is of opinion that the house of our own mother's sister- -as it is open to us now-is the most fitting place of asylum for her orphan daughter; at all events for the present."

"Herbert does not know

began Maud tremulously, but she could not command her voice.

Her brother did not seem to notice this interruption, but she knew by the unusual rapidity of his speech that his feelings were deeply moved.

"I need not remind you that having lived for some years, of your life under the same roof with

Mrs. Murray," continued he," that it seems only natural you should take up your abode with her again."

"I do not wish to appear either obstinate or ungrateful," said Maud, "but I cannot easily reconcile myself to the thought of a life of such utter dependence and isolation as I know mine would be if I accepted Aunt Sophia's offer, and went to live at Bankside."

"What I should like best," said Arthur," would be, if we could manage to live together, but I am afraid for the present it is quite out of the question." Maud's face brightened at the bare idea, but still her brother sighed.

"At some future day we may, perhaps, carry

out this plan," he continued, "but you must not build on it too much, Maud. We should be together; but we should have to live very economieally in a little lodging; I could not take you into barracks."

"I had rather face poverty with you than Bankside by myself, with all its luxuries," said his sister eagerly.

Arthur shook his head.

"I tell you plainly, Maud, it is a harder thing to rub on with a small income than you imagine, for I have had the experience of the last year, and I have found it a very difficult matter indeed to manage on my pay, even in the Artillery, and with every motive a fellow could have to keep him straight."

Her countenance fell, but before she could speak, Arthur went on :

"Don't think I mean to complain," he said very quickly; "I am fortunate in being in this particular branch of the service, and I can pull through; still, in the army, as at present constituted, so many and such heavy expenses fall on every officer that, will he nill he,' almost his whole income is swallowed up before the turn of his own expenses comes."

"Dear Arthur!" and the sister pressed the hand she held more fondly, "I was afraid it must be it would be better

so, and, perhaps,

should only be a burden to you."

I

She was going

to yield about Bankside, but words failed her. She would have been glad to unsay what now seemed to her but selfish objections, but for once in his life Arthur would not let her speak.

"I know that," said he, interrupting her. "Listen to me, Maud," he began hurriedly; "just now I am in a worse plight than ever, I have been transferred into another battalion."

She did not speak, but the little colour which their conversation had brought into her cheeks disappeared, leaving her even paler than before.

"And what is worse still, it has come to my turn to go on foreign service," persisted he, in a voice he would fain make firm.

"Where?" her lips, not her voice framed the inquiry.

"To the West Indies."

He got up and paced to and fro the narrow room. A silence of some minutes ensued; no tears, no lamentations, no sigh, no sound, save his quick footsteps, disturbed the stillness. At last he came round to the back of her chair, so that she could not read his looks.

"Maud, you must help me to bear it-if it had been at any other time-but to leave you just now."

She put up her face to be kissed, she clasped her arms round his neck. "And for three long

years ?"

She

Voices were heard in the quiet street. Herbert and Edgeworth were returning, and Maud flew out of the room, and was upstairs in a moment. flung herself on her knees beside the couch where her mother breathed her last. "Oh! Mamma, Mamma. Oh! Arthur, Arthur!"

It was the only expression of her grief.

CHAPTER V.

""Tis past, new prospects rise."

Night Thoughts.

"And now I set thee down to try

How thou canst walk alone."

Lyra Innocentium.

HE Mayday sun was shining brightly into a room where two individuals, albeit they were of a different sex,

sat in unbroken silence. It was a

long, low, but luxuriously furnished apartment, pannelled with oak, and hung with rich crimson draperies, and the lady, who sat studying her letters behind the urn, was decked in costly array.

A little cap of Brussels point, enlivened by violet ribbons, a rich black silk dress, stiff with embroidery and bugles, and a profusion of black lace, were the adornments of one who, though no longer either young or handsome, could not be content to resign