my money will be well spent if it assist in recovering your precious health."

Paul silently pressed her hand, and she proceeded cheerfully and coaxingly

"Think of the Lake of Como, that Claude Melnotte talks so much about. Only fancy your being able to see all those grand mountains one hears of; one of which is vomiting forth smoke and red cinders on one side of you, while on the top of the other it's freezing for dear life."

In this way Mrs. Godfrey chattered: all her kind feelings were awakened for the broken-hearted man whom she feared would never live to see the year out.

"Clo' and papa have already told you, my dearest mother, of what is about to happen. Yes, all is settled; and in twelve days hence I shall become the Duchess of Lissborough. We are all staying at Sir John Craggsbridge's, where we shall remain till we leave for Eaglemount Castle. Papa says he has arranged that you join us on the 20th. I send you the enclosed bank-note, that you may be enabled to provide yourself with necessary equipments for the occasion.

"Clo' did not permit me to see the whole of your last letter to her; and I have been filled with uneasy thoughts lest you did not approve of my conduct. Your congratulations have been so stiff and constrained. Do not reproach me, my darling mamma-all is for the best-papa says so; and I think so. Not one word of him when we meet. I could not bear to hear his name now; it is my duty to forget it. Do you understand me, my own mother, whose affection I prize so dearly? There are some acts in our lives, to the commission of which we are forced by an unseen yet powerful hand

"All unavoidable is the doom of destiny.'

"I will not pursue the theme further. I will bury the past in the swallowing gulf of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.' "'RINA,"

Vain hope! Who can drive from the heart the recollection of the being most beloved? Memory tenaciously clings to the dear one's image, and each day Fancy adorns it with a new charm of person or mind.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Ir was the last night of 'Rina's performance on any boards-as the play-bills say. She had chosen for her farewell part the character in which she had first appeared in London. The theatre was crowded to suffocation, for everybody seemed anxious to behold the actress who was about to wear a coronet.

Mr. Trenmore was distressed at being forced to part with his most attractive actress; but his generous nature forbade his making any complaint, or even inflicting the usual fine for breach of engagement.

The curtain fell amid loud plaudits, and the sisters were called before the curtain to receive an especial ovation. Bouquets, garlands, and wreaths were flung from boxes and stalls; ladies waved their handkerchiefs, while gentlemen clapped their hands, and vociferously shouted-"Brava ! brava !"

Mr. Trenmore led 'Rina into the green-room, where all the performers, male and female, were assembled to take leave of the future Duchess of Lissborough. 'Rina was pale and agitated. She had stood behind the footlights for the last time, and strange thoughts stirred in her breast. Henceforth her station would be lofty and proud-would she be happy in that station?

"I am sorry to lose you, my little duchess in embryo,” said Mr. Darly, shaking her hand vehemently. "Pray excuse me; I'm called for the farce! business before pleasure. No, no, I didn't mean to say that; for this parting isn't a pleasurable event. Aha! I was the wizard who foretold

"Mr. Darly, you're called, sir."

"All right, Brill." And the old actor rubbed his chin and hurried away.

"Ah, goddess of my soul!" cried Mr. Chatterton Mowbray, waving his arms like a windmill in a hurricane, and raising his eyes to the ceiling, "must I indeed say farewell to thee? How shall I ever again play the Duke Aranza, without my fairest Juliana? My wife was alternately in fits of despair and rapture-rapture and despair, when she heard you were going to leave us in order to become a real duchess. Suffer me to kiss your hand. Believe me, you have my most sincere wishes for your future felicity. My wife, Mrs. Chatterton Mowbray, desired me to repeat in the words of the great bard——”

"The deuce take you, Chatterton! you're monopolizing the lady," said Mr. Trenmore, laughingly drawing 'Rina away to a corner of the apartment, where she was quickly surrounded by the rest of the company.

"Health and happiness to you!" exclaimed one.

"I echo that wish," cried another.

"Don't quite forget me, my child!" said an elderly lady. "Oh, Mrs. Hescott! you shall never be forgotten. You have ever been so kind to my sister and me.'

"Your sister remains with us, does she not ?" asked the lady.

"She will complete her engagement with Mr. Trenmore," rejoined 'Rina. "I can answer for her no further." "Ah! by-and-by I suppose she'll be hopping off with some great man!"

