able accurately to learn, nor whether he left any family; but I conclude not, from my never having heard of any.

"One thing I am well convinced of: that the sudden and total breaking off of his old connection, and banishment from England, was the best and only chance for poor Edward's changing his course, and becoming more what the son of such parents should have been. Fondly, too fondly, did we doat on him, and bitter, very bitter, were the tears we have shed over what, Í fear, was in some degree the consequence of that too much love. Often and often have I been thankful that my father lived not to see even the beginning of that sad history."

Mrs. Grey wiped the tears from her eyes, and then proceeded in a more composed voice.

"The shock of my brother's visit, though it did not at first appear to have hurt my poor mother so much as my husband, cost her, eventually, her life: she was seized with paralysis in the night, and though she partially recovered, and lingered on for some years, the effects of it at last caused her death; and during those years she was nearly helpless, and totally blind. But her patience and resignation under her affliction were beautiful to witness; her only anxiety being that my unfortunate brother should not hear of the misery he had caused, and her greatest grief that she could no longer see her grandchildren, or watch their growth.

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My husband was taken from me very shortly after this, and though his care had provided a small provision for me and our children, there was not enough to support the charge of their education, and at the same time provide all the necessaries and comforts my dear mother's situation demanded: so I went back to my school-keeping again, thankful that I had such a resource, and that my determined exertion in earlier days had formed me such a connection, as made the starting my second little establishment not nearly so

laborious or disheartening an undertaking as was the first.

"And now my history is nearly finished, dear Maude, and a long one it has been; yet many might tell such another, I believe, equal in trial, superior in point of Christian fortitude and submissive endurance. In a very few years I was left alone in the world with my youngest child, the son now at college. My little girl was taken from me, not very long after her father's death, and in due course my mother, too, was released from her part in the band of the Church on earth, and I and my little Edward were the sole survivors of the family group that had been so happy at Steinthorpe Parsonage.

"I now once more gave up my school, as I found it would answer my purpose better to go out into the world as I have continued doing since, than keeping up my house and servants when I had no one to care for but Edward, and he must necessarily spend most of his time at school.

"My darling project, and I trust I have not pursued it too eagerly, nor in such a spirit as would prevent my saying from my heart, GOD's will be done!' should He see fit to prevent its attainment, is and has ever been to give my boy such an education as should fit him to follow his father's steps, and tread in the same path through life with him and his grandfather. For this purpose I carefully husbanded our little yearly income and strove to increase it in a small degree, that I might give Edward a University education, especially since I found the natural turn of his mind was suited to my hopes, and that his wishes and desire pointed in the same direction with my own.

"GOD has been pleased to bless my endeavours hitherto, and, in another year, I trust to see my son ordained. You once noticed my rejoicing, Maude, at a letter I received from him,-that brought me news of his successful passing through the first examination. He spoke of it in such terms, and I fancied I could

trace so right a spirit and such proper views of the subject in every line, that my heart overflowed with thankfulness and I could not help taking that as an earnest my prayers would be granted and my hopes fulfilled in their full extent."

Mrs. Grey ceased speaking. Her usually calm countenance had been variously agitated by different and strong feelings during the progress of her history, and Maude (who judged how much this calling up of the past, and holding out to view scenes and people long past away, and over whose sorrowful memory time had cast her friendly veil, must have cost Mrs. Grey, and who well understood the purpose for which it had been done,) felt and looked grateful, and exerted herself to the utmost to retain the half-torpid, half-real composure which had succeeded the first vehemence of grief and its effects.

She was not able to speak upon the subject, or much on anything, that night, and only replied by her eyes to Mrs. Grey's affectionate words and solicitous attention to her comfort; but her mind was busy, and though now and then the old despairing grief would return in its full force, she was never so entirely prostrated as before, and Mrs. Grey's words were not utterly lost, nor the design with which she had detailed her own story quite frustrated. Maude was often recalled from dwelling on her own sorrow, to remember the trials her friend had undergone, and the admiration and love she felt for her increased in a tenfold degree, for she could well fill up that part of the history which the actor had left untold, and image her untiring perseverance in duty, gentle endurance and resigned submission to the will of Heaven, during a life whose successive passages had called for no ordinary exertion of all.

But still it was not for one true tale, one present example to counteract at once and entirely the effects of Maude's natural feelings and disposition imperfectly disciplined by an education which had not applied the

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sole effective remedy (in its proper force at least,) to such a mind as her's; and though her late strenuous endeavours at self-training under the new view of life both in its minutest parts and as a whole, which Mrs. Grey had given her, had already done much, yet the time had been but short-too short for her to receive with a calmer temper and in a more chastened spirit, the present heavy shock for which she was but ill prepared.

CHAPTER XIV.

MRS. GREY despatched a note to Fairford Lee, that night, and the next morning brought Beatrice, full of sympathy, and care and affection, but thanks to Mrs. Grey's precautions, full of discretion also.

Happily, as was noticed, Beatrice liked Mrs. Grey very much, and this with a certain half-awe, of which she could never entirely divest herself in regard to her "peculiar" though very dear younger sister, made her ready and willing to be guided by one whom Maude seemed to regard with such deference and affection, as it had become very evident to everybody she did Mrs. Grey.

So Beatrice did not allude to Courtenay, nor offer any commonplace consolations in regard to his conduct or death, but only looked full of sorrow, hoped her dear Maude would speedily recover, told her everything she could think of in the least interesting, according to her idea of what was so, and finally took leave, saying she should come every day till Maude was quite well, but that she felt full confidence with regard to the excellent hands she left her in. And well she might; for never was there a tenderer or more

judicious nurse either for mind or body. She never crowded her topics of consolation or precepts of duty and motives for exertion, one upon the other, or administered them when the patient was in too desponding or excited a frame for them to be listened to, but seized the right moment when the exhausted mind was itself longing for some anchor to rest upon, and left a sufficient time for one to be received and duly thought on before putting a new one before her. And Mrs. Grey was better enabled to do this, not only as she well comprehended Maude's character, but as from long endeavours to adapt her own conduct to the peculiar requirements of those she met in life, so as to benefit them most and manage her intercourse with them in the way best calculated to meet their feelings and temperament, she had acquired great knowledge of human nature generally, and much quick insight into that of particular individuals, so that she was thus enabled to understand Maude, and enter into her feelings much sooner and more accurately than even she could otherwise have done.

Maude's whole system, mind and body, had received so severe a shock, and the excess of passionate grief which she had at first given way to, had so affected her, that it was not for some weeks that she was able to

leave her bed or her room. The mind was certainly more at fault, the whole time, than the body, but the one preyed on the other, till both were affected, and her recovery was slow and often retarded. Her greatest consolations and the thing which did her most good, were her long conversations with Mrs. Grey, though many people would have doubted this, as each generally excited her much, and produced something of a struggle within. But as she mostly came off conqueror in the conflict, and her spirit came out from it more resigned and better fitted for its earthly task, so her mind made an equal step in regaining or rather acquiring new composure, and her body soon derived benefit from the more healthy tone