I LEFT Horton Lodge, and went to join my mother in our new abode atA-. I found her well in health, resigned in spirit, and evencheerful, though subdued and sober, in her general demeanour. Wehad only three boarders and half a dozen day-pupils to commencewith; but by due care and diligence we hoped ere long to increasethe number of both.

I set myself with befitting energy to discharge the duties of thisnew mode of life. I call it NEW, for there was, indeed, aconsiderable difference between working with my mother in a schoolof our own, and working as a hireling among strangers, despised andtrampled upon by old and young; and for the first few weeks I wasby no means unhappy. 'It is possible we may meet again,' and 'willit be of any consequence to you whether we do or not?' - Thosewords still rang in my ear and rested on my heart: they were mysecret solace and support. 'I shall see him again. - He will come;or he will write.' No promise, in fact, was too bright or tooextravagant for Hope to whisper in my ear. I did not believe halfof what she told me: I pretended to laugh at it all; but I was farmore credulous than I myself supposed; otherwise, why did my heartleap up when a knock was heard at the front door, and the maid, whoopened it, came to tell my mother a gentleman wished to see her?and why was I out of humour for the rest of the day, because itproved to be a music-master come to offer his services to ourschool? and what stopped my breath for a moment, when the postmanhaving brought a couple of letters, my mother said, 'Here, Agnes,this is for you,' and threw one of them to me? and what made thehot blood rush into my face when I saw it was directed in agentleman's hand? and why - oh! why did that cold, sickening senseof disappointment fall upon me, when I had torn open the cover andfound it was ONLY a letter from Mary, which, for some reason orother, her husband had directed for her?

Was it then come to this - that I should be DISAPPOINTED to receivea letter from my only sister: and because it was not written by acomparative stranger? Dear Mary! and she had written it so kindly- and thinking I should be so pleased to have it! - I was notworthy to read it! And I believe, in my indignation againstmyself, I should have put it aside till I had schooled myself intoa better frame of mind, and was become more deserving of the honourand privilege of its perusal: but there was my mother looking on,and wishful to know what news it contained; so I read it anddelivered it to her, and then went into the schoolroom to attend tothe pupils: but amidst the cares of copies and sums - in theintervals of correcting errors here, and reproving derelictions ofduty there, I was inwardly taking myself to task with far sternerseverity. 'What a fool you must be,' said my head to my heart, ormy sterner to my softer self; - 'how could you ever dream that hewould write to you? What grounds have you for such a hope - orthat he will see you, or give himself any trouble about you - oreven think of you again?' 'What grounds?' - and then Hope setbefore me that last, short interview, and repeated the words I hadso faithfully treasured in my memory. 'Well, and what was there inthat? - Who ever hung his hopes upon so frail a twig? What wasthere in those words that any common acquaintance might not say toanother? Of course, it was possible you might meet again: hemight have said so if you had been going to New Zealand; but thatdid not imply any INTENTION of seeing you - and then, as to thequestion that followed, anyone might ask that: and how did youanswer? - Merely with a stupid, commonplace reply, such as youwould have given to Master Murray, or anyone else you had been ontolerably civil terms with.' 'But, then,' persisted Hope, 'thetone and manner in which he spoke.' 'Oh, that is nonsense! healways speaks impressively; and at that moment there were theGreens and Miss Matilda Murray just before, and other peoplepassing by, and he was obliged to stand close beside you, and tospeak very low, unless he wished everybody to hear what he said,which - though it was nothing at all particular - of course, hewould rather not.' But then, above all, that emphatic, yet gentlepressure of the hand, which seemed to say, 'TRUST me;' and manyother things besides - too delightful, almost too flattering, to berepeated even to one's self. 'Egregious folly - too absurd torequire contradiction - mere inventions of the imagination, whichyou ought to be ashamed of. If you would but consider your ownunattractive exterior, your unamiable reserve, your foolishdiffidence - which must make you appear cold, dull, awkward, andperhaps ill-tempered too; - if you had but rightly considered thesefrom the beginning, you would never have harboured suchpresumptuous thoughts: and now that you have been so foolish, prayrepent and amend, and let us have no more of it!'

I cannot say that I implicitly obeyed my own injunctions: but suchreasoning as this became more and more effective as time wore on,and nothing was seen or heard of Mr. Weston; until, at last, I gaveup hoping, for even my heart acknowledged it was all in vain. Butstill, I would think of him: I would cherish his image in my mind;and treasure every word, look, and gesture that my memory couldretain; and brood over his excellences and his peculiarities, and,in fact, all I had seen, heard, or imagined respecting him.

'Agnes, this sea air and change of scene do you no good, I think:I never saw you look so wretched. It must be that you sit toomuch, and allow the cares of the schoolroom to worry you. You mustlearn to take things easy, and to be more active and cheerful; youmust take exercise whenever you can get it, and leave the mosttiresome duties to me: they will only serve to exercise mypatience, and, perhaps, try my temper a little.'