At this moment Julius and Clotilda entered the room, and together approached 'Rina.

"The carriage is waiting," said her father, in a louder tone than necessary; "and his grace is most impatient this evening."

"I have to undress, but shall not keep you long," replied she. 66 Adieu-adieu, my friends,"

"Adieu-adieu."

And the actress hastened from the green-room: a few minutes afterwards she was ensconsed in a corner of Sir John's carriage, and proceeding towards Park Lane.

During the whole of the drive neither Julius nor Clotilda

spoke to 'Rina, who seemed abstracted, and sat with her. eyes fixed upon the bouquets and garlands that had been thrown to her that night, and which she now was carrying home as trophies of her last triumph. Where were her thoughts at that moment? Assuredly not with him who was about to call her bride.

The duke considered he was making a vast sacrifice in wedding the actress, but he was fascinated by her-she was so beautiful, so courted; and, had she been surrounded by a score of vulgar relations, he would have married her. He had never dreamed of taking a wife to Eaglemount; he had always scoffed at that knot which ties for ever-now he would not, for worlds, have possessed 'Rina otherwise than honourably. This change in the duke's sentiments was not precisely the result of Sir John's advice-his grace's chief counsellor being vanity,-nor had honour or feeling any voice in the matter.

After much debating with Sir John, and consultation with 'Rina, the duke decided that the marriage should take place in London; and that the bride and bridegroom should spend their honeymoon under the ancient roof of Eaglemount Castle.

A few days before her wedding 'Rina drooped perceptibly, and those around her noticed that her cheeks had grown paler, and that her eyes were constantly swollen and red with weeping. Clotilda alone knew the cause of her sister's tears.

Emma arrived in town on the evening previous to her daughter's wedding-day, and all were assembled in an apartment in Sir John's house. The meeting between the mother and her girls was constrained-almost sorrowful. Emma felt that all was not peace within 'Rina's breast; and she trembled for her child's future. She glanced at the duke's white head and stern face, and then at 'Rina's bright curls and youthful countenance. Oh, what a contrast! May, sunny May and frosty December-fragrant flowers and withered leaves. Emma spoke to Sir John. She said she feared unequal matches, but trusted her 'Rina would be happy. Emma thought of her own married life and its disappointments and hard trials, through which a devoted affection for her husband and children had alone supported her.

But with 'Rina the case was altogether different. She

was about to link her fate with one man, while her heart was fondly attached to another. Such a union appeared to Emma little less than an act of deliberate and wicked perjury, at contemplation of which she shuddered. Was it possible that 'Rina could barter her truth and love for wealth and title? Alas! it was deep grief to the mother to witness this sacrifice of her cherished child.

Sir John tried to allay Emma's anxiety. He said it was difficult to decide what things it were wisest to do, or to leave undone. Equally difficult it would be to judge the issue of any marriage, whatever brilliant prospects it might put forth to the world. To talk or argue about the matter now, at the eleventh hour, would be sheer folly-madness. The projected alliance could not be broken off, except at the risk of 'Rina's good name; therefore Emma must not interfere. The caution was unnecessary: she did not dream of interfering. She knew that Julius had contrived this match, and to his wishes she had ever been accustomed to bow obediently.

Sir John fell into a fit of musing, and his thoughts wandered far back into the past: the tones of Emma's voice had carried them thither. "She has not been happy," he mentally exclaimed, as he gazed at her care-worn face, on which the lines of suffering were deeply written. “Ah, no! she has known affliction; I think I can read her history truly. Not forty years of age, yet her features are pinched and haggard as if she reckoned ten years more. Poor Emma! thy lot had been different hadst thou been mine." Thoughts corresponding with the above were passing through her mind: she was reviewing her past life and all its bitter ills; her husband's neglect, and her struggles with poverty and want. "It is sinful to imagine that I should have been happier with him," she mused within herself as she raised her calm eyes and looked at Sir John's benevolent countenance; "I am very wicked to permit such thoughts to enter my breast. Sleep, sleep remembrance! I must not regret. Let me see my children happy-let the sunbeams of life fall upon their heads; and the clouds which have darkened my existence shall for ever be forgotten."

"How lovely she is!" thought the duke, half closing his eyes and critically regarding 'Rina as if she were a piece