of
manners is the constant companion of noble sentiments and right actions;
or, does there lurk in your heart the longing for a sphere wherein you
yourself might contest for the prize of admiration? Oh, if this have a
share in your wishes, my own dear sister, beware of it. The more worthy
you are of such homage, the greater is your peril! It is not that I am
removed from all temptations of this kind; it is not because I have no
attractions of beauty, that I speak thus even poor, lame Nelly cannot
tear from her woman's heart the love of admiration. But for me, I fear,
for you, Kate, to whom these temptations will be heightened by your own
deservings. You are beautiful, and you blush as I speak the word; but
what if the time come when you will hear it unmoved? The modest sense of
shame gone, what will replace it? Pride yes, my dear sister, Pride
and Ambition! You will long for a station more in accordance with your
pretensions, more suited to your tastes."

"How you wrong me, Nelly!" burst Kate in. "The brightest dream of all
this brilliant future is the hope that I may come back to you more
worthy of your love; that, imbibing some of those traits whose
fascinations we have already felt, I may bring beneath our humble roof
some memories, at least, to beguile your toil."

"Oh, if that time should come!"

"And it will come, dearest Nelly," said Kate, as she threw her arms
around her, and kissed her affectionately. "But, see! there is papa
yonder; he is beckoning to us to join him;" and the two girls hastened
forward to where Dalton was standing, at the corner of the street.

"I'm thinking we ought to go up there, now," said Dalton, with a motion
of his hand in the direction of the hotel. "Take my arm, each of you."

They obeyed, and walked along in silence, till they reached the inn,
where Dalton entered, with a certain assumed ease and confidence, that
very commonly, with him, covered a weak purpose and a doubting spirit.

"Is Sir Stafford at home, or Lady Onslow?" asked he of Mr. Twig, who,
with a cigar in his mouth, and a "Galignani" in his hand, never rose
from the seat he occupied.

"Can't say, sir," was the cool response, which he delivered without
lifting his eyes from the newspaper.

"Do you know, ma'am?" said he, addressing Mademoiselle Celestine, who
happened to pass at the moment "do you know, ma'am, if Lady Onslow 's at
home?"

"She never receive in de morning," was the curt reply. And, with a very
im