So said my mother, as we sat at work one morning during the Easterholidays. I assured her that my employments were not at alloppressive; that I was well; or, if there was anything amiss, itwould be gone as soon as the trying months of spring were over:when summer came I should be as strong and hearty as she could wishto see me: but inwardly her observation startled me. I knew mystrength was declining, my appetite had failed, and I was grownlistless and desponding; - and if, indeed, he could never care forme, and I could never see him more - if I was forbidden to ministerto his happiness - forbidden, for ever, to taste the joys of love,to bless, and to be blessed - then, life must be a burden, and ifmy heavenly Father would call me away, I should be glad to rest.But it would not do to die and leave my mother. Selfish, unworthydaughter, to forget her for a moment! Was not her happinesscommitted in a great measure to my charge? - and the welfare of ouryoung pupils too? Should I shrink from the work that God had setbefore me, because it was not fitted to my taste? Did not He knowbest what I should do, and where I ought to labour? - and should Ilong to quit His service before I had finished my task, and expectto enter into His rest without having laboured to earn it? 'No; byHis help I will arise and address myself diligently to my appointedduty. If happiness in this world is not for me, I will endeavourto promote the welfare of those around me, and my reward shall behereafter.' So said I in my heart; and from that hour I onlypermitted my thoughts to wander to Edward Weston - or at least todwell upon him now and then - as a treat for rare occasions: and,whether it was really the approach of summer or the effect of thesegood resolutions, or the lapse of time, or all together,tranquillity of mind was soon restored; and bodily health andvigour began likewise, slowly, but surely, to return.

Early in June, I received a letter from Lady Ashby, late MissMurray. She had written to me twice or thrice before, from thedifferent stages of her bridal tour, always in good spirits, andprofessing to be very happy. I wondered every time that she hadnot forgotten me, in the midst of so much gaiety and variety ofscene. At length, however, there was a pause; and it seemed shehad forgotten me, for upwards of seven months passed away and noletter. Of course, I did not break my heart about THAT, though Ioften wondered how she was getting on; and when this last epistleso unexpectedly arrived, I was glad enough to receive it. It wasdated from Ashby Park, where she was come to settle down at last,having previously divided her time between the continent and themetropolis. She made many apologies for having neglected me solong, assured me she had not forgotten me, and had often intendedto write, &c. &c., but had always been prevented by something. Sheacknowledged that she had been leading a very dissipated life, andI should think her very wicked and very thoughtless; but,notwithstanding that, she thought a great deal, and, among otherthings, that she should vastly like to see me. 'We have beenseveral days here already,' wrote she. 'We have not a singlefriend with us, and are likely to be very dull. You know I neverhad a fancy for living with my husband like two turtles in a nest,were he the most delightful creature that ever wore a coat; so dotake pity upon me and come. I suppose your Midsummer holidayscommence in June, the same as other people's; therefore you cannotplead want of time; and you must and shall come - in fact, I shalldie if you don't. I want you to visit me as a friend, and stay along time. There is nobody with me, as I told you before, but SirThomas and old Lady Ashby: but you needn't mind them - they'lltrouble us but little with their company. And you shall have aroom to yourself, whenever you like to retire to it, and plenty ofbooks to read when my company is not sufficiently amusing. Iforget whether you like babies; if you do, you may have thepleasure of seeing mine - the most charming child in the world, nodoubt; and all the more so, that I am not troubled with nursing it- I was determined I wouldn't be bothered with that.Unfortunately, it is a girl, and Sir Thomas has never forgiven me:but, however, if you will only come, I promise you shall be itsgoverness as soon as it can speak; and you shall bring it up in theway it should go, and make a better woman of it than its mamma.And you shall see my poodle, too: a splendid little charmerimported from Paris: and two fine Italian paintings of great value- I forget the artist. Doubtless you will be able to discoverprodigious beauties in them, which you must point out to me, as Ionly admire by hearsay; and many elegant curiosities besides, whichI purchased at Rome and elsewhere; and, finally, you shall see mynew home - the splendid house and grounds I used to covet sogreatly. Alas! how far the promise of anticipation exceeds thepleasure of possession! There's a fine sentiment! I assure you Iam become quite a grave old matron: pray come, if it be only towitness the wonderful change. Write by return of post, and tell mewhen your vacation commences, and say that you will come the dayafter, and stay till the day before it closes - in mercy to

'Yours affectionately,

'ROSALIE ASHBY.'

I showed this strange epistle to my mother, and consulted her onwhat I ought to do. She advised me to go; and I went - willingenough to see Lady Ashby, and her baby, too, and to do anything Icould to benefit her, by consolation or advice; for I imagined shemust be unhappy, or she would not have applied to me thus - butfeeling, as may readily be conceived, that, in accepting theinvitation, I made a great sacrifice for her, and did violence tomy feelings in many ways, instead of being delighted with thehonourable distinction of being entreated by the baronet's lady tovisit her as a friend. However, I determined my visit should beonly for a few days at most; and I will not deny that I derivedsome consolation from the idea that, as Ashby Park was not very farfrom Horton, I might possibly see Mr. Weston, or, at least, hearsomething about him.