er, which, after the first few days, was many times a-day. So, after a month of this purgatory, she was transferred to the nursery as under-nurse to the children of Lady Harriet's daughter, Mrs. Morga

t that the world had been unkind to her-a feeling which justif

came their birth, they and the new nurse soon got on very well together. Part of every fine day was spent out of doors, and that also helped to make petty troubles bearable. It is only bitter care and sorrow that seem heavier under God's sky than within four walls. At first the upper nurse always formed one of the party, and was rather a nuisance in her persiste

inconvenient. As a stroke of policy, therefore, she was often sent off with the two elder children to wander through the park and gardens, or into the woods, as the whims of the children or her own might dictate, while the "baby," as the youngster was still called, went with the other nurse in quest of Mr. Peacock. Then Sarah was in bliss. She danced alo

on it and not be struck with its beauty. Her complexion was fair like her mother's, but her features resembled her father's. The face was a fine soft oval, the nose aquiline, the brow perhaps narrower than strong intellect demanded, but high and open, and the eyes of greyish blue were large

dressed in her clean, neat, print gown, with her rich brown hair perhaps broken loose and tossing about her shoulders as she runs hither and thither, chased by the shouting

erful device, and with a couple of setters at his heels, who barked half in surprise at the sudden apparition. Sarah came rushing from behind a clump of rhododendrons, and almost fell at the Captain's feet, through the violent wrench she gave herself to avoid a collision. Cecil Wiseman opened his heavy eyes, stared in

e had perhaps been too hard on him for his wild oat sowing. It was part of the education of gentlemen in his position, and, no doubt, contributed to endow them with that contempt for the feelings of the common people proper to aristocr

oing so, the more his passion incited him to acts of apparent self-denial. He grew an adept in hypocrisy in order to put the girl, his mother, everyone, off the scent, and it became posit

times, if he met her with the children, which was often enough,-it seemed to be always by chance,-he would be busy discussing horticulture with the gardener, fishing, or going for a row on the pond, off to the warren to shoot, always occupied, and always ready to express noisy surpr

however, she became familiar with the Captain's face and figure, and his presence ceased to be either repulsive to her or to frighten her. Not very tall, heavy in make, and, with fluffy, sodden features, and a skin already over red from dissipation, Captain Cecil was by no means an attractive person. His voice, too, was harsh, and his eye evil. For all that, patience and cunning

had been, there was now the ashes of a burnt-out fire. Ah, poor young lass, this squire's son, this noble captain of Her Majesty's Dragoon Guards, had done his best to destroy you, body and soul, and boasted of the deed. In proportion, as the task was hard, he exulted at his success. To destroy the life of a virtuous girl was almost a greater triumph to

as allured to her destruction, like the moth to the candle. Thus far she was guilty; but wilt thou condemn her, O censor? And if so, what of the man? Is it not strange that he, so much more guilty, should go scatheless; that to "society," as the froth at the top insolently calls itself, this base creature, this loathsome seducer, should be as good as ever? For him the lofty mothers of the aristocracy would have no censure, in him their daughters, should whispers of his deeds reach their ears, would have a livelier interest. Amongst most people he would bear