r the Governess's Institution,
promising her a daughter's care and attendance on her old age. Gentle
old Miss Wells was but too happy in her new quarters, though she
constantly averred that she knew she should not continue there; treated
as injuries to herself all Honor's assertions of the dignity of age and
old maidishness, and remained convinced that she should soon see her
married.

Honora had not seen Mr. Sandbrook since his return from Canada, though
his living was not thirty miles from the City. There had been exchanges
of calls when he had been in London, but these had only resulted in the
leaving of cards; and from various causes she had been unable to meet him
at dinner. She heard of him, however, from their mutual connection, old
Mrs. Sandbrook, who had made a visit at Wrapworth, and came home stored
with anecdotes of the style in which he lived, the charms of Mrs.
Sandbrook, and the beauty of the children. As far as Honora could
gather, and very unwillingly she did so, he was leading the life of an
easy-going, well-beneficed clergyman, not neglecting the parish,
according to the requirements of the day, indeed slightly exceeding them,
very popular, good-natured, and charitable, and in great request in a
numerous, demi-suburban neighbourhood, for all sorts of not unclerical
gaieties. The Rev. O. Sandbrook was often to be met with in the papers,
preaching everywhere and for everything, and whispers went about of his
speedy promotion to a situation of greater note. In the seventh year of
his marriage, his wife died, and Honora was told of his overwhelming
grief, how he utterly refused all comfort or alleviation, and threw
himself with all his soul into his parish and his children. People spoke
of him as going about among the poor from morning to night, with his
little ones by his side, shrinking from all other society, teaching them
and nursing them himself, and endeavouring to the utmost to be as both
parents in one. The youngest, a delicate infant, soon followed her
mother to the grave, and old Mrs. Sandbrook proved herself to have no
parent's heart by being provoked with his agonizing grief for the 'poor
little sickly thing,' while it was not in Honora's nature not to feel the
more tenderly towards the idol of her girlish days, because he was in
trouble.

It was autumn, the period when leaves fall off and grow damp, and London
birds of passage fly home to their smoky nests. Honora, who had gone to