"And what is to become of me?" said Blanche. “That is what I wished to talk to you about. We must manage to go to the poor people together; and, when Susan has a holiday, I can come up to you in the morning, and we can ride together; and then, these nice summer evenings, there will be no difficulty in meeting."

Eleanor spoke eagerly and confidently, and Blanche did not stop to analyse possibilities; nor did she remark how much her friend had changed since they had parted the preceding evening. She was too much accustomed to Eleanor's varying moods to inquire their cause.

"I am longing to begin," continued Eleanor; "but to-day you know is no day, and Charles being here makes such a difference. It is impossible to do anything but idle away one's time with him."

Blanche smiled, but she did not wish the subject to be pursued; for she was afraid lest Eleanor might discover that Mr. Wentworth, notwithstanding his handsome face and his agreeable manners, did not entirely answer her preconceived expectations.

"And now I have talked all about myself," said Eleanor, "I should like to hear something about yourself:-the castle, and your father, and your own rooms. They must be exquisite, I am sure. Mamma had the whole choosing of the furniture, and everything, and she has such taste!"

"Yes, indeed she has," exclaimed Blanche; but I wish I had known it, I should have thanked her so much more."

"Oh! mamma is not a person to require thanks; she only requires to know that you like it: and I saw by her smile just now that she was satisfied. That is her unselfish smile. I believe she would have it if she was in the greatest suffering, if she thought another person was happy."

"I did not know what it meant," said Blanche "but I suppose I shall understand you all by-and-by when I don't feel so shy."

Eleanor laughed.

"As to that, Blanche," she said, "you have no right to complain. The joint wisdom and gravity of my whole family-uncles, aunts, and cousins included, and I have an interminable number, could never be half as awful as Lord Rutherford's politeness, I don't know what I shall do at the castle.'

"I think I rather like being afraid of him," said Blanche. "Do you remember, Eleanor, how we used to walk up and down the garden at St. Ebbe's, and discuss the different kinds of affection?"

"And how we always differed," said Eleanor. "You with your fondness for looking up; and I with my perverse inclination to look down; no, not down exactly, but quite on a level."

"And then our appeals to Mrs. Howard," said Blanche. "That will be the one great thing wanting to my happiness. If she were but here!”

Yes," replied Eleanor, but she will be with us soon, and then it will be such great, such very great pleasure; and now, without her, I have more hope of making you think as I do in all sorts of ways; for she always supported you."

"But," said Blanche, "before Mrs. Howard talked to us, I never could see anything in your arguments to convince me that love is greatest when persons are on an equality; and there is one thing, you know entirely against it, devotion—which is the highest and purest love."

"I can't follow you in an argument, Blanche, today," exclaimed Eleanor; "my mind is not up to it, as it is sometimes."

Blanche looked disappointed. "I thought," she said, "that you would let me talk of these things always."

"Yes, so you shall; but I don't think I am in that sort of sober mood to-day; I am too happy."

"I am happy, too," said Blanche; "but my extacies went away with my walk this morning, and I don't wish them to last."

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"Mine never do," replied Eleanor, laughing; I am in no fear. I shall pay dearly for all my enjoyment before night comes, I dare say. It would be much better to be like you, Blanche; your extacies never go quite away, I am sure, though you say they do."

"I don't know," said Blanche; "certainly, I don't feel much of them at this moment; and some feelings you have which are much more lasting than

mine.

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Blanche spoke as she thought, truly; yet it was only her own humility, and a natural respect for Eleanor's talents and decided opinions, which could have blinded her to the fact, that Eleanor was in reality swayed by every passing impulse; that she expressed herself strongly, but that she acted weakly. And, if Blanche had been quicker in discerning, Eleanor would have felt greater hesitation in owning her faults. But it required no effort to lament changeableness and hastiness, and the defects of an enthusiastic temperament, when she was sure to be met with a quick refutation of her self accusations, and to hear instances adduced which apparently proved her to be the very reverse of what she acknowledged. It was one of the weaknesses of Blanche's character that where she loved she could not or would not see anything amiss. “I must try and be regular in my habits," she said, "pursuing the conversation; "but I am afraid it will be very difficult. I should like especially to know something of the poor people, if your papa will put me in the way."

Papa hopes you will take a great interest in

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them," said Eleanor; "he told me this morning that it was of immense consequence to you and to them; and he talked a great deal about the vast power, either for good or evil, which had been placed in your hands."

"In mine!" exclaimed Blanche ; am so young."

cr now when I "But you are not going to remain young always," replied Eleanor; "and, besides, whether young or old, you are still Lady Blanche Evelyn, the heiress of Rutherford."

"Yes," answered Blanche, with a deep sigh, which made Eleanor laugh heartily.

"You are the very strangest person, Blanche! Just think how many thousands there are in the world who would envy you."

"And I am to be envied," exclaimed Blanche, "for my friends,-for papa, and Mrs. Howard, and you ;-and for my health too, and my education, and innumerable things; but not because I was born to have power."

Yes, if you exercise it properly," said Eleanor. "If! but there is a doubt. Mrs. Howard is afraid of me; she thinks I shall be spoilt, and that papa will not tell me of my faults. Oh! Eleanor, it might be very different if I had a mother."

"You may have one, if you choose," replied Eleanor, "Mamma is already inclined to feel for you as her child."

Blanche did not receive the comfort which was expected from this assurance: her notion of a mother's affection was of something widely different from Mrs. Wentworth's cold shake of the hand. "Your mamma is very kind," she said; "I am sure she will do everything she can to help me. But still I must be very much to myself; and, even during the few hours I have been at home, I have understood more

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of what Mrs. Howard meant. The castle is so grand, and the servants seem almost to bow before me; and as for papa, he watches my every look, that I may not have a wish ungratified; and when I awoke this morning, and saw my beautiful room, I did not feel as I used to do at St. Ebbe's; I thought that I could order more and have my own will; and then I remembered what Mrs. Howard said, and I was frightened."

Eleanor was touched by this simple confession. That which caused alarm to Blanche, would, she well knew, have passed unnoticed by herself. "You will be used to it all, dear Blanche, by-and-by," she said; "and then you will not think so much about it, and worry yourself; and I dare say we shall both be able to go on steadily; and, if you want to know the poor people, we can go to them together. The first person we must find out is the blind girl who was confirmed with us. Papa says he knows who she is very well; it was her aunt, who is the mistress of the Charity School, that she was staying with; but she is coming back directly. We will go and see her the first day we can, won't we?"

"Even this shadow of a duty was some relief to poor Blanche, whose conscience had a natural tendency to become morbidly sensitive, and Eleanor saw that she had struck upon the right chord. Anxious to make Blanche feel as light-hearted as herself, she continued to plan a scheme of duties and occupations, so cleverly and earnestly, that before the conversation was interrupted both were equally satisfied. Eleanor having talked herself into the belief that she was certainly devoted to a useful life; and Blanche, having listened, till she was persuaded that with such a friend, constantly at hand to remind her of neglects, she could never go far astray.

The afternoon was spent at the castle, where Blanche