and as Mrs. Curtis had not health to go often | quiet Lady Bountiful duties that had sufficed into society, she had been the more careful her mother and sister were too small and easy where she trusted her daughters. They be- to satisfy a soul burning at the report of the longed to the county by birth and tradition, great cry going up to heaven from a world of and were not to be mixed up with the fleet- sin and woe. The examples of successful ing residents of the watering-place, on whom workers stimulated her longings to be up they never called, unless by special recommen- and doing, and yet the ever difficult question dation from a mutual friend; and the few between charitable works and filial deference permanent inhabitants chanced to be such necessarily detained her, and perhaps all the that a visit to them was in some degree a more because it was not so much the fear of condescension. Perhaps there was more of her mother's authority as of her horror and timidity and caution than of pride in the despair, that withheld her from the decisive mother's exclusiveness, and Grace had always and eccentric steps that she was always feelaequiesced in it as the natural and established ing impelled to take. Gentle Mrs. Curtis state of affairs, without any sense of superi- had never been a visible power in her house, ority, but rather of being protected. She and it was through their desire to avoid had a few alarms as to the results of Rachel's paining her that her government had been new immunities of age, and though never questioning the wisdom of her clever sister's conclusions, dreaded the effect on the mother, whom she had been forbidden to call mamma. "At their age it was affecting an interesting childishness."

exercised over her two daughters ever since their father's death, which had taken place in Grace's seventeenth year. Both she and Grace implicitly accepted Rachel's superiority as an unquestionable fact, and the mother, when traversing any of her clever daughter's schemes, never disputed either her opinions or principles, only entreated that these particular developments might be conceded to her own weakness; and Rachel generally did concede. She could not act; but she could talk uncontradicted, and she hated herself for the enforced submission to a state of things that she despised.

Rachel had had the palm of cleverness conceded to her ever since she could recollect, when she read better at three years old than her sister at five, and ever after, through the days of education, had enjoyed, and exceeded in, the studies that were a toil to Grace. Subsequently, while Grace had contented herself with the ordinary course of unambitious feminine life, Rachel had This twenty fifth birthday had long been thrown herself into the process of self-educa-anticipated as the turning point when this tion with all her natural energy, and carried submissive girlhood ought to close, and the on her favorite studies by every means within privileges of acting as well as thinking for her reach, until she considerably surpassed in herself ought to be assumed. Something to acquirements and reflection all the persons do was her cry, and on this very day that with whom she came in frequent contact. It something seemed to be cast in her way. It was a homely neighborhood, a society well born,, but of circumscribed interests and habits, and little connected with the great progressive world, where, however, Rachel's sympathies all lay, necessarily fed, however, by periodical literature, instead of by conversation or commerce with living minds.

was not ameliorating the condition of the masses, but it was educating those who might ameliorate them; and Rachel gladly hailed the prospect of a vocation, that might be conducted without pain to her mother.

Young children of her own class, were not exactly what her dream of usefulness had de

She began by being stranded on the igno-vised; but she had a decided theory of edurance of those who surrounded her, and found cation already, and began to read up with all herself isolated as a sort of pedant; and as her might, whilst taking the lead in all the time went on, the narrowness of interests details of house-taking, servant-hiring, etc.; chafed her, and in like manner left her alone. to which her regular occupations of night As she grew past girlhood, the cui bono ques-school in the evening, and reading to the lacetion had come to interfere with her ardor in makers by day, became almost secondary. study for its own sake, and she felt the influ- In due time the arrival of the ship was teleence of an age eminently practical and sift- graphed, a hurried and affectionate note foling, but with small powers of acting. The lowed, and, on a bright east-windy afternoon,

was

Rachel Curtis set forth to take up her mis- for the carriage, quite against Rachel's opinsion. A telegram had announced the ar- ion; but "Little Wilfred can sit on my lap, rival of the Voluta," and the train which he has not been well, poor little man,' would bring the travellers to Avonchester. quite conclusive; and when Rachel suggested The Homestead carriage was sent to meet lying back to rest, there was a sweet low them, and Rachel in it, to give her helpless laugh, and, “Oh, no, thank you, Wilfred cousin assistance in this beginning of Eng- never tires me." lish habits. A roomy fly had been engaged for nurses and children, and Mrs. Curtis had put under the coachman's charge a parcel of sandwiches, and instructed him to offer all the appliances for making her own into an invalid carriage.

