ly Guardian who "slumbers not," be with us all till we meet again. Miss Gertrude, may I ask you to convey a message to your brother from me. (He speaks to her in a low voice, then enters the wood.)

Mrs. ABER. A secret, Gertrude?

GER. (Smiling.) It is for my brother's ears only.

ANNA. What a heavenly-minded man! Oh! how I long for the Sabbath, that I may hear him speak of heavenly things.

Mrs. ABER. He is indeed very pleasing, and has something holy in his manners. But now let us join your brother and Charles. Here comes Edward alone.

Enter EDWARD.

GER. Where is Charles? What is the matter? You look discomposed. Has any thing happened? (anxiously.)

EDW. No. But who do you think has arrived with Charles?

Mrs. ABER. Who?

EDW. Mr. Lornton.

Mrs. ABER. GER. and ANNA. Mr. Lornton !
EDW. Yes, himself.

ANNA. How vexatious! What on earth has brought him?

EDW. I cannot tell, but Charles and he met

at the last stage, and as horses were not to be had for both carriages, they came together.

Mrs. ABER. Well, I certainly wish he had not come at present-but now, my dear children, remember you have to prove the sincerity and power of your religion. You know Mr. Lornton has always, at least, intended to be kind to you all; and I intreat you, do what you can to make his stay here agreeable to him. Some idea of duty to you has led him to take this long and fatiguing journey. You, Gertrude, I can depend upon. You have always loved your guardian.

GER. I really do love him, and think he has a great deal of feeling behind his cold stiff man

ners.

EDW. You love him, Gertrude, because you have never displeased him, and do not know the severity and contempt with which he finds fault.

GER. I have displeased him of late, Edward, and he has, in private, said many very severe things to me; yet he listened patiently to all I said in my defence, and seemed more vexed than angry, and anxious to understand and enter into my reasons for doing what appeared to him selfwilled and absurd.

ANNA. He has always had a favour for you; but Oh! those private conferences. How often I have wished he would give his lectures in

public. How tremendous he looks when he says, "Miss Anna, I desire a few minutes' conversation with you."

EDW. I cannot say I love him, but I do respect him. But now we must really go to him.

GER. I have a message from Mr. Ross to you, Edward.

EDW. What?

GER. He hopes you will continue to act as the Christian head of your house, though its inmates have increased in number.

EDW. And Mr. Lornton there. (embarrassed.) My friend did not know he was come.

GER. He said, that drawing back after you had once begun, would have a bad effect on your servants and people-besides, (in a whisper) will you seem ashamed of your Master?

EDW. (with warmth.) No, were the whole world here.

FORENOON.

An Apartment in Arnavoir Castle, the windows of which open on the lawn.

Mr. LORNTON, GERTRUDE.

(A great many people are seen from the windows. Mr. Ross and Edward appear to be addressing them. Mr. Lornton paces up and down the room, Gertrude watching his looks, and at times stealing a glance towards the window.)

Mr. LORN. I cannot believe, child, that it is really agreeable to you to remain here with me, when so much preaching over coarse Bibles, and twopenny tracts, is going on yonder.

GER. Were you with us, Sir, I should prefer being on the lawn.

Mr. LORN. I with you! Can you suppose I would countenance such preposterous folly? I used to think that, with all his faults, your

brother had a good share of common sense, but I begin to doubt this. Can he really be such a fool as to believe that sagacious, reflecting Scotchmen will be duped by him and his parson, into the notion that canting speeches are as much worth having as good cheer; or that the sanctimonious looks of a young landlord promise as well for their future interests, as if he showed himself the open-hearted, open-handed gentleman?

GER. I hope, Sir, that the people will love my brother such as he is. Will you pardon me for saying, Sir, that you yourself did not seem displeased with him last night, when he assembled his servants, and read and prayed with them. You did not, indeed, remain with us, but afterwards you treated Edward so kindly, and took leave of him for the night so like a father, that he was quite moved.

(Mr. Lornton makes no answer, but turning his face away, again paces about the room for a time, then stops and fixes his eyes earnestly on a portrait which hangs at one end of the apartment—again walks a few steps, then stops, and looks mildly at Gertrude.)

Mr. LORN. You know that picture, Gertrude? GER. Yes; it is my father's. I have spent much of this morning in contemplating it. I