The French teacher here thought it advisable to follow in the wake of her superior, by paying me a compliment. "You must have your feelings in great subjection," said she; "I am sure you behave admirably on the occasion: what a happy thing it is that the baby is not a boy!"

I was on the point of asking her to explain her mysterious remarks, when she was called away to the assistance of a little girl suffering in the agonies of an intricate French verb, and I pursued my train of perplexed reflection. "What command over my feelings have I shown?" thought I. "When I believed my mother to be in danger, I was anything but calm and composed; and why is it a happy thing that the baby is not a boy? People, generally, seem to wish for boys in preference to girls; and, if my father and mother have done so, I am sure it is a pity they should be disappointed."

I was roused from these cogitations-which certainly justified my title to the honours of unworldliness--by a summons to attend my master in arithmetic, and while covering a slate with the figures of long division, I never thought of that plain practical rule of simple division, that a fortune divided by two, becomes just half its original quantity! When a month had elapsed, I returned home for the vacation: I was welcomed warmly as usual by my parents, and had no need to feel jealous of the favour enjoyed in the family by the newly arrived young lady. My mother was thoroughly vexed and disconcerted by the whole affair; she had, to use her own expression, "forgotten all about infants," and did not like the trouble of reviving her nursery lore. Then our house, although elegant, was not large: two apartments were set aside for my own use, and a boudoir and second spare room must be sacrificed for nursery accommodation; the child seemed to her to be remarkably fretful, and to cry much more than dear Althea had ever used to do; in short, no baby, whose arrival had been ostentatiously heralded by a white silk and silver pincushion, bearing the courteous words—“Welcome, sweet babe," ever yet found its reception so completely contradictory of the flattering promise of the said fallacious pincushion. My father had felt no wish for any addition to his family, but he had reconciled himself to the prospect of it

better than my mother. All men a part of whose property consists of land, feel a natural complacence in the idea that it shall descend to an heir rather than to an heiress; when, however, the expected heir proved to be as the old butler emphatically and ungallantly observed, "of the wrong sort," he lost all feeling of interest in it. He had a daughter already," he observed; "a girl was no novelty." And the little stranger in her bassinet, with a crying face and an over-trimmed cap, was very unlikely to rival the ringletted blooming girl, who could sketch the landscapes and sing the songs of other lands, translate from the German, repeat talk about the flowers as though her wonted place of abode had been under ground, and enlarge on the stars as if she had lived all her life in a castle in the air. Yes, I was wonderfully accomplished; everybody said so, and very little notice was bestowed on the baby by our visitors: she was called Dora, after a married sister of my mother's, who resided in France, and who stood godmother by proxy to her. A nurse was engaged for her, and she was then confined to the "sweet seclusion" of the former boudoir and second spare room, and I returned to Mrs. Burnett's, ready to assure all curious inquirers that I was just as unworldly as ever, and that I was quite as willing the baby should have been born as not.

A year elapsed, and the close of it was distinguished by an event far from acceptable to my parents; another baby was born, another girl too. My father began to dread that these pledges of affection might become "splendid annuals," and my mother uttered a pathetic inquiry, to which nobody could return an answer, of "how she could possibly introduce Althea if this sad business were to occur again?" Katherine-for so was the baby named, was received with even less warmth of welcome than Dora had been; and the monthly nurse, that chartered flatterer, having received a chilling look of contempt from my mother in return for her fearless prophecy that "Miss Katherine's beautiful black eyes would break hearts without number some day or other," she was compelled to preserve an unwilling silence on the charms of her little nursling, indemnifying herself by sundry muttered soliloquies on the future triumphs in store for her. We had no other intruders on our domestic quiet. I left Mrs. Burnett's in half a year, and my mother felt herself competent to the task of introducing me; neither her health nor spirits had suffered by her increase of maternal cares, perhaps for the very good reason that she took little or no care of her children. My mother was an amiable woman, and had entered on her matrimonial career fully determined to perform all her relative duties; she had taken her own mother as a model, but the cases differed when they were brought into comparison. My grandmother had favoured the world with two girls in two years; she had superintended their sayings and doings in the nursery with exemplary perseverance, she had selected an

"consider for a moment that your place can be supplied by infants whose minds have not hitherto expanded, and whose tempers are yet to be developed? if you leave us, you leave us to a dreary home, more sad on account of the light and the joy that you once caused to reign within it."

I thought of the ballad of "Auld Robin Gray;" the situation of the heroine was different, but two lines were very applicable—

"My father urged me sair, my mither did nae speak, But she looked in my face till my heart was like to break."

