o herself, and
dashed her hand over her eyes; and at the moment the lock turned,
and a gray head appeared, with a mighty odour of smoke. "Ah! I
thought my little Lena would not pass me by! Have you had a
pleasant party, my dear? Was young Strangeways there?"

She had nestled in his arms, and hoped to avoid notice by keeping
her head bent against him, as she hastily responded to his
questions; but he detected something.

"Eh? Camilla been lecturing? Is that it? You've not been crying,
little one? It is all right, you know! You and I were jolly enough
at Rockpier; but it was time we were taken in hand, or you would
have grown into a regular little nun, among all those black coats."

"I wish I were."

"Nonsense! You don't know life! You'll tell another story one of
these days; and hark childie, when you've married, and saved the old
place, you'll keep the old room for the old man, and we'll have our
own way again."

She could but kiss him, and hide her agitation in caresses, ere
hurrying up the stairs she reached her own rooms, a single bed-
chamber opening into a more spacious sitting-room, now partially
lighted by the candles on the toilette-table within.

She flung herself down on a chair beyond the line of light, and
panted out half aloud, "Oh! I am in the toils! Oh for help! Oh
for advice! Oh! if I knew the right! Am I unfair? am I cold and
hard and proud? Is she telling me true? No, I know she is not--not
the whole truth, and I don't know what is left out, or what is
false! And I'm as bad--making them think I give in and discard
Frank! Oh! is that my pride--or that it is too bad to encourage him
now I know more? He'll soon scorn me, and leave off--whatever he
ever thought of me. She has taken me from all my friends--and she
will take him away! No one is left me but papa; and though she
can't hurt his love, she has got his confidence away, and made him
join against me! But that one thing I'll never, never do!"

She started up, and opened a locked purple photograph-album, with
'In Memoriam' inscribed on it--her hands trembling so that she could
hardly turn the key. She turned to the likeness of a young man--a
painful likeness of a handsome face, where the hard verities of sun-
painting had refused to veil the haggard trace of early dissipation,
though the eyes had still the fascinating smile that had made her
brother Tom, with his flashes of fitful good-nature, the idol of his
little