h that she would reside
with him at Paris. The wish rather confirmed them, as it evinced that he
was no longer indifferent to her own and his child's society. With
joyful alacrity she consented, but in vain endeavoured to banish from
Mary's mind the foreboding fears that appeared to have filled it, from
the hour it was settled they were to leave Monte Rosa. In vain her
mother affectionately represented how much nearer she would be to
Herbert; nothing could remove, though she strove to conquer, this
seemingly uncalled-for and indefinable despondency.

"I confess my weakness," she wrote to her betrothed, "but I had so often
pictured remaining at Monte Rosa till you came for me, as you had
promised, so often pictured to myself the delight of showing to you my
favourite haunts, ere we left them together for still dearer England,
that I cannot bear to find these visions dispelled without pain. I know
you will tell me I ought to be thankful for this great and happy change
in my father, and bear every privation for the chance of binding him to
us for ever. Do not reprove me, dear Herbert, but there is that about my
father that bids me tremble still, and whispers the calm is not lasting;
in vain I strive against it, but a voice tells me, in thus leaving Monte
Rosa, peace lingers in its beautiful shades, and woe's dark shadow
stands threatening before me."

Herbert longed to go to her, and thus disperse all these foreboding
fears, but that pleasure the near approach of his ordination prevented;
but fondly he looked forward with unalloyed hope in a few months to seek
his Mary, and at once banish all indefinable sorrow by making her his
own. Not a doubt entered his mind of Mr. Greville's consent, when he
should in person demand it, and he was eager to do so while this
strangely indulgent humour continued.

The first few months of her residence in Paris were fraught with
happiness for Mrs. Greville. Her husband's manner did not change. They
mingled in society, and the admiration Mary's quiet beauty excited
afforded the greatest pleasure to her mother, and even appeared to
inspire her father with some pride. To the poor girl herself it was
irksome and painful; but she tried to convince herself these feelings
were wrong, and checked them even in her letters to Herbert.

Ellen returned from Moorlands, where she had been staying with Lilla,
whose affection for her continued unabated; for she found in her society
and sympathy much c