that everything threatened the overthrow of her plans, Lady Clairville experienced as much misery as if actual misfortune had reached her. For success she would have forfeited every other hope and privilege; not thinking that the time must come, whether prefaced by triumph or disappointment, when all earthly things will be as bitterness and wormwood which have driven our minds from that heaven, where pride, contentions, and deceit can never enter. : CHAPTER III. "I do not love thee!-yet thy speaking eyes, With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue- "How can I ever repay you, dearest Lady Florence, for all this tender care ?" said Julian Sinclair, in a low subdued tone of voice, to his lovely nurse, who had just arranged the pillows beneath his head, as he lay pale and attenuated on a couch. "I find it even difficult to express to you all the grateful affection which your kind solicitude awakens in my heart," he added, endeavouring to kiss the fairy hand which rested on his couch. "After all, words give very little expression to feelings." "Hush! hush! babbler; do you forget that silence is so peremptorily ordered by your doctors," Lady Florence replied, playfully placing her hand upon his lips. "If you rebel, I will leave you to the care of Eugenie; and you must then talk of blond laces, or of silk brocades, if you wish to be listened to. But do, dear Julian, be tranquil; you look so well today. I wish Lady Clairville to see you as free from fever and suffering as you are now. She will be here in half an hour, and you know how little upsets you." Julian certainly did look well. Though his hair had been all removed, the black velvet cap he wore rather added to than injured the beautiful contour of his face and well-formed features, while the pallid hue of his complexion made his appearance strikingly interesting. Lady Florence, whose eyes had been long fixed upon him with tender and admiring love, as she sat on a low ottoman by his side, now resumed her embroidery frame, and frowning with all the power of her fair open brow at any further attempts at conversation made by the invalid, she was soon apparently intent on the violet, her snowy fingers were tracing. She looked also pale; but it arose from constant watchings, combined with the fever of excitement burning within her bosom. Her every hour had been busied in the task of tending the invalid, while her whole heart was wrapped up in the anxiety and delight of an occupation, which placed her, as it were, in the tenderest affinity with one upon whom she so madly doted. Julian's accident had been one of a most frightful nature. The concussion on the brain was violent, and many a long day of suffering had he passed. During this period none of his friends had access to his couch, except Lady Florence and his mother. In vain had poor Blanche pleaded for admission, urging her anx iety and sisterly affection. Lady Florence had remonstrated most seriously with Lady Clairville, on the further excitement the meeting: might give to his nervous system, and she left her son without apprehension to the sole society of one, from whom nothing but distruction could ensue. To Lady Florence this time of danger and distress had its charms, though at times her soul sickened with her fears of its result, and the slight hopes at first given of Julian's recovery. She was naturally affectionate, and had a heart beating with warm and tender feelings. These, up to the present time, had only been called forth by her beautiful boys. But though she idolized them with all a mother's devotion, the world and its vanities had ever offered a powerful and preponderating interest. Now, she who had hitherto felt no pleasure but in glare and gaiety, would sit whole hours in the darkened room, with no |