that all would yet be explained. Day after day, however, passed, and still the same silence respecting him. At last my mother began to feel uneasy at my continued depression, and questioned me on it. I could not, of course, tell her the reason, and merely replied that I had not felt very well of late, but that no doubt in a few days, with quietude and the sea air, I should fully recover. My mother, thinking I had probably overfatigued myself when in London, accepted the excuse, and we said no more on the subject.

Time, the great softener of all sorrows, at length began somewhat to dull the sharpness of mine. now daily strolled about with my little daughter and her nurse on the parade, or as a treat would take Adeline down to the harbour to watch the foreign steamboats arrive. My mother would occasionally accompany us, but afterwards, from taking a violent cold, she was confined to the house. During the time I generally remained with her, only leaving home when I had any commission to attend to in the town. Our lives passed very quietly, and we made

no acquaintances.

One morning, when speaking of the isolated state in which we lived, and our not having met any of our old friends, or formed new ones, my mother told me, laughing, that there was one exception-little Adeline.

"She has made an acquaintance," continued my mother, "and one who seems to admire her so much that if, Clara, you do not look sharp after your little daughter, you may some day lose her. She has, when out with her nurse, excited immense admiration in the breast of a gentleman, and the admiration seems to be reciprocated."

"Are you quite sure, mamma, that love is not being made to the nurse under cover to the child?" I said; "Sarah is a very pretty girl, and with the number of idle young men about here, such a deception might be very possible."

Shortly after this I left home to make a purchase in the High Street, telling my mother that on my return I should meet Adeline and the nurse on the beach, and go for a stroll with them up the Castle Hill. My purchase in the High Street was soon made, and I proceeded towards the harbour, when I saw in the passage leading to the spiral staircase to the barracks, two gentlemen, one an officer in uniform, the other, though in plain clothes, evidently a military man. Without knowing why, my heart throbbed when I saw him, for the moment my eyes fell on him I recognised the colonel in the Guards who had been my partner at the first ball at the French Ambassador's. I said my heart throbbed-but why it should have done so I know not, for I can conscientiously declare I had not cast a thought on him for years past. I do not know why I should have done so, but the moment I saw him I crossed over to the other side of the way, and

A short time afterwards, when seated with my mother in the drawing-room, the child came in, bringing with her some jujubes she had purchased as a present to her grandmamma. Of course they were received with great pleasure by my mother, who kissed the child affectionately for thinking of her. But warmly as my mother testified her affection, it did not satisfy little Adeline, and I was obliged to interfere to prevent a repayment she was insisting on-that my mother should give her a kiss for every jujube she had brought her. Having somewhat relieved my mother from these boisterous marks of Adeline's affection, she asked her how she had enjoyed her walk, and to give a description of all she had seen. This Adeline did, and concluded by saying, "Oh, grandmamma! who do you think we met just as we were turning round the corner of the parade to come home?"

"I cannot guess, my dear."

"Why, the same gentleman who used to speak to me when I first came here."

"And what did he say to you?"

"Oh! he asked me what my name was, and I told him Adeline de Vernieul; and then he asked me where I lived, and I told him at No. 4, on the Parade. He then shook hands with me, and I came home."

"I expect I am right in my suspicions," I said, in an undertone, to my mother. "What possible interest could he have in knowing where the child lived, or her name?"

"Well, my dear, you probably may be right, and I must say it looks more like it. We must, as I said before, keep a sharp look out, and speak to Sarah if we notice any encouragement on her part."

In the afternoon, when Adeline was ready dressed to take her walk, she was standing at the window waiting for Sarah, when she suddenly exclaimed, clapping her hands, "There he is! I see him!" and she began nodding with great earnestness to some person she saw.

Curiosity impelled me to go to the window to see who it was, but I had hardly reached it when I turned suddenly away. Adeline's new acquaintance was none other than Colonel Morpeth.