I burst into tears, my resolution gave way, I consented to sacrifice my first love, to refuse Captain Thornton. I will pass over the distressing interview with my lover that ensued; I found it impossible to induce him to sympathise with the feelings which impelled me to reject him-he persisted in imputing my conduct to weakness of mind, want of affection, and selfish love of my own comfort and convenience; and I had the opportunity of hearing from various good-natured friends that such was his impression concerning me up to the very moment of his departure. "Had my parents," he said, "absolutely prohibited my union with him, he would not have tempted me to disobey them; but they had allowed me to act as I pleasedI preferred them to my lover, and thereby proved that I knew not the nature of true and devoted attachment." Thornton was so candid and right-minded that he would not have continued, after the first ebullitions of feeling, to judge thus severely of me, had he not been influenced by the malicious interference of one of his own family. I have said that I was fortunate enough to be a favourite with his father and mother, but I stood very low in the good opinion of his married sister, Mrs. Ibbot

son.

She was many years older than her brother, and had always assumed the right of advising and controlling him; it was her object to keep him single, for her father's estates, which were of great value, would then eventually become the property of her eldest son, a boy about ten years of age she was disconcerted beyond measure when he paid his addresses to me, and proportionably delighted at my refusal, but she feared that he would renew his proposals, and that my determination, or that of my parents, would give way, and therefore industriously endeavoured to implant in his mind the idea that his love had been undervalued, and his feelings trifled with, by a cold-hearted, selfish coquette. Captain Thornton went to India, my father and mother regained their spirits, but I slowly regained mine; outwardly I smiled, but I felt for many months that the admiration of the world had lost all charm for me, and that the gaieties of society failed to enliven and interest

others for one alone, might not in a great measure apply to our case when we felt so strong and sincere an affection for an individual as to be willing to connect ourselves with him in the ties of marriage. Soon, however, I reflected that the love which bound me to my parents was of no common description, that it was probable a separation from me might have shortened their lives, or, at all events, undermined their health and happiness; and, in that case, I could never have forgiven myself for my selfish and unfeeling desertion of them, never have known a peaceful hour, even in the society of the chosen one of my heart and judgment. Consequently, I determined to believe that all had happened for the best-the love of my parents towards me appeared still more fervent than ever; they had promised me, when I rejected Captain Thornton on their account, that they would never press me to accept any offer, however brilliant and desirable, against my inclination; and when, at the age of three-and-twenty, I refused Lord Welby, who was young, handsome, wealthy, and amiable, they did not, even by a word or hint, endeavour to induce me to revoke my determination. They certainly behaved admirably on this and every similar occasion; and enjoying the affection of my nearest connexions, the approbation of my own conscience, and the homage of the world, I felt that I could bear my fate with tolerable tranquillity, even although "crossed in love;" that I could walk over Blackfriar's Bridge without casting one "longing, lingering look" on its parapet; and that when I visited the Monument, with a group of country cousins, I had not to contend with the remotest inclination to descend from it in any more precipitate manner than by quietly walking down the stairs. Let not my readers be too severe upon me for thus professedly enjoying my triumphs in society: I can truly say that had my parents been out of the question, I would have joyfully forsaken the world to have lived in seclusion with Thornton; but he was lost to me by my own act and deed, and no abjuration of society could have restored him to me. I wished to gratify the fond love of my father and mother-perhaps, too, I had a little self-love to be gratified, but I certainly never was a coquette, and never excited hopes which it was my intention to disappoint. I always refused an offer of marriage with pain, but I was pleased at being accounted beautiful and attractive, and the audible murmurs and commendations of my person, which were sure to greet my entrance into a crowded room, never failed to be acceptable to my ears. I had endeavoured to form myself on the model of the well-known lines

"Favours to none, to all she smiles extends;

Oft she rejects, but never once offends;" And I believe I pretty well succeeded in my attempt, and that no reigning belle ever stood so high in the estimation of her own sex, or converted so many rejected admirers into friends among the other. Yet let me not be supposed

to represent myself as an exemplary character; I loved society too well, I estimated its approval too highly, and I well deserved to experience its slights and coldness at a future time. I must also candidly plead guilty to another fault; I was indifferent and cold-hearted to my little sisters; I might have won their affections, watched their unfolding minds, amused and instructed them, but I contented myself with paying them a short daily visit, and reconciled my conscience to this neglect of them by the example of my mother, an example which in that respect I must say had better have been avoided than followed.

