him; and at every unusual noise her heart sank with terror-" They're bringing in William!" She could neither eat, nor sleep, nor work; her mother scolded her, and said she was a fool; and her father desired her to leave Peggy alone, for that "some women were so, and they couldn't help themselves." The men laughed at her, because they thought a woman fretting after her sweetheart was a legitimate subject for ridicule; and the women blamed her, wondering she had so little spirit as to care for a man that had shewn he despised her. But in spite of all they could say, Peggy loved and wept on, till one day, after she had been consuming her poor heart in this way for upwards of a week, the regiment received their route: they were to proceed immediately to the coast, preparatory to their embarking for the Peninsula.

The morning after this news arrived, Peggy was standing at the door, thinking on the one subject that always occupied her, when Serjeant Lawson came out of his quarter, sucking his fingers; and when he stopped to speak to her, she observed that they were stained with ink. "He has been writing to Mrs. Lawson," thought she, "to tell her about the route

we've got. I wish I could see the direction of the letter. I wonder if he has left it at home, or whether he has it in his pocket!" Presently Lawson walked on, and as the door of his quarter stood very invitingly open, Peggy thought there could be no very great harm in taking a peep; so, as soon as he was out of sight, she ran across. There lay two letters on the table, sure enough, folded and directed, but not sealed-the serjeant was gone in search of some wafers-and one of them was to Mrs. Lawson. Peggy read the address eagerly, and impressed it upon her mind by repeating it several times-" Eastlake, by York,”—and then she retreated, and was at her own door again before the serjeant returned. The first opportunity she had she wrote it down, and committed the paper to her bosom; and being satisfied on this point, she sat down to work with all her might and main. Her needle flew as if her life depended on finishing her task by a certain period. She wasted no

time in looking out of the window for William, nor in standing at the door to listen for news of him; she scarcely allowed herself leisure for her meals, or for her needful rest. Her

mother commended her, and said she was glad to see she had got "over that nonsense;" and her father said "that was all very well, but there was moderation in everything; perhaps, however, her work might be good for her now, and drive other things from her mind, so it was best to let her have her own way."

So she slaved on; and she was still hard at work when the order came for the regiment to march. Her father was to go with the first division; she and her mother with the baggage the day after. Peggy sat up all night to work; in the morning her father marched off. She kissed him and bade him "6 goodby," and he bade her be "a good girl, and keep a good heart-men were not worth fretting about." In the course of that morning, Peggy finished her job, and then she took it home to the lady who had employed her. As she went through the barracks to the officers' quarter, she met a gay young ensign, who seized her as she passed, and snatched a kiss. Peggy slapped his face with a smartness that made it tingle, and then she proceeded on her way to the lady she was in search of, and delivered her work.

"I was going to send for it back, and give it to somebody else, Peggy," said the lady. "I thought you did not mean to do it."

"I have been very long about it, indeed, ma'am," said Peggy; "but I have worked hard this last week to get it finished, because we wanted the money for the route."

This was a hint not to be misunderstood, so the lady settled Peggy's little account, and dismissed her.

The next morning, with the earliest dawn of light, Mrs. Bland heard Peggy stirring, and asked her what she was doing. Peggy said she had a great deal to do, and begged her mother not to mind her; so after a little grumbling, Mrs. Bland turned round and went to sleep again. When she arose herself, some time afterwards, Peggy was missing; however, she was too busy to go and look after her, but the hours passed, and the wagon was ready to start, and Mrs. Bland's household gods were all comfortably reposing in it, and still Peggy was absent. Mrs. Bland was very angry, and she called her step-daughter an idle, thoughtless, good-for-nothing young minx; but she did not choose to lose sight of her furniture, or to abandon the chance of

getting a comfortable quarter by staying behind, "the serjeant expecting her too," so she begged a friend to take care of Peggy, first to scold her well, and then bring her along in the next wagon, which the friend promised to do. But Peggy did not return, and the next wagon and the next departed without her, till at length the whole regiment had moved off, and still nothing had been heard of Peggy. There were various opinions as to what had become of her, but the prevailing one was, that she had gone after William, though, as to her finding him, that seemed to the last degree improbable; especially when, two days after her disappearance, the news arrived from Eastlake that he was suspected of being either a principal or an accessory in the murder of the baronet. The letters stated that he was known to have been on the spot at the time the crime was committed, dressed in plain clothes, and wearing a fur cap, and that active inquiries were making for the purpose of ascertaining what course he had afterwards pursued.

All the regiment, officers and men, were grieved at this intelligence; and so good was William's character that many refused to be