Although I so suddenly quitted the window, I felt

quite sure that he had seen me. This gave me great annoyance, more so then I can easily express, and yet why I cannot even now explain to myself. For some days after I did not leave the house, nor did I at that time of day when people mostly frequented the parade approach the window near enough to be seen. At length the uneasy feeling subsided, and I ventured out. Impunity creates courage, whether false or real, and I had now lost all dread of meeting the colonel. But one day when walking with Adeline he came up to us, and spoke to the child; then looking earnestly at me he said, “I am sure I have had the pleasure of meeting you before."

I endeavoured to stammer out that I did not remember him, but I felt I was doing it very artificially, and that he saw through me, and this made me more confused than ever.

"I am sure I cannot be mistaken," he said; "I met you twice at the French Ambassador's, and on the former occasion I remember perfectly well you were my first partner. Your name, I think, is Miss Levesque?"

I now felt more uncomfortable than before, and the feeling was increased by Adeline, saying, "No, my mamma's name is Madame de Vernieul. It's grandmamma who is called Mrs. Levesque."

"I did not know you were married," he said, and it struck me there was something like disappointment in his tone; "I hope M. de Vernieul is well." What was I to say? I not only felt confused, but also convinced that Colonel Morpeth noticed it. I had but one alternative, and that was to leave him, so wishing him good morning, I drew Adeline away, and returned home.

My troubles were not yet ended. As soon as we were together in the drawing-room, Adeline said, “Oh, grandmamma! we met that same gentleman again to-day."

You do not mean the gentleman who has spoken to you so often, do you?" said my mother, rather coolly.

"Yes, grandmamma, and mamma knows him too, and he knew her long before I was born, and called her Miss Levesque."

"Who is he, Clara ?" said my mother in a tone of surprise.

"It must have been Colonel Morpeth, the son of Sir Thomas Morpeth, whom we met twice at the Ambassador's house," said I, in a curious state of trepidation, adding, "you surely must remember him; his mother was the lady who had the splendid suit of diamonds."

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mine from the fact that he showed you more attention than he did me," I said, making a somewhat abortive attempt at a laugh.

"Nonsense, Clara," said my mother; then sinking back into her chair she remained for some time silent.

I was grateful to her for her silence, especially as I fully understood the current of her thoughts. She was bitterly regretting that of my two admirers he had not been' the one who was to be my husbandas if he would have had me even if De Vernieul had not proposed to me!

After remaining for some time silent, my mother gave me another of her penetrating glances, and then said, “Clara, did he ask you anything about De Vernieul ?"

"He began to speak on the subject, but. I made some excuse, a clumsy one, I fear, and hurried home." "I think when you go out again, dear, I will try and go with you, in case you should meet him again; you could then introduce him to me, for I dare say he has quite forgotten me, notwithstanding the attention you say he paid me."

"What can you mean, mamma ?" I said; "he is the last person whose acquaintance I should wish to keep up."

"I do not propose you should keep it up, my dear. But if I meet him afterwards, I might have an opportunity of explaining to him what has taken place."

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'Why, mamma, should you do anything of the kind?" I said, almost angrily, and feeling the tears coming into my eyes. "Do you not think the sorrows I have endured and my punishment are not ample without making them known to a man who is a total stranger? Let me implore of you not to speak to him about it."

"I am sorry, Clara, to refuse you anything, but I must not promise you this. Remember you have the welfare and respectability of your child to keep in mind, and unless people know the whole circumstances they may be likely to form a very incorrect opinion of you both. No, my dear, I shall certainly speak to the colonel if I meet him, and I am sure with a little reflection you will admit I have acted wisely."

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

riage being brought to the knowledge of any onethat man above all others. And why? I endeavoured to answer the question, but found it impossible. The fact existed, however, and the more I thought over the matter, the more repugnant did it appear to me, till at last I resolved that at any rate I would get my mother to postpone her intention for the moment, and in the meantime I would avoid all opportunity of meeting the colonel.

