thoughts are best. What's done cannot be

undone.

Yours,

N. D."

Mary felt somewhat in the situation of the sleeper awakened, as she perused these mysterious anathemas; and rubbed her eyes more than once, in hopes of dispelling the mist that she thought must needs be upon them. But in vain: it seemed only to increase with every effort she made to remove it. Not a single ray of light fell on the palpable obscure of Miss Jacky's composition, that could enable her to penetrate the dark profound that encompassed her. She was aware, indeed, that when her aunt meant to be pathetic or energetic, she always had recourse to the longest and the strongest words she could possibly lay her hands upon; and Mary had been well accustomed to hear her childish faults and juvenile indiscretions denounced, in the most awful

terms, as crimes of the deepest dye. Many an exordium she had listened to, on the tearing of her frock, or the losing of her glove, that might have served as a preface to the Newgate Calendar, Colquhoun on the Police, or any other register of crimes. Still she had always been able to detect some clue to her own misdeeds; but here even conjecture was baffled, and in vain she sought for some resting place for her imagination, in the probable misdemeanour of her lover. But even allowing all possible latitude for Jacky's pen, she was forced to acknowledge there must be some ground for her aunt to build upon. Superficial as her structures generally were, like children's card-houses, they had always something to rest upon; though (unlike them) her creations were invariably upon a gigantic scale.

Mary had often reflected with surprise, that, although Lady Maclaughlan had been the person to introduce her to Mrs. Len-nox, no intercourse had taken place be

tween the families themselves; and when she had mentioned them to each other, Mrs. Lennox had only sighed, and Lady Maclaughlan had humphed. She despaired of arriving at the knowledge of the truth from her aunts. Grizzy's brain was a mere wisp of contradictions; and Jacky's mind was of that violent hue, that cast its own shade upon every object that came in contact with it. To mention the matter to Colonel Lennox was only to make her relations ridiculous; and, in short, although it was a formidable step, the result of her deliberation was to go to Lady Maclaughlan, and request a solution of her aunt's dark sayings. She therefore departed for Milsom Street, and, upon entering the drawing-room, found Grizzy alone, and evidently in even more than usual perturbation.

“Oh, Mary!” cried she, as her niece entered, "I'm sure, I'm thankful you're come. I was just wishing for you. You can't think how much mischief your yesterday's

visit has done. It's a thousand pities, I declare, that ever you said a word about your marriage to Sir Sampson. But, of course, I don't mean to blame you, Mary. You know you couldn't help it; so don't vex yourself, for you know that will not make the thing any better now. Only if Sir Sampson should die-to be sure I must always think it was you that killed him; and I'm sure that will soon kill me too-such a friend -Oh, Mary!" Here a burst of grief choked poor Miss Grizzy's utterance.

My dear aunt," said Mary, "you certainly must be mistaken. Sir Sampson seems to retain no recollection of me. It is therefore impossible that I could cause him any pain or agitation."

"There's

"O certainly!" said Grizzy. no doubt Sir Sampson has quite forgot you, Mary-and no wonder-with your being so long away; but I daresay he'll come to know you yet. But I'm sure, I hope to goodness he'll never know you as Mrs.

Lennox, Mary. That would break his heart altogether; for you know the Lennoxes have always been the greatest enemies of the Maclaughlans,-and, of course, Sir Sampson can't bear any body of the name, which is quite natural. And it was very thoughtless in me to have forgot that, till Philistine put me in mind of it, and poor Sir Sampson has had a very bad night; so I'm sure, I hope, Mary, you'll never think any more about Colonel Lennox: and, take my word for it, you'll get plenty of husbands yet. Now, since there's a peace, there will be plenty of fine young officers coming home. There's young Balquhadan, a captain, I know, in some regiment; and there's Dhalahulish, and Lochgrunason, and But Miss Grizzy's ideas here shot out into so many ramifications upon the different branches of the county tree, that it would be in vain for any but a true Celt to attempt to follow her.

Mary again tried to lead her back to the