feelings for which I now suffer. And that suffering, dearest Henry," added the girl, with a choking voice, "is all the greater because of your pain. My own disappointment, I may bear; but the thought that you have been made wretched, adds to it a poignancy almost insupportable."

Henry remained silent for a while, and his companion gazed earnestly towards him, striving in the darkness to learn from his outward appearance what was passing within. But so long did the youth remain motionless, that she grew frightened as well as anxious; and once more putting her hand on his arm, said, pleadingly,

Speak, Henry, O speak, and say that you do not think I intended to wound you."

He raised himself up from the bending posture which he had maintained during the latter part of the interview, and assumed a more manly attitude. His head regained its wonted elevation; his heart swelled out with dignified, self-possessed thoughts; his manhood, which had for a minute deserted him, returned with its intelligence and self-sustaining power; and turning calmly towards Diamond, he drew her to him, as he had done a thousand times before, till her head was nestled in his bosom.

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Diamond," he said, and his voice was the same guiding voice, giving utterance to the thoughts of a strong mind within, which she had been accustomed to hear with respect, and leaning confidence. "Diamond, this has been a terrible hour to me. To you, who have been familiar with the idea you have announced, and therefore so far prepared for consequences, it may not have been so utterly overwhelming; but to me, who never before dreamed of it, this sudden presentation before my mind, when I hoped that the vision of happiness I have long cherished was about to be consummated, has been very prostrating in its influence, and you must not wonder at the weakness I have manifested. But the first shock is In these last silent now passed, and my mind is getting clearer.

moments, I have looked closely at your idea, and see that it possesses a very great deal of force. I do not say that I think it sufficient to prevent our union, but to a sensitively pure mind it would come like a shadow over married life; and as in your eyes it takes a form wife. so penetrating, it would be wrong in me to urge you to be my We must then, as you say, bravely bow to these our bitter circumstances. It will be a hard, a very hard trial to both of us, but it seems appointed for our bearing. Possessed as we are of the affections which yearn for domestic felicity, it is doubly difficult to forego this the highest joy of the human lot; but as our position would take away a chief element of that joy, and introduce painful doubts and feelings, the sacrifice must be made. As lovers, then, we part this night for ever; but we must, oh we must, be brother

and sister still. There is nothing to hinder this companionship; and shall it not be all the dearer to us because of that which deprives us of a holier relationship? Let us still be one in heart and affection, partakers of each other's joys and sorrows, exchanging in all their frankness and freeness the endearments and attentions of fraternal affection. Say, Diamond, shall not this be the case?"

"Yes, yes," murmured the noble girl, and clung to him with a helpless, yet grateful grasp. How changed were they now, these two young beings, standing thus with the silence and obscurity of night around them! A little while ago, he was bowed down and overcome by grief, and she was affording him strength and consulation; he was overwhelmed amid a surging sea of despair, bereft of his manhood's strength, and alike hopeless and helpless in his agony; and she-herself a deep sufferer in the same calamityyet nobly suppressing her tears and her sighs, that she might support his sinking energies. But now all is changed, and the manly and womanly nature again come out. His perceptions, clouded by the sudden shock, gain their wonted clearness; the strength and courage of his strong heart and mind, borne down by the suddenness and violence of the grief, rise above the waters, and he is himself again, sad and sorrowful it is true, and but half resigned, yet no longer in the depth of prostration. And with his returning manhood, her strength gives way. Since it is no longer needful to cheer and encourage him, she comes back upon herself, and realizes the sacrifice she has made; and listening to his words, which seal the hope that had in reality been sealed in her heart for years, she trembles and feels her womanhood. She is again the comforted, and he the comforter; the leaner, and he the support; the weak, helpless one, and he the protector, according to God's order and wise arrangement.

Alas!

