"It would be a great pleasure to feel that I was useful to you," continued Claude, fixing his "It is so eyes earnestly upon her. long since I have been able to be of use to any one."

Few could resist the influence of his persuasive eyes and voice: as his eyes rested on her face, and his tones fell on her ear, Miss Grant felt herself subdued.

"Take the book, Claude Hastings; you have already got it, I see. Show Mr. Hastings the place, child; he will read to me a few pages-retire to the window."

Claude read a few words, then paused.

"As you allow me to read to you, why

should not Miss Williams take a walk? She has not been out, I think, since I came here."

Enough, enough, Claude Hastings!— Letitia Williams is not accustomed to go out she does not wish it."

"She does not wish it, because she has felt that you could not spare her; but you will let me read for half an hour, will you not?—and, as you can spare her while I

read, I am sure she would like it this fine day. It will do her good too, she looks too pale."

"You speak foolishly, Claude Hastings; you put strange ideas into the girl's head. But come here, child?" she said, after a pause. "Let me look at you?"

She did not look pale as she stood trembling and blushing before her mistress.

"Do you wish to go out, child?-answer me!" in rather a harsh voice.

"You must not ask her," said Claude, kindly, as he saw truth and terror contending in the girl's mind. "She wishes whatever you wish; but, as you can spare her to-day, I am sure you would like her to take a walk, and try to get a little colour into those white cheeks."

"You speak foolishly, Claude Hastings: the youth of this day are too much indulged, but perhaps you are so far right, health is not to be trifled with. Go, Letitia; put on your bonnet and shawl-your straw bonnet, child-no finery-walk quickly round the grounds, and be in this room again in three

quarters of an hour. Go, child, go-no thanks it is for your health. Now proceed, Claude Hastings."

He read, and the melodious tones of his voice were not lost on his aunt's ear. For a time her eyes rested upon him with rapt attention, then they were averted, then, to his surprised and wondering gaze, he saw tears stealing slowly but surely down her wasted cheeks.

Some slumbering memories had awakened as he read, and she had neither the power nor the inclination to subdue them.

CHAPTER XII.

-To one who ever felt the sting
Of sorrow-sorrow is a sacred thing.

COWPER.

Oh! many a shaft at random sent
Finds mark the archer never meant;
And many a word at random spoken
May soothe or wound a heart that's broken.
W. SCOTT.

One fine morning, a week after the conversation last recorded, Claude Hastings joined his cousin in the garden. His arm was in a sling, and his cheek was paler even than was usual to him, but it was more from the effects of confinement than from illness.

Henry Bruce was leaning on a gate, whistling, dreaming, perhaps planning.

"Can you walk with me to Oakley, Harry?" said Claude, as he approached him. "Mr. James has just released me from my

bondage, and I think the first use I make of my freedom should be to thank the Miss Woodviles for their kindness to me. Will you come?"

"Yes, I should like it very much; but it is rather early, only just one o'clock."

"If I don't go now, I can't go till five; and I thought we should be more likely to find them at home in the morning."

“Oh! you must be back for the reading. Well, let us go; it does not matter, I dare say."

They set off together.

"You are a very strange fellow, Claude," said Henry, as they walked along; "I begin to think there is something not quite right about you.'

Claude looked up with an inquiring smile.

66

Why you must not suppose that the idea of what you have been doing never came into my head? No; I am very thoughtless, I know, very little given to think much on serious subjects; but I could not see this old woman actually falling into the grave, with her head full of worldliness