Full of warm tenderness to those who were to be dependent on her exertions, led by her good sense, Rachel paced the platform till the engine rushed up, and she looked along the line of windows, suddenly bewildered. Doors opened, but gentlemen alone met her disappointed eye, until close to her a soft voice said, "Rachel !" and she saw a figure in deep black close to her; but her hand had been hardly grasped, before the face was turned eagerly to a tall, bearded man, who was lifting out little boy after little boy, apparently in an endless stream, till at last a sleeping baby was brought out in the arms of a nurse.

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Good-by. Thank you, oh, thank you You will come soon. Oh, do come on now." "Do come on now," was echoed by many voices.

"I leave you in good hands. Good-by." "Good-by. Conrade dear, see what Cyril is doing; never mind Wilfred, the Major will come and see us; run on with Coombe." This last was a respectable military-looking servant, who picked up a small child in one hand, and a dressing-case in the other, and awaited orders.

Rachel's first satisfaction was in seeing the veil disclose the face of eight years back; the same soft, clear, olive skin; delicate, oval, and pretty light-brown eyes, with the same imploring, earnest sweetness; no signs of having grown older; no sign of wear and tear, climate, or exertion; only the widow's dress and the presence of the great boys enhancing her soft youthfulness. The smile was certainly changed; it was graver, sadder, tenderer, and only conjured up by maternal affection or in grateful reply; and the blitheness of the young brow had changed to quiet pensiveness, but more than ever there was an air of dependence almost beseeching protection; and Rachel's heart throbbed with Britomart's devotion to her Amoret.

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Why wouldn't the Major come, mam

ma? "
"He will soon come, I hope, my dear."
Those few words gave Rachel a strong an-
tipathy to the Major.

Then began a conversation under difficulties, Fanny trying to inquire after her aunt, and Rachel to detail the arrangements made for her at Myrtlewood, while the two boys were each accommodated with a window; but each moment they were claiming their mother's attention, or rushing across the ladies' feet to each other's window, treating Rachel's knees as a pivot, and vouchsafing not the slightest heed to her attempts at intelligent pointing out of the new scenes.

There was a clinging to the major by all And Fanny made no apology, but seemed the children, only ended by his finally pre- pleased, ready with answers, and with eyes, cipitating himself into the carriage, and be-apparently ignorant that Rachel's toes were ing borne off. Then came a chorus: "Mam- less insensible than her own, and her heavy

ma, let me go with you; "I'll go with three-years-old Wilfred asleep on her lap all mamma ;" ;""Me go with mamma; "'accord- the time. ing to the gradations of age.

While Coombe and mamma decided the question by lifting the lesser ones into the fly, Rachel counted heads. Her mission exceeded her expectations. Here was a pair of boys in knickerbockers, a pair in petticoats, a pair in pelisses, besides the thing in arms. When the fly had been nearly crammed, the two knickerbockers and one pelisse remained

"She, feeble, helpless, sickly!" thought Rachel," I should have been less tired, had I walked the twenty miles! "

She gave up talking in despair, and by the time the young gentlemen had tired themselves into quiescence, and began to eat the provisions, both ladies were glad to be allowed a little silence.

Coming over the last hill, Conrade roused

1

at his mother's summons to look out at themselves, and the cousins felt as if it would "home," and every word between them be hopeless to endeavour to apply them. showed how fondly Avonmouth had been remembered far away.

"The sea!" said Fanny, leaning forwards to catch sight of the long gray line; " it is hard to believe we have been on it so long, this seems so much more my own."

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There's plenty of care for you both to take," said Fanny, half-smiling, half-sobbing. The major says I need not be a poor creature, and I will try. But I am afraid I shall be on all your hands."

Both boys drummed on her knee in wrath at her presuming to call herself a poor creature, -Conrade glaring at Rachel as if to accuse her of the calumny.

"See the church," said Lady Temple, glad to divert the storm, and eagerly looking at the slender spire surmounting the bell-turret of a small building in early-decorated style, new, but somewhat stained by sea-wind, without having as yet acquired the tender tints of time. 66 How beautiful!" was her cry. "You were beginning the collection for it when I went away! How we used to wish

for it."

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Servants had been engaged conditionally, and the house was fully ready, but the young mother could hardly listen to her aunt's explanations in her anxiety that the little ones should be rested and fed, and she responded with semi-comprehending thanks, while moving on with her youngest in her arms, and as many hanging to her dress as could get hold of it. Her thanks grew more emphatic at the sight of cribs in inviting order, and all things ready for a meal.