The next morning, when sitting alone with my mother, I broached the subject to her, and in as politic a manner as possible. I told her that, on reflection, I could not dispute the justice of her argument, but at the same time the explanation she proposed giving to the colonel was to me so exquisitely painful, that I hoped she would either relinquish the idea, or postpone carrying it out for the present, at any rate till I had nerved up my courage in a better manner than I could then do. My mother attempted to maintain her position, but I implored her so earnestly, that at last she gave way, though with the full understanding that she should use her own judgment in the matter, if she considered circumstances justified her in doing so.

And here again I had cause to repent differing from my mother in opinion. Her head was not only wiser, but a great deal clearer than mine. For some time I resolutely kept to my determination of avoiding all opportunity of meeting the colonel, but I will not deny that although I placed myself at the window in such a position that I could not be seen, I occasionally saw him on the parade. Did I wish to meet him, or imagine that he wished to see me? Certainly not. I can declare, that to my full knowledge and belief, curiosity alone impelled me to watch for him, at any rate I conscientiously thought so. He met Adeline frequently, and always asked after me. My mother had now adopted a different policy with the child, and instead of joking with her on the acquaintance she had made, she used, whenever Adeline spoke of the colonel, abruptly to change the subject. She moreover told Sarah to avoid meeting him as much as possible, or if he spoke to the child to form some excuse for drawing her away. Sarah seemed somewhat surprised, and even sulky, as if she imagined my mother was actuated by some feeling concerning her. However, she made no remark, and for some days we heard nothing of the colonel.

All went on smoothly for more than a week, when Adeline complained to me one day that Sarah had been very unkind to her. She had met the colonel, she said, and he had proposed taking her into a confectioner's shop and giving her some cakes, but that Sarah would not allow her, and had insisted on her coming home, saying her mamma wanted to speak to her. The child then asked me if Sarah had not told a story, and whether it was not very wicked of her.

This was certainly a very puzzling question to

answer, but I did so with the best sophistry I could summon up at the moment. I told her that Sarah was quite right, that I wanted her at home. And then again came the proof that one falsehood is generally the father of another, for Adeline asked me what I wanted her for. I was obliged to find some reply, and so on till at last I was driven to invent a final excuse for sending her from the room.

Another week passed, and Adeline never mentioned having met the colonel. My curiosity was, I admit, greatly excited on the subject, and I felt strongly inclined to question either the child or Sarah. Prudence, however, withheld me. I must also acknowledge that I felt disposed to watch for him on the parade, but the thought had hardly been formed before womanly pride taught me how unwomanly an act of the kind, under all circumstances, would be, and I abstained. The colonel's name was now never mentioned, and we all seemed as if by common consent to avoid speaking of him. I soon began to take short walks in the vicinity of the house, or on shopping expeditions in the town, watching warily for his appearance; that I might contrive to avoid him before he saw me. As we never met, I assumed (what proved to be the fact) that he had left Dover, and I must confess that, greatly as I admired him, I felt considerably relieved by his absence.

Some weeks now passed over without anything occurring to disturb the quiet current of our lives. We met with no one of the few acquaintances we had, nor did my mother or myself form new ones. With Adeline it was different, for she had made many friends, though all now were children of her own age. With one in particular she had struck up a great intimacy, and had requested me to allow her to invite the child to our house. We had already made inquiries as to the reputation of the Martin family, and found that they were people of high respectability. Mrs. Martin was the wife of a major in the regiment quartered in the barracks on the cliff, but who had taken a house not far from us on the parade. I granted my child's request, and sent an invitation to little Mary Martin to spend an afternoon with Adeline, and on the day named she arrived, accompanied by her mother, who had taken the opportunity of calling to make our acquaintance. Mrs. Martin appeared a nice, amiable, unaffected woman, and like myself had but one child, little Mary.

While the children were playing together, my mother and myself carried on a somewhat lively conversation with our new visitor. We avoided as much as possible touching on subjects connected with the officers quartered at Dover, though we listened with considerable attention to Mrs. Martin's remarks upon them. She told us that several were married, but they visited principally among themselves, forming a very agreeable little ceterie. She then spoke of several by name, mentioning their