journey was nearly over, and they were actually in England, the truth forced itself upon him, a few hours more and he should see Constance: was he better prepared for that meeting?-had he taught his heart to still its yearnings-its hopeless love? He thought he returned as weak as he had gone forth; he considered not that strength is not our own, and that to every effort, faint and feeble in itself, it may be, is given a tenfold might by Him who recompenses not actions by their results, but by their intention, and who needs not success as a proof of toil.

He had some mournful, painful thoughts as he lay on his sick-bed; and the enfeebled state of his mental powers had made him feel, as he lay there in stillness and helplessness, as if he were again a child, and as if that intellect, in whose deep reasonings and soaring imaginings he had felt at times such exulting joy-on which he thought to rest his soul and stay its yearnings after happiness, was vanishing from him: and then from the depths of the soul the solemn thought uprose, "Where shall the immortal rest, save on Immortality ?"

CHAPTER III.

"A goodly dream;

But thou art right to think it was no more,

And study to forget it."

TALFOURD.

YONSTANCE is thinking, too, this evening, as she leans back in an easy-chair in her favourite sittingroom, by the fire-side, watching the fleecy clouds that chase each other over the moon's fair, calm face; but ber thoughts are not of the moon nor of the clouds. Can we tell of what they are when she hardly knows herself, and is almost unconscious what causes those half-smiles to flit across her face?

She had felt a strange sensation of pleasure all day, ever since her early visit to the Rectory, where she went, as usual, after breakfast, to hear the daily bulletin of the travellers, and had this morning, in addition to the happy intelligence of their safe arrival at Calais, been told by Aunt Mabel, "Your uncle says that Mr. Clifford has promised to home, and spend a few days here."

accompany them

She warbled some very lively airs on her way home across the park, indulged Woolly by throwing a stick for him to catch, and indeed had a little run with him herself, and then, instead of going home, turned towards the south lodge, and took the path that led to the seat on the hill-side, and there, in spite of the

November morning, sat down and indulged in a little dreaming.

Constance had now been introduced about a year and a half; in that time she had met with as much attention as must naturally fall to the share of any young heiress, very pretty, and decidedly what is styled fascinating. But all this attention had been received passively, and had left no impression; and the remembrance of all her numerous "devoted admirers" would not have had the power to stir up the thoughts that the mention of Mr. Clifford's name aroused. The interviews with him had not been forgotten; he had spoken to an inner being that no one else had addressed, and had aroused thoughts that she was hardly conscious of possessing till the joy at meeting a kindred spirit made her feel they were not new, though none hitherto had called them forth from their hidden cells; and he had given life and vesture to ideas that seemed so visionary and spectre-like, she had hardly hoped to grasp them as they floated through the brain: his mind seemed to have the secret key that would unlock hers. And now she should see him again, and hear him talk, and she wondered whether she should find him all that she had fancied him to be. And again she smiled, and felt so merry and light-hearted that old Stephen, who was sunning himself at the cottage-door, murmured, as he watched her running down the hill," Well, she looks as if nought but sunshine had ever passed over her heart."

She stopped to speak to him, and to tell the good news, "that the Rector and Mr. Eustace would come home to-morrow."

"God bless him, poor young gentleman!" was the old man's answer: "and mighty proud and pleased he'll be to see you, Miss. He looked quite lost now when he was here without you, and used to wander up to the old seat yonder, as I've seen him and you do a sight of times. It will look very nat❜ral like to see you two together: I've watched you since you both could walk, playing about hand in hand.”

"I am afraid he will not be strong enough to walk much yet, Stephen," Constance answered; "but when can, I dare say one of his first visits will be to you." And after a little more talk with the old man, she turned her steps homeward, musing as she walked whether Stephen's words were true, that Eustace would be pleased to see her.

"Well, Lily, shall we go to the Rectory this evening and meet the travellers, or will it be too much for Eustace after his journey ?" her father asked, as they rode together on the afternoon of the next day.

"I cannot tell, Papa; you must decide."

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Nay, my child, this is a case in which I would rather take a woman's judgment than a man's. But shall we compromise matters, and call at the Rectory and ask Aunt Mabel ?"

Aunt Mabel was decidedly in favour of their coming; she thought that Eustace would most probably go at once to his father's study, where she had prepared a sofa for him, and then they could pay him visits there in turn, and it would be a pleasure to Mr. Clifford to meet Mr. Montrevor. So before the return of the carriage which was sent to the station to meet them, Constance, her father, and Aunt Mabel sat to

gether in the snug little drawing-room at the Rectory, discoursing on indifferent subjects, and fancying every gust of wind was the sound of carriage-wheels.

It came at length,-but the expressions of welcome took rather a hushed tone as Eustace's thin, tall form, leaning on his father for support, entered the hall. He went, as Aunt Mabel had imagined, to the study at once, spoke but few words, and soon stretched himself on the sofa. After a few minutes his father signed to them to leave the room, and Antonio, who considered himself head nurse, came in, arranged the pillows, and in a confidential whisper suggested to his father that he should have some tea at once, and be left quiet the rest of the evening.

He could not have recommended anything better, and Eustace felt grateful to him for the suggestion. All adjourned to the dining-room, where "high tea" was prepared. Aunt Mabel begged Constance to take her place at the head of the table, that she might be at liberty to creep in and out and see that Eustace had all he needed; and Constance was glad that she was behind the urn, and could listen without being obliged to take part in the conversation.

Their journey and its adventures were amusingly and originally detailed by Gerard: he and Mr. Montrevor had the conversation to themselves, for the Rector seemed too much tired and too full of thought to take part in it. By degrees Constance found herself being drawn into it, for remarks were addressed to her and questions asked, and after the commencement it seemed as easy to talk as to listen.

When tea was over, her uncle took her to the study