room, adorned with a profusion of flowers sent by Edith from the conservatories; and Father Hudson brought the last Sacraments to the now dying woman. Edith, and Frances, at her own

particular request, were present.

The scene was solemn and touching, and made a deep impression on the mind of her who now witnessed for the first time a Catholic ceremony. The silence was broken only by the tremulous voice of the aged priest, and the convulsive halfstifled sobs of Rose, who knelt with her hand clasped in that of Agnes. Frances gazed with astonishment at the calm resignation depicted in the elder sister's face, and compared it with her own frantic grief when, little more than a year before, she had stood by her own mother's dying bed. It did not once occur to her that Agnes's deep religious feeling enabled her thus to control her sorrow; she imputed it solely to difference of character. The tears rolled down her cheeks as her thoughts wandered to the flowery grave so many hundred miles away; then came the scarcely less painful remembrance of that lonely parent, who had so unselfishly deprived himself of her society; and when she thought of the far different position in which Agnes would be placed, with her little sister dependent on her, and no father to protect them, pity and sympathy for the orphan girls banished the recollection of her own sor

rows.

The two cousins returned home. Frances that evening was more subdued and thoughtful than

Edith had ever seen her, and often reverted to the lonely girl whose conduct that day had inspired her with so much respect.

Father Hudson, seeing that life was fast ebbing, would not leave until all was over, and, together with her children, prayed by the side of Mrs. Falkland. She lingered till morning. Once during the night she opened her eyes, and smiling brightly, exclaimed, "I shall soon see my boy!" A thrill went through Agnes's heart: she had not till now believed her brother to be really dead; but her mother's dying words seemed to bring conviction to her mind, and with heroic resolution the noble girl made a sacrifice of these two lives so dear to her.

After a time Mrs. Falkland again endeavoured to speak, and Agnes, with much difficulty, understood her to pronounce the single word "Rose." She instantly brought the half-frightened child to the bedside, and kneeling together, they received their mother's last blessing.

She after this relapsed into unconsciousness; and as the gray morning light began to penetrate the apartment, Father Hudson, seeing a change pass over her countenance, immediately gave her absolution, and a moment after the soul of the Christian woman stood in the presence of her Creator.

Then, and not till then, did Agnes's grief overcome her; her pent-up feelings could now no longer be restrained. The priest did not attempt to control her, as he knew that this burst of

sorrow would be a relief to her over-strained nerves. After a time she became calmer, and joined him in the prayers for the dead.

Rose had already worn herself out with crying, and now seemed almost unconscious of what was passing; she let Agnes take her away and put her to bed without speaking, and almost instantly fell into a deep sleep.

Agnes did not go to bed, but knelt by her sleeping sister, praying for the soul departed, and beseeching the Mother of Orphans to be a mother to her and the child who was now left entirely under her care.

over.

A few days more and all painful duties were Now it was that Agnes felt the loneliness of her position in all its stern reality. Father Hudson, in accordance with his Bishop's desire, had left Ferncliffe for some weeks at least. Edith, indeed, was kinder than ever, and all the family showed her the warmest sympathy.

Mrs. Percival had asked her and Rose to come and stay for a time at the Hall, in the hope that this change would dissipate the melancholy associations which must necessarily attach themselves to the cottage. O, how Agnes wished she could have accepted this invitation! She felt how beneficial it would have been to them both; but of course it was out of the question, after the warning she had received concerning Herbert. Her excuse was, that she wished to remain in perfect quiet and retirement.

CHAPTER IX.

MANŒUVRING.

"He felt the charm of Edith's eyes, Nor wanted hope to gain the prize."

"She could whisper, and smile, and sighPleading, flattering,—so can the rest;

But, O, the light in her roving eye

PARNELL.

Would have wiled the babe from its mother's breast."

"EDITH, my dear, let me have a look at you,' exclaimed Frances, darting into her cousin's dressing-room. After surveying her from head to foot for the space of a minute, she added in a dismayed tone, "I declare you have made yourself a perfect fright, and that cannot have been an easy task. Your maid must be a genius, my dear."

"Why, what is the matter?" asked Edith in amazement.

"Matter!" said her lively cousin. "The fact is, there are few people besides Julius Cæsar and Frances Macdonald who can do two things at once; and Edith Percival is certainly not one of the few. There is a time to read and a time to dress, my studious cousin ;" and she hastily closed an open book that lay on the dressing-table, putting it into the first drawer that she came to.

"Well,” said Edith, laughing, "I am dressed, and just going downstairs.'

"Dressed! yes, after a fashion; but going downstairs you are not, my dear, for the next ten minutes at least." And Frances, shutting the door, placed a chair before the mirror, while Edith, seeing there was no chance of escape, obediently scated herself.

"Now look at me," said Frances, turning round before her; "is there a fault in my toilet? and I have not been nearly so long in my room as you have, neither have I had anyone to assist me. That feather of yours," she continued, busily arranging Edith's head-dress, "puts one in mind of a clerk with a pen behind his ear.'

Before Edith had time to remonstrate, her necklace, bracelets, and indeed all her ornaments, were changed for others more suitable; for Frances was perfect in her taste.

66

Now, my dear, I defy anyone to resist our united charms," said she playfully, as she passed her arm round Edith's waist and looked into the mirror.

Having visitors at the Hall, Mr. Percival had invited some of the neighbouring gentry to meet them to spend an evening. It was the first time that Edith had been called upon by her father to do the honours at Ferncliffe Hall. Mrs. Percival's feeble health precluded her from taking her position, and hitherto Edith had been considered too young to be her representative. She was much pleased to have her cousin's assistance on this