a few minutes, Honoria became un

usually cheerful, declared that she was quite recovered, begged Miss Vyvyan to take an airing in the carriage, walked with tottering steps into a sitting-room which adjoined her chamber, and told her aunt she might send Charles Vyvyan to amuse her.

As soon as the youth arrived, she asked him if he did not think she was looking particularly well. There was a convenient équivoque in the words, and he replied very conscientiously in the affirmative.

"I knew I was: what a good, kind cousin you are, Charles! You will do me a favour, will you not?" said she, sitting down beside him, and putting her arm within his.

"Any in the world.”

"I knew you would; but you must promise not to make any objection to whatever I set you to do."

"Very well."

"But promise

"If it is not to do you any harm.”

"Oh, you may say any thing is likely to do me harm, you know. You should not dress your hair that way, Charles, you should put it off your forehead on each side; so❞—parting the locks as she spoke with her delicate fingers. "Will you

promise-?" bending her cheek so low that it nearly came into contact with his lips.

"Whatever you like."

"There's a dear cousin! Now order a coach without telling any one, and I will come to you directly."

When the youth returned from his singular commission, he found Honoria shawled and bonneted. He made some remonstrances; but she insisted on the solemn obligation of a promise, said she should go without him if he would not accompany her, and desired him to put her into the coach, like a good boy, and ask no questions.

"But I must hear where we are going," he said, as he handed her in, "for the coachman's information."

"To Newgate," she replied; "tell him to make haste."

All her assumed high spirits vanished when she spoke to Charles of the rash step her brother had taken, and her determination to see him; but she contrived to hide her feelings, and requested Charles to give her an account of his conversation with the little girl at Mr. Hartenfield's.

"I fancy I should have remembered it at all events," said Charles, "for I never lighted upon

such an odd little monkey before; but I thought I had better write it down, so you shall have it from my notes. When I had dislodged the girl from her hiding-place, I asked her what she was afraid of, as she did not care for me. 'Oh, I did not want Mr. Hartenfield to see me, nor aunt Hartenfield neither; but I am not shy for all that, not the least,-my brother would never let me be shy.'-'Who is your brother?'' Marmaduke Rumbold.""

"I have often heard Eustace speak of him," said Honoria.

"I asked her if she was Mrs. Hartenfield's niece. No,' she said, 'I am not her own physical niece, but I have adopted her to be my aunt.' 'Physical niece! what do you mean?'-' Don't you know? but you boys never understand philosophy if you are ever so well dressed.' (A stroke at Eton, you see, cousin.)"

"What is the age of this little philosopher?"

"About ten or twelve, I should imagine. I laughed too much to make any defence of my philosophy, and she proceeded to ask me whether I was married.—'No.'-' Are you going to be?'I began to feel alarmed, but she soon removed my apprehensions. 'I am,' she said. Not immediately, I suppose?'-'Very soon; I am going to be married to Mr. Conway.'-'What Mr.