"Mrs. Wentworth paused," and her voice sank again into its quiet stillness, as she said, "One only knows."

"But tell me ; help me, if you can," said Eleanor ; "tell me what I must be if I am not what you describe. Mamma, it may do me more good than you can think."

"Would you wish to hear?" replied Mrs. Wentworth. "You will think me exaggerating, yet I have watched the downward progress of many characters like yours, and the general outline is alike in all. First, self-dissatisfaction and a longing for the respect which might be deserved, and then an endeavour to be satisfied with mere admiration instead ; admiration becoming necessary, and sinking gradually into the craving of a miserable vanity; and this changing in old age into a sharp, cynical narrowness of mind, which is wretchedness to itself and others. I am not speaking in the least too strongly, Eleanor. I have seen it, and grieved over it; and the first symptom has always been that fickleness of action, though not of intention, in little things, which you are always regretting."

"And never amending," said Eleanor. "Mamma, I must do so, I will." The house-bell rang at that moment; Eleanor coloured deeply. "It is Adelaide Charlton," she said. "I did very wrong; I asked her to come."

"Mrs. Wentworth strove hard not to show her real annoyance."

"She shall stay but a few minutes," continued Eleanor. "She has only to look over some music, and she knows I shall be busy."

Miss Charlton was announced in the drawing-room. Mrs. Wentworth rose and said she would receive her, and, collecting her letters, was preparing to go, when Dr. Wentworth's voice was heard. The meet

ing at the Union was deferred; he was returned unexpectedly, and he came to the window to say so.

"I want you, my dear, particularly. I must have you for a few minutes to go into the village with me." "Is it really necessary? There are visitors in the drawing-room."

"What visitors? Only Miss Charlton. Charles and Eleanor will entertain her."

Mrs. Wentworth's conscience smote her for the pride which had made her shut up from her husband the anxieties which she imagined he could not sympathise with. Now, when she wanted his assistance, he was working unknowingly against her.

"Indeed, I must have you, my dear," he continued. "I am in a hurry."

Mrs. Wentworth could say no more; but she looked at Eleanor as she joined him, and Eleanor answered the look with, "Adelaide will only stay a few minutes. I shall not let her do so."

CHAPTER XXV.

"I HOPE I am not interrupting you," began Adelaide Charlton, as Eleanor welcomed her with a gravity of manner which she could not hide.

"Oh! pray don't name it. I shall find the music I mentioned almost immediately," and Eleanor began searching for it hurriedly; inquiring at the same time for every one at the castle.

Adelaide rattled on in her usual style. They must have had a bad night, she supposed, for they all seemed cross; but she made a point of never inquiring what was the matter. She had left Maude and Blanche in close conversation; but, of course, she did not know what it was about: they were becoming such desperate friends, it would not do to pry into their secrets.

Eleanor bent over the music-stand, and regretted that the lost piece of music was not forthcoming; but promised to look for it, and send it to the castle in the course of the day.

"Oh! it does not signify; was Adelaide's indifferent reply. "One never really cares for any particular piece; I dare say you have a good many that I don't know. May I look?" She took up a piece of music, hummed a few notes, thought it seemed pretty, and seated herself at the piano to try

it. "Awfully difficult all this style of music is, and not in good taste, people say; at least, Maude says so, and she is the oracle. After all, instrumental music is worth nothing compared with vocal. How badly your brother and I sang last night! We really

must practise before we exhibit again. Don't you think it would be a good thing to have practising days?"

"If one had time, it might be," said Eleanor.

"Oh, but we must make time, I have no notion of persons not finding sufficient time for anything they wish. I protest, there is that enchanting trio we were talking of; you must try it."

"A trio for two persons!" said Eleanor, laughing; "that will not quite do."

"Never mind; just try your part."

She struck the first few chords; Eleanor grew hopeless of escape. Adelaide's visit was from her own invitation, and she could not summon courage to shorten it by confessing her engagements.

"You very good people are so methodical," continued Adelaide; " you quite put one to the blush. I declare, to see the way Blanche goes on is enough to convert one into an automaton. I must have some music this morning to put me in good humour."

"Can that ever be needed?" asked a voice from behind her; and, to Eleanor's extreme annoyance, her brother joined them.

Adelaide Charlton's manner showed instantaneously the working of her mind. There was a little blushing, a little bantering, a good many quick upward glances, interspersed with a few downcast modest ones; some pretty nonsense about music and flowers, and a pretence at shyness, when Mr. Wentworth asked her to sing, with an evident disinclination to leave off when she had begun. It was vanity, unmistakeable; and Eleanor stood by and compared Adelaide's flirting with her own dignity; and, in the pleasure of selfsatisfaction, forgot her mother's caution and her own promises. And so the minutes went by, and Eleanor satisfied herself that the waste of time could not be

avoided, and therefore it could not be wrong to enjoy it. And she did enjoy it in a measure.

There is generally something agreeable in that sort of light, quick conversation which accompanies music, and Adelaide Charlton was not deficient in talent of a certain kind. She had travelled and could relate amusing adventures herself, and assist Mr. Wentworth in remembering his; and she had seen more of the world than Eleanor, and laughed at many of her simple notions; she was older also, and had been presented at court, and was acquainted with people of rank and fashion. These were all ingredients of influence, especially when mingled with them was the thought "Notwithstanding all these advantages, I am the superior."

"And now, Charles, we really must be steady," was at length Eleanor's faint endeavour to stop the flow of the conversation. "I am doing very wrong in staying here, and you are doing very wrong too, Adelaide. I must be rude and send you away, or we shall both get into disgrace."

Adelaide started from her seat; Go, must I? Well, I suppose I have been here an immense time. I did not mean to stay a quarter of an hour. Mr. Wentworth, I must trouble you to return my glove : you seem bent upon keeping possession of it; but I am afraid it will not be quite as useful to you as to She held out her hand, and to her surprise, the glove was given as a matter of course, and Mr. Wentworth, turning suddenly to his sister, said, in a tone of quiet politeness, "Eleanor, you do not seeLady Blanche Evelyn."

me."

Blanche was at the window, and Mr. Wentworth stepped forward to open it. His manner was quite different; thoughtful and respectful, as if some sudden spell had been cast over him. Yet Blanche