was not there. It was long ere again she slept, and long and weary are the hours which hang over the unhappy, sad the long watches of the unpoised mind, but with this poor sorrower, there ever was a star of hope shining before her;-one star in a very dark dull night; one single star on which she ever kept her eye, and that was the impression that he had come back, and was somewhere near, and that she would find him at last, and in that pursuit she never tired. It was ever the burden of her conversation to each person she met, "Come and find him."

CHAPTER XXIX.

MISS BAXTER.

THE sad news of Leonard's untimely death and its crushing effect on Jessy Seymour, who was universally beloved by those who knew her, rapidly spread through the neighbourhood, and excited much interest and deep sympathy and compassion. Mr. Seymour, whose character was eminently respected, drew out the largest amount of sincere interest from every one. Though no one as yet liked to intrude on the solemn stillness which ever pervades the house of mourning,-other means were resorted to to discover the state of matters, and Mrs. Mulso's house was a great point for information to many. Her near relationship to Jessy as well as her attachment to her, and Mrs. Thorburn's known friend

ship for the unfortunate girl made that household the one above all others to be the resort of kind and in

terested inquirers.

Poor Mrs. Mulso was only too glad to give all the information in her power. It pleased her love of sarcasm on those whom she thought were causes of the evil, and gave a vent to her distressed mind. Sorrow for others takes many different forms. Perhaps it is true that the more reserved it is, the more real; nevertheless there are cases where much real kind-heartedness and sympathy are still existing though the tongue may too freely express it. There are some whose feelings lie very much in their expression of it, and without that power of expressing it, it would very much cease to exist. The word, the tone of voice, the pathetic account, sometimes not only express, but embody the feeling, and without them the heart would be to a certain extent, barren and cold. It is wonderful how words and manner kindle and increase the feelings of the heart wide and fierce flames sometimes burst out of small embers, nevertheless the flame by its very vigour spreads the area of the fuel which emits it. Such was Mrs. Mulso. Really kind-hearted and full of sympathy, yet there were some who doubted whether if she could not get her opportunity of expressing and giving vent to it she would have had much left to conceal in her silent and hidden heart. Her delight was to gather round her her own little coterie in her room and utter forth her plaints, or to inflict some wound through the shaft of sarcasm at breakfast, of which Mrs. Thorburn was generally the object; and if on these occasions she

succeeded in gaining an attentive audience or distressing her niece, she seemed like one who had gained her point, and was satisfied to spend the rest of her energy in binding up the wounds she had created, or in dissipating the exaggerations which she was conscious of having given utterance to.

Jessy's condition was a prolific theme; as yet she had not seen her. Indeed no one had, except Mrs. Thorburn; and this circumstance by no means quenched Mrs. Mulso's flame of jealousy and indignation.

A Miss Baxter was staying just now with Mrs. Mulso. She was a friend of Mrs. Thorburn, and had come for a few days, partly induced by sincere sympathy with what she had heard of Jessy Seymour. She knew her well, and had taken a deep interest in her, and though very unlike her in disposition and circumstances, nevertheless had longed to cultivate more and more the acquaintance.

Miss Baxter was the daughter of a gentleman whom reverses had brought down to a condition of poverty in the neighbourhood where once he had moved in considerable influence and power. He was now dead, and had left his daughter dependent on very small means; she had taken up her temporary residence with her brother, who had a post of small remuneration at Lincoln. She had one misfortune which much hindered her chance of success in life. She was lame, owing to a fall which she had from the carelessness of a nurse, when she was a child; and the effect of this had crippled her walk, and hindered her in many schemes which she had formed for her own support. A naturally

sweet and patient disposition adorned and strengthened by religion had made her a most winning and attractive character to those who knew her intimately; but her misfortunes, of which at first she had been too conscious, had made her retired in manner, and unwilling to live much in the society which her father's position might have given her a claim to. her friend, and with her she had happiest hours of her life.

Mrs. Thorburn was

spent some of the

Mrs. Mulso but half liked her, and considered her as but one of the set whose views and machinations, as she thought, had had the principal work in the sorrows which had fallen on the rectory. It was on a morning about a week after the events described in the last chapter, that Mrs. Mulso and her party were sitting at breakfast. A note from the rectory being placed in Mrs. Thorburn's hand from Mr. Seymour naturally led the thoughts to Jessy.

"There is no better news," said Mrs. Thorburn, folding up the note. "Miss Seymour remains in the same

state she has been in from the first."

"My poor brother," said Mrs. Mulso, "how little he expected such a blow to him in his declining years; so good, so excellent, so truly religious! It is so strange that we cannot let well alone. His admirable religion I should have thought would have been sufficient to have led his daughter to heaven. But however, the way there is unpaved now; the Fifth Commandment is turned upside down. It is no longer Honour your father and mother,' but despise them, and then all is right. I remember so well my mother used to say that

6

she believed the day was coming when children would consign their parents to a madhouse, under the charge of insanity, because they would not any longer brook old fashioned truth." Mrs. Mulso paused to see the effect of her remarks. Miss Baxter felt awkward, for she knew well enough that all was directed at Mrs. Thorburn; she felt distressed, accustomed as she was to Mrs. Mulso's manner. But Mrs. Thorburn had taken up her crochet work, and seemed prepared calmly to abide the storm, come what would, for she knew that much of Jessy's calamity would be laid at her door.

Surely no one thinks," said Miss Baxter, "that such a course can be blessed or be happy."

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No, indeed," said the old lady, who was waiting to catch fire at every point, "no, you see the effect on that poor unfortunate wreck-that lovely column shattered and broken down. Oh, what a noble mind was there o'erthrown! why could she not have been left alone with her kind old father? It's just the same story over again. I remember years ago, they drove poor Cowper the poet mad with some of their new-fangled doctrines, and one Mr. Newton sent half his parish into the County Lunatic Asylum by hammering Calvinism into them. But Calvinism grew out of fashion. It was too unintellectual for the increased refinement of the day."

"I do not quite see how any peculiar views on religion have effected this sad work on Miss Seymour," said Mrs. Thorburn quietly, seeing that her silence only increased the difficulty, and made the flame burn wider and wider. "Jessy Seymour has had her own sorrows and her own anxieties, but I do not see how there has