ressed upon a mind so softened at that
hour to receive religious impressions, was received with gratitude and
respect. Subsequently their conversation fell upon Lady Vargrave,--a
theme dear to both of them. The old man was greatly touched by the poor
girl's unselfish anxiety for her mother's comfort, by her fears that she
might be missed, in those little attentions which filial love alone can
render; he was almost yet more touched when, with a less disinterested
feeling, Evelyn added mournfully,--

"Yet why, after all, should I fancy she will so miss me? Ah, though I
will not _dare_ complain of it, I feel still that she does not love me
as I love her."

"Evelyn," said the curate, with mild reproach, "have I not said that
your mother has known sorrow? And though sorrow does not annihilate
affection, it subdues its expression, and moderates its outward signs."

Evelyn sighed, and said no more.

As the good old man and his young friend returned to the cottage, Lord
Vargrave and Caroline approached them, emerging from an opposite part
of the grounds. The former hastened to Evelyn with his usual gayety and
frank address; and there was so much charm in the manner of a man, whom
_apparently_ the world and its cares had never rendered artificial or
reserved, that the curate himself was impressed by it. He thought that
Evelyn might be happy with one amiable enough for a companion and wise
enough for a guide. But old as he was, he had loved, and he knew that
there are instincts in the heart which defy all our calculations.

While Lumley was conversing, the little gate that made the communication
between the gardens and the neighbouring churchyard, through which was
the nearest access to the village, creaked on its hinges, and the quiet
and solitary figure of Lady Vargrave threw its shadow over the grass.

CHAPTER XIII.

AND I can listen to thee yet,
Can lie upon the plain;
And listen till I do beget
That golden time again.--WORDSWORTH.

IT was past midnight--hostess and guests had retired to repose--when
Lady Vargrave's door opened gently. The lady herself was kneeling at the
foot of the bed; the moonlight came through the half-drawn curtains of
the casement, and by its ray her pale, calm features looked paler, and
yet more hushed.

Evelyn, for she was the intruder, paused at the threshold till her
mother rose from her devotions, and then she threw herself on Lady
Vargrave's breast, sobbing as if her h