Brother and sister they said they were henceforth to be. alas! how egregiously do they deceive themselves! as if hearts that had loved with a holier love could ever let it die, or subside into any thing less divine, however dear. They thought they had been brother and sister; but did not this night's interview show how deeply both had been mistaken? And as it was in the past, so shall it be in the future. They may imagine that in thought, feeling, and action, they stand to each other in this relationship; but a look, a glance, a sigh, will ever come to remind them that their hearts are charged with a stronger passion, that love cannot be diluted, cannot be reduced, cannot be made any thing but what it is, the most exquisitely tender, yet quenchless, unconquerable thing in the universe of God.

But they are young, very young, and this mistake may be pardoned, especially as they will find it out and understand it by-andby. Let them wander back again to the city, with their arms twined

round each other, dreaming that they have not yet lost all; that though fate, dark and mysterious, forbids them to wed, they can still rejoice in each other's presence and each other's smile. It is time enough yet, nay it is too soon, in the first hours of their grief, to learn that they have in their hearts that which craves something beyond the name and the affection of BROTHER and SISTER.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE ORPHAN.

"WHAT'S come o' Henry the nicht, Mr Everly?" inquired Mrs Ford, putting her blithe, motherly face into the room in which Richard sat, at a pretty late hour, on the evening referred to in last Chapter.

"I really cannot say, Mrs Ford," replied the latter. "He left the office before me; at least, I could not get my eyes on him when I passed through the case-room."

"Aye, he'll be awa up to the Lawnmarket, I fancy. Simple laddie, dis he think I dinna see hoo things are gaun ?"

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Ab, ha! Henry is in love, then?" said Richard, with interest. "'Deed is he, as far gane as ony callant can be."

"And who is the lady? I trust she is suitable and worthy of him."

"A better he couldna hae fa'en in wi'," replied the landlady promptly, and with an appearance of great satisfaction.

"In that case, I suppose you will have no objection to the marriage, then?" remarked her lodger, with a half smile.

Objection, sir! Na, na; I wad hae nae richt to object ony way, but far less when she is so weel fitted for him."

"Nay, you certainly would have a right to advise against the union, if the object of his choice was unworthy, or if there was a probability of the step issuing in his unhappiness; for are not you his natural guardian, at least the only one who has from childhood exercised a care over him?"

"Ye'r richt, sir; but for a' that, I couldna tak' it upon me to dictate to him in sic a matter as this. It's true, that I brought him up; but he's dune far mair for me than ever I did for him. Indeed, if it hadna been for Henry, I micht hae dee'd at the back o' a dyke. I ken fine that he wad hae been married afore this, if it hadna been his consideration for me; and, I'm shure, I canna tell ye, Mr Everly, hoo glad I was when you and Mr Gray got him that new situation, for he will be able now to set up hoose without infringin' on what he ca's his duty to me."

"If you have time, and are inclined, Mrs Ford, I should like to
know Henry's history," said Richard. "I am strongly interested
in the young man; and having an idea that there is a mystery
attached to his birth, would be glad to know the particulars."

"Wi' great pleasure, sir," answered the landlady, coming briskly
in, and taking a seat on the other side of the fire-place.
"It's a lang
story, and a queer story, and, as ye say, there is a mystery aboot it,
that I doot will never be cleared up. But, hoosoever, I'll jist begin
at the beginnin', and tell ye it in my ain way.'

Richard, insensibly beguiled from his own consuming thoughts, put his feet upon the fender, and settled himself into a listening attitude, when Mrs Ford thus began

"It's just three-and-twenty year next month since I was married. Thainas Ford, my husband, was a weel-daein', industrious man, a compositor in the King's Hoose; and never was onybody sae happy thegither as him and I. He took this large, nice hoose-rather owre big and grand for a compositor and his wife to live in; but he said he wanted to mak' me comfortable, and his wages wad afford it. Still I wasna very content; and as we had nae family, and my hands no very full, I thocht I micht as weel help to mak' the income bigger if I could. We had twa bonny, weel-furnished rooms in the hoose, never used; and I thocht if I could get lodgers, it wad gie me some wark to look after them, as weel as add something to the sum that gaed every week into the saving bank. I spak to Thamas aboot it; and though he wasna very fond o' the idea at first, yet he did consent that it should be tried. So the very neist day he stoppit half-an-hour ahint the ithers, and set up, in big letters, the words, Furnished Lodgings,' and got a pressman to pull half-a-dizen o' them, and brocht them doon in his pocket. Then at nicht, after he cam' hame, he got a bit broad, and pasted twa o' them on to it, ane on ilka side, and nailed it to the ootside o' the window. O, hoo prood was I neist mornin' to see the snawwhite sign stickin' oot where everybody could see it! to the street wi' Thamas when he went to his wark at breakfastI gaed doon time, and lookit up, and saw it shinin' in the mornin' sunlicht.

