"I must begin anew, and begin this very day. I see that I must humble myself, and deny myself, or nothing will be done. I wonder how I should begin."

Florence was interrupted that evening by a tap at her door. It was Maurice. Throwing himself on the hearth-rug at her feet, he said, "Mrs. Dalgleish, would you like Mabel to learn with me?"

"I certainly should, Maurice. You would find her a most interesting companion. She would not keep you back for the short time you are to be with me."

"Thank you," he said, "I will ask her." He would have gone then, but Mrs. Dalgleish detained him in conversation on other subjects.

Maurice's amende to Mabel was not boy-like, but it was characteristic.

"Cousin Mabel, will you do me the honour of studying with me?"

Very quiet, but very steady, were the tones. Mabel could not refuse the outstretched hand, the deep earnest eyes, that showed him so sincere in his request.

Oh, Cousin Maurice," she said, "I'm afraid I'm too far behind you."

"Do not think of that," he said. "We may both help one another.”

G

CHAPTER IX.

Have we not all presumed that life
Should bring the good we sought to gain;
Presumed that Self should win the strife,
And laurell'd stand upon the plain?

Vow'd to be good, and kind, and strong,
Reading an ancient chivalry;
Resolved to conquer innate wrong,
Taught by a high philosophy;

Till, failing, oft, 'we learn to place
Our lore of books upon the shelves,
And humbly pray that God's good grace
May save us chiefly from ourselves.

WHEN Maurice once made up his mind to a thing he never did it by halves. His cousin was quite unable to join him in some of his studies, from the fact of her being quite new to them. The fairy bower of the classics had not as yet been profaned by her womanly tread; the higher studies on which he was engaged were a Mohammed's Paradise so far as she was concerned; but Maurice lent her his books, offered her his help, and even went so far as to enlist Mrs. Dalgleish's

sympathy in the new field of thought upon which she was entering. So, with timid step, the proud, happy girl bent her ear to listen to the music in which the Greeks expressed their ideal grace; simultaneously she studied the tongue of ancient Rome; she read books of philosophy and essays, metaphysic in their aim and tone, because Maurice read them, and because, too, she had a craving intellect, which was ever demanding Give, give;" which could not satisfy itself on light or frivolous literature. Maurice watched her progress with calm sympathy and satisfaction, Florence with delight.

"Why had God been so good to her ?" she asked, "as to give her pupils so worthy of the pains she took, so responsive to the harmonies of her own nature. Not one of all the little circle who did not prove to be a very pleasant child. Yes, she was in green pastures; the quiet stream by which she walked was lotus-laden, lily-bordered, and she could not but hope that it would remain so for some years to come. It was true she must lose Maurice; but she should still see much of him, and his affection for her seemed to be as sincere as hers was for him.

Then Florence, in the quiet of her parlour, thought of her own natural blue-stocking tendencies, her dislike to mere material duties or mere intellectual routine, and she felt that God, in appointing her to this life of a

teacher, had sweetened the toil to her, and, in a sense, crowned it ere its accomplishment.

Maurice forgot the humiliation of his position in his sense of intellectual advancement. He felt as if wings were growing, he often said, and he was much more chary of his strictures upon girls as the friendship deepened between him and Mabel. And Mabel, with all her seeming pride, had such a genuine humility of spirit that she remained quite ignorant of the powers she possessed, and in her studies with Maurice she looked up to him with so much deference, accepting his occasional dry, cutting speeches submissively, as the words of the wise, that the boy had more reason to feel flattered by her companionship with him than lowered. Hetty's prophecy was verified, Mabel was more to Maurice than she was to her. It was hard, but it could not be helped.

The two girls never quarrelled. With the exception of that one rupture with Maurice, Mabel was never known to quarrel with anybody. No matter how high passion might run in the schoolroom, or anywhere else, she was collected. She sat calm on "tumult's wheel," and laughed at them all: enjoying everybody's wit even when directed against herself. She was very fond of Hetty, not less so for the oppositeness of Hetty's nature to her own; and as she gained influence over Maurice she

won him to a kinder regard for his sister, and gave him a deeper insight into her really good heart and fine character, so that Hetty had, after all, some reason to be obliged to her.

All the children were welcome visitors in Mrs. Dalgleish's parlour. All liked to pay their court to her there. She showed no partiality; she knew how to adapt herself to each one. Mabel might come and show her heart when the "spell of other days" was upon her, or when she wanted to exchange thoughts upon the poets who were her dream by day and by night. She might sit there silent, absorbed in art journals, essays and reviews, while Mrs. Dalgleish wrote her letters, or conned the Greek lines Maurice was to construe with her.

Maurice might fling himself cross-legged on the hearth-rug, and enjoy the same luxury, or, what he liked much better, a conversation on the jottings of the old philosophers. Hetty came to hear Mrs. Dalgleish play and sing, and to learn new stitches in fancy work. Totty brought her doll to be dressed, and Harry and Tom and Fanny,-fine children all of them, but ignominiously thrust into a corner because we are not allowing ourselves much space,took up their seats at Mrs. Dalgleish's table, expectant of a story or a game. Even Mrs. Wetherill was not