The Temple form of shyness seemed to consist in ignoring strangers; but being neither abashed nor silenced, only resenting or avoiding all attempts at intercourse; and as the boys rushed in and out of the rooms, exploring, exclaiming, and calling mamma, to the interruption of all that was going on, only checked for a few minutes by her uplifted hand, and gentle hush, Grace saw her mother so stunned and bewildered that she rejoiced Yes, we did," said Rachel, with a sig-in the fear of cold that had decided that nificant sigh; but her cousin had no time Rachel alone should spend the evening there. to attend, for they were turning in a pepper- Fanny made some excuses; she longed to see box lodge. The boys were told that they more of her aunt; but when they were a litwere arrived, and they were at the door of a tle more settled, and as a fresh shout broke sort of overgrown Swiss cottage, where Mrs. out, she was afraid they were rather unruly; Curtis and Grace stood ready to receive them. she must come and talk to her at the dear There was a confusion of embraces, fond- homestead. So kind of Rachel to stay-not lings, and tears, as Fanny clung to the aunt, that the boys seemed to think so, as they who had been a mother to her,—perhaps a went racing in and out, stretching their shipmore tender one than the ruling, managing spi- bound legs, and taking possession of the mirit, whom she hardly had known in her child-nute shrubbery, which they scorned for the hood; but it was only for a moment, for want of gum-trees and parrots. Wilfred shrieked out in an access of shyness "You wont mind, Rachel, dear. I must at Grace's attempt to make acquaintance first see about baby; "' and Rachel was left with him; Francis was demanding, "Where's to reflect on her mission, while the boy's feet the orderly? and Conrade looking brimful of cantered up and down the house, and one or wrath at any one who made his mother cry. other of them would look in, and burst away Moreover, the fly had arrived, and the remain- in search of mamma. der had to be produced, named, and kissed,— Conrade and Francis, Leoline and Hubert, Wilfred and Cyril, and little Stephana, the baby. Really the names were a study in

THIRD SERIES. LIVING AGE. VOL. XXVI. 1237

Little more satisfactory was the rest of the evening, for the boys took a great deal of waiting on at tea, and then some of the party would not go to sleep in strange beds

66

without long persuasions and comfortings, | hands with Rachel, became abrupt and hesitill Fanny looked so weary that it was plain tating. that no conversation could have been hoped My call is-is early, Lady Temple; but from her, even if the baby ħad been less voci- I always pay my respects at once to any new ferous. All that could be done for her was parishioner-resident, I mean-in case I can to wish her good-night, and promise to come be of any service." down early.

“Thank you, I am very much obliged," said Fanny, with a sweet, gracious smile and manner that would have made him more at ease at once, if Rachel had not added, “ My cousin is quite at home here, Mr. Touchett.'

"I know no place in England so well; it is quite a home to me, so beautiful it is," continued Fanny.

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And you see great changes here." "Changes so much for the better," said Fanny, smiling her winning smile again.

"One always expects more from improvements than they effect," put in Rachel, severely.

"You have a large young party," said Mr. Touchett, looking uneasily towards Lady Temple.

"Yes, I have half a dozen boys and one little girl."

"Seven!" Mr. Touchett looked up half incredulous at the girlish contour of the gentle face, then cast down his eyes as if afraid he had been rude. Seven! It is-it is a great charge.'

66

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Yes, indeed it is," she said, earnestly; "and I am sure you will be kind enough to give your influence to help me with them— poor boys."

"Oh! oh!" he exclaimed, anything I can do ❞—in such a transport of eager helpfulness that Rachel coldly said, “We are all anxious to assist in the care of the children.” He colored up, and with a sort of effort at

And a very long seeing it was, probably meaning that she unpacked the box herself, whilst Rachel was deciding on the terrible spoiling of the children, and preparing a re-self-assertion, blurted out, "As the clergymonstrance.

66

man of the parish," and there halted, and

"Dear Rachel, you have been left a long was beginning to look foolish, when Lady time." Temple took him up in her soft, persuasive way. "Of course we shall look to you so much, and you will be so kind as to let me know if there is any one I can send any broth to at any time."

Oh, never mind that: but, Fanny, you must not give way to those children too much; they will be always- Hark! was that the door-bell?

Thank you you are very good ; " ́and he was quite himself again. 66 I shall have the pleasure of sending you down a few

It was, and the visitor was announced as "Mr. Touchett; "a small, dark, thin young clergyman he was, of a nervous manner, which, growing more nervous as he shook names.”