"Now, Mary lass,' said Thamas, clappin' me on the shouther, 'tak' care wha ye let the rooms to. Be shure that the folk are respectable; for if we get dishonest lodgers, we had far better be without them. And tak' my advice, if a young, spreeish gent comes seekin' them, dinna let him into them at nae rate, for

"O, ye're jealous, are ye?' cried I, lauchin' richt oot in his face, afore he had finished the sentence.

"No, I'm no jealous,' said he; 'but it wadna look weel ava for the folk to see a smart, swaggerin' young fallaw gaun oot and in; and ye ken naebody can shut the folk's mooths.'

“Very weel, lad,' says I, 'I'll dae the best to mak' things richt;"

6*

for, ye see, I kenned Thamas was a very sensible man, and judged a' thing maist reasonably. So we pairted at the stair-fit, and I cam awa up to the hoose.

Mony days passed, and to my surprise naebody speered aboot our lodgin's. The guidman was rather pleased than otherwise; but I was the very opposite, for I had set my heart on haein' the rooms let; and ye ken, sir, whan a woman ance fixes on a thing, she canna be putten aff't. Weel, ae afternoon, just aboot the darknin', whan I was sittin' by mysel', a lood knock comes to the door. It was sae sudden and sae startlin' that my very heart loupit to my mooth; but I gat up and opened it. In the dusk, I got a glisk o'a tall, strappin' chield, six fit high, and stood as dumb as a stookie.

"You hae furnished lodgin's here, I believe?' said the man, in a clear, sweet voice; and whanever I heard the tongue, I kenned it was nae common body, for he didna speak broad Scotch.

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Yes, sir,' said I, no kennin' very weel what to say, for Thamas' words aboot young gents rang in my ears.

"Will ye be kind eneuch to let me look at them ?' he askit, in his smooth way; and really I couldna say no, for he seemed sae civil. So I let him in, and showed him ben to this room, and ran awa to licht a candle, wonderin' a' the time hoo I was to get rid o' him. Whan I went ben again, he glanced carelessly roond the room, but lookit far mair earnestly at me, so that I fairly hung doon my head, and blushed. Frae the hurried glance I got o' him, I saw he was a guid-lookin' chield, no very stout, but lang and weelformed, wi' a high forehead, big blue een, the pleasantest lips I ever saw, and a crap o' licht broon, curly hair. To tell ye the truth, I likit him at first sicht, though I saw I durstna let the room to him. "He lookit and lookit, and better lookit at me, no impudent like, but as if he was tryin' to read my character. At last, to my great relief, he spak'. The rooms will suit, I think,' he said, in a low

voice, as if half speakin' to his seľ. I suppose?'

You will be very quiet here,

"O yes, sir; very quiet,' I said; but I wad rather prefer a leddy to lodge wi' me.' "Ye wud?' cried he, wi' animation. Then yours is just the hoose I am in search o'. It is a leddy that's

comin' to the rooms.'

"O, I'm glad o' that,' cried I; and so I was, for I didna ken hoo to say no to sic a braw gentleman. Weel, matters were settled; he gaed awa, and in aboot an hour cam back wi' my leddy lodger. What a bonny young creature she was; and, O hoo sweetly did she smile on her companion! If ever happiness was enjoyed earth, I'm shure she was happy at that time. She shakit hand as if she had kenned me a' her days, and lauched sae prettily wi her little, bonny mooth; and he stood by in pride and joy, lookin' at us baith. Then they gaed ben to the room, and steekit the

my

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