more injurious to her character than if she had been accustomed to it from childhood. But it was too late to remedy the mistake. Blanche was about to enter upon the world, unknowing of its snares, and guarded only by the simple piety of a humble spirit, which has learned to distrust itself, and to lean only upon God. As she was then, there was nothing to fear but how long her simplicity would remain untainted, her heart uncorrupted by the flattering homage which awaited her, was a question which only the most unhesitating faith could have borne to ask.

books; and society in the castle and its neighbourhood.

Mrs. Howard almost smiled at the feeling of dread which she had allowed to disturb her, as she owned to herself that Eleanor's situation in life seemed peculiarly free from temptation; whilst, again, she sadly reverted to Blanche-noble, beautiful, and rich, but deprived of a mother's care, and with no one to be her daily guide and counsellor, but the father, whom there was reason to fear might be little fitted for such an office.

The position was undoubtedly one of peril, and self-accusations mingled with Mrs. Howard's forebodings. Memory went back to the hour when, as an innocent, unconscious infant, the child of her early friend had been committed to her care; when, after the lapse of but a few weeks from the death of the Countess of Rutherford, the earl had placed his daughter in her arms, and bade her love and guard her for her mother's sake. To love her was indeed easy; but to guard, to teach, to educate her— how had the task been performed? It was a sad array of errors and neglects, which conscience brought before the mind of one whom the world rightly judged to have discharged her duty faithfully and unshrinkingly; so much seemed to have been left unsaid, undone; so much higher an example might have been set; so many warnings and instructions given. As the painful reflections crowded upon her mind, a gentle tap at the door was heard, and Blanche entered the room. She was looking pale and ill, and her eyes were dimmed with tears; and Mrs. Howard, startled at her sudden appearance, inquired, in alarm, the cause. Blanche tried to smile, whilst she assured her that it was merely a whim—a freak;-she was restless, and could not sleep, and the light was shining underneath the dressing-room

"No," said Blanche; "but if-if I should gro careless, and not pray properly-"

"Fear for yourself, my love," replied Mrs. Howard "and then no other friend need fear for you; but i you can attend carefully to the few rules I gave yo the other day, I think you will find your duties les difficult than you imagine."

"I always now have some time to myself in th middle of the day," said Blanche; "but here I ca do as I choose."

"And you will do as you choose at home, my dear," replied Mrs. Howard. "I have no doubt o it. The best thing, however, to say to yourself, is not that you will, if you can, but that you must; that everything must, to a certain degree, give way to it; that if you cannot be alone at one hour, you I will be at another. We require not long prayers but frequent ones, to keep up our watchfulness."

"And then self-examination," said Blanche; "it is so difficult."

"Yes, most difficult; and the only way to make it easy is to practise it frequently; to carry it on from one part of the day to another, at the times we fix for our private devotions."

"The difficulty to me," said Blanche, "is, that all this makes one think so constantly of oneself!"

"So it may, at first; but the mind must be educated like the body. How is it, for instance, that you are able to walk without stumbling? If you are in a dangerous road, you observe where you are going; but, generally speaking, you are kept in safety, not by thinking of yourself, but of the objects around you."