"Eh, Arthur?" added Herbert cheerfully, but the next moment he was surprised by Arthur's saying:

"It's all very well talking, but I can't do it, I can't persuade her," he cried, with passionate earnestness, and then half ashamed he turned away. "It may be very wrong, I believe it is very selfish, but I could as soon cut off my right hand as urge Maud to do a thing which I know would be so repugnant to her feelings, and to mine too

He stopped abruptly, recalled to a consciousness of what he was saying by the black look of disappointment on Herbert's face.

"I know it is very considerate and kind of you," began he afresh; "it is not every man who would give up the best part of his furlough for the sake of a sister whom he has hardly seen since he was a child," and he wrung his brother's hand warmly; "but if I could express to you what Maud has been to me, how I have depended on her for sympathy, talked with her of the future in days when things were so very different."

Herbert Bingley might be deficient in tact, and wanting in judgment, but he was anything but lacking in feeling. He was not one of those people

who see in a moment what others are suffering, but

when it did become apparent, he was all sympathy directly.

66

"Don't mind what I say, Arthur," began he, “ I can't conceive what made me press the point so strongly, but there's time enough before us yet. A thousand chances may turn up between this and the end of the year."

"It may be so," said Arthur, who had now recovered his composure. But I think we ought to

66

look the matter in the face. Only," added he sadly, "I can't urge it on Maud; I will lay the case before her."

"If you think she won't like it, it would be better not to make a formal business of it, perhaps," said Herbert. "Let the idea come upon her gradually, or creep out in the common course of conversation. It would be the most natural thing in the world when we are all talking together."

"Not to-day," said Arthur hastily, who had no very great reliance on the discretion of his brother.

CHAPTER III.

"Those weary hours of widowhood,
How heavily they go!"-A.

HE next day, and the next, came and went, with many others in their train, but Maud was in no condition to be talked to, or to talk. At first she was supposed to be suffering from a cold, which old Bridget, who was a great authority in such matters, was positive had been caught on the day of her mother's funeral.

"Miss Bingley hadn't left the house for weeks, and she must needs go out with the east wind blowing, and when I told her it was more fitting she should be at home."

Then it was allowed to be influenza, and finally it became apparent that, be the form what it might in which her illness had first showed itself, it arose from something very different from an ordinary

chill, for the poor girl could neither leave her bed nor raise her head, and almost before she began to complain her strength was utterly prostrate. In truth, only the name was lacking to make it a long, low fever.

Arthur's anxiety knew no bounds; day after day, hour after hour, were passed by him, in silent, watchful anticipation, beside his sister's sick-bed. Maud did not appear to suffer, but the active principle of life seemed to have died within her, and with it had departed every trace of the energy, activity, and forethought, which had ever formed the integral parts of her character. For weeks and weeks she never asked a question or hazarded a remark, she had not strength even for an unnecessary word; but she would lie and look at Arthur with such sad, wistful eyes, and smile her thanks for any little service with such a piteous sweetness, that the thought would sometimes force itself upon him whether it were not vain to weary himself concerning a future which might never dawn for her on earth. Once, and once only, he hinted his fears to old Bridget.

"Whatever put that in your head, Mr. Arthur?" was the answer he got.

think of such a thing?"

"How came you ever to repeated she angrily.

"I hardly know when it first struck me," was the sorrowful response, "but if you remember, Bridget, it is four weeks to-day since my sister left her room."

"And four months ago and more, how was it with her?" asked the old woman quickly. "Up of nights, striving and driving all day to make things pleasant and comfortable," continued she, in answer to her own query. "If you mind it rightly, Mr. Arthur, I told you how it would be when Fowler and the other servants went away, and Miss Bingley undertook the entire nursing of her mamma."

Arthur sighed.

"Now don't go and fret about it, Mr. Arthur," resumed his old nurse, softening in a minute," it was always your way from a child, to dwell on things, and take them to heart; now you'll see if I'm not right, Miss Bingley will get stronger after a time, and depend on it, it's a better thing for her to be lying here and taking her rest like, than to be up and worrying about things which can't be helped."

66

Perhaps it is;" but still Arthur did not look satisfied.

"I mayn't perhaps put it rightly," resumed old Bridget; "I never was much of a scholar in my