When Dora was six years of age, my mother engaged a nursery governess for her juvenile progeny. This nursery governess was a most exemplary young person: I call her by that name because it was more familiar to me than her real one, for it was my mother's constant habit to tell every morning visitor that "she had an invaluable young person in the nursery, who had not a wish or thought apart from the children;" and well was her commendation merited, for the young person in question "looked at the world through the back windows," as if she had never looked at it through the front ones. She was evidently and sincerely fond of Dora and Katherine, but her redundant capabilities of loving seemed to extend themselves to all animate, even inanimate things; she had a dingy canary bird in a very small cage, a bowl of gold fish, and several white mice; she had also a stage of sickly greenhouse plants, which shared the usual fate of their parlour brethren, in being visited by too little sun and too much water for their good, and over which she used to bend with as much fond earnestness as if she understood the native language of the flowers, and were holding with them a sweet and sad colloquy concerning the days of the past. She had no taste, like some of the "young persons" in our neighbours' establishments, for cheap artificial flowers and showy-coloured muslins; she was always dressed in grey merino and a black lace cap, and looked something like a nun; but she was not dead to all romantic associations, for she wore a mysterious miniature round her neck; and once, on suddenly entering the room, I found her weeping over a packet of time-worn letters tied with a faded blue ribbon. She lived in our family for three years; my mother was then persuaded by a friend to send Dora and Katherine to school, and she left us, and settled herself in a lodging near us, where she painted screens and worked ottomans for sale, and sometimes gave lessons in French and drawing in the vicinity, at a rate of remuneration very desirable to economical housewives. Dora and Katherine felt no grief at leaving home; they had never, poor things, known the sweetness of domestic affection. When they returned in the holidays, they took up their abode in their usual apartments, where they were warmly welcomed by the above-mentioned "young person," who was quite the guardian genius of our family, and always came to stay with us in the

vacation-time; they were occasionally admitted into the drawing-room, where they made a very pretty back-ground appearance in their white frocks, coral necklaces, and shining curls, but they were incorrigibly shy and silent. My father considerately said that they were 'just the stupid age," but my mother, more severe in her judgment, settled at once that they had no affections," and drew a lively comparison between their sullenness and coldness, and the gratitude and warmth of heart of dear Althea at the same period of life.

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Some years elapsed; I was nine-and-twenty, and my admirers began to decrease: I had seen my best days; I had lost the freshness of girlish bloom; not that I myself discerned any difference, but I could not be blind to the opinions of others, although good breeding restrained them from any outward demonstration of it. When presented to strangers, the glance of earnest admiration was no longer bestowed on me; my hand in the dance ceased to be an object of eager contention; I was not followed in public walks, nor did I suffer under a heavy fire of opera-glasses at public places. Strange to say, I perceived this alteration long before my parents did; my mother simply remarked that she did not wonder I had met with no new proposals of late: she was only surprised that anybody should have hoped to gain me when my rejection of Lord Welby was so generally known; and my father replied, Never mind, my dear; all is just as we could wish it; Althea grows better and prettier every day, and I do not think I could spare her even to Lord Welby himself."

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About this time the Chevalier de Meronville died, and left the whole of his large property to his wife; she wrote to my mother, volunteering a visit to us, and saying that she was most anxious to be introduced to her dear nieces, in whom she took the warmest interest.

A wealthy widow, who has her property at her own disposal, is sure to be warmly welcomed by her relations; and Madame de Meronville's letter received an enthusiastic reply from my mother. She arrived in England, and wrote to us informing us of the time when we might expect her. I well remember the evening on which we sat awaiting her arrival. Dora and Katherine were of the party; it was their vacation time, and as Madame de Meronville had spoken of her nieces in the plural number, my mother deemed it well that we should form a family group to greet her on her entrance. I felt nervous and dispirited; I knew that my aunt had been informed that I was a distinguished beauty. "She will be sadly disappointed," I thought, as I looked in the mirror. I had been growing thin and pale of late years, and the mourning I wore for the Chevalier de Meronville made me appear still thinner and paler; my hair also had lost much of its luxuriance, and contrasted ill with the rich clustering curls of my younger sisters. My father asked Dora how old she was; she had told him twenty times before, but he always forgot her answer.

"I

am thirteen next birthday," she replied, with some exultation at being so near her teens. The sound jarred on my ear. "I am thirty next birth-day," I thought; "Dora is entering on the sunny season of life: I am passing into the shade," and I remembered the words of an old

song

"Days of my youth, ye are gliding away;

Days of my youth, ye will shortly be vanished."

My train of meditation was, however, broken by a bustle in the hall, and the entrance of my aunt. The first joy of meeting over, Madame de Meronville directed a scrutinizing glance at "You have not been well lately, Althea, I fear," she said, "and yet my sister has not mentioned your indisposition in her letters."

me.

I assured her that I was in perfect health. "Your hours are so late in England," she said, "that I ought not to wonder if your roses begin to droop towards the close of the season just as the garden roses come into bloom."

"Althea does not indulge in late hours, I assure you," said my father, who could not endure even the appearance of a reflection upon me; "I think she has recently become quite indifferent to balls and large parties."

"Doubtless," said Madame de Meronville, addressing me, you have somewhat of the feelings of a mother, as well as of a sister, to these dear girls, who are so many years younger than yourself; and I dare say you have no pleasure so great as in conversing with them, and cultivating their minds."

My aunt had certainly taken the means to bring back the roses to my cheeks. I had very lately been calculating that I was seventeen years older than Dora, but I had no idea of being reminded of my seniority in so abrupt a manner.

"Dora and Katherine," interposed my mother," are at an excellent establishment, where the improvement of their minds is carefully attended to; you must not, however, expect to find them very clever."

"Must I not?" said my aunt, smiling. "Is beauty their sole possession? Well, it must be allowed that it has been dispensed to them with no niggard hand; I have seen nothing in France so lovely as my sweet little nieces."

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"My dear sister," exclaimed my mother hastily, you must not ridicule my poor little girls; they are quite conscious that they possess no personal recommendations."

"Mamma says that Althea has engrossed all the beauty of the family," observed Dora. Madame de Meronville looked at me with a peculiar smile; had she spoken her thoughts, she would doubtless have said that my beauty was a tradition of former days, but she merely remarked to my mother, "You, of all people, must not deny the pretensions of your little girls to beauty; Dora is the image of yourself in your juvenile days, and Katherine is just like me at the same period; but I am afraid we cannot gratify ourselves with the belief that posterity is degenerating from our own high standard; we

must allow these presuming young people to have very greatly improved upon our girlish appearance."

My mother here rang the bell, and dismissed her juvenile beauties to their balmy slumbers; but the mischief was done, their blushing cheeks and sparkling eyes clearly showed that they had for the first time in their lives sipped of the enchanted cup of flattery, or rather I should say of praise, for they certainly fully deserved all that my aunt had said about them. My father and mother now endeavoured to draw me into notice, but it was evident to me that Madame de Meronville was prejudiced against me; she believed (in which she did me injustice) that I had artfully alienated the affections of my parents from my sisters, and that I took an envious pleasure in mortifying and depressing my young and lovely rivals. She likewise considered my age at variance with my position in the family; her French experience had taught her to divide the ornamental portion of society into two classes -young girls and married women; and she avowedly considered that "single ladies of a certain age," if not consigned to a convent, ought to separate themselves in dress, habits, and manners from the juvenile; discard flowers, flounces, and flirtations; and occupy their time in quietly conversing with their contemporaries, and trimming dresses for their younger sisters. My aunt's first evening was a specimen of many succeeding days; she loaded Dora and Katherine with presents, compliments, and caresses, and at the end of a fortnight said to my mother, "I have sometimes, Althea, felt very angry with you for your evident indifference towards your sweet younger girls, but I believe now that all is for the best; I can, with greater courage, make the request of you that you will spare to me not one, but both."

"Both!" exclaimed my mother; "I could never think of troubling you so much, my dear sister; I certainly thought that Dora might prove an agreeable companion to you in your widowhood, but it would be unmerciful to burden you with Katherine also."

I undoubtedly," said my aunt, came here with the purpose of adopting Dora; she is my godchild and my namesake, and seemed to have a claim upon me beyond that of her sister; but Katherine's striking personal likeness to myself in my juvenile days places her at least on an equality with Dora in my estimation; besides, the dear girls are so much attached to each other that it would be barbarous to divide them. I intend to reside during the greater part of the year in Paris; I shall procure the best masters for Dora and Katherine, and introduce them at a future period into the best society; I do not like to bind myself by any promises as to their future provision, but you are aware that my husband left a large property at my entire control; he had no near relations, and I have none but yourself and your children; judge then whether Dora and Katherine are not likely to inherit my possessions."

My mother was delighted with this munificent