RS. AYMER'S husband has come home," said Sophia; "he returned last night."

M

"What is he like ?" said Agnes, looking up from her drawing, with some interest. "Such a good-looking, honest-looking young sailor! just a match for his pretty young wife-and so domestic! He is now sitting by the kitchen fire, basting our goose."

"Home just in time to keep Michaelmas Day," said Mrs. Monkton. "I must have a talk with him by-andby, I think."

Mrs. Monkton and her daughters were lodging for a few weeks in a cottage so small that they had had no idea, at first, of remaining there for more than a day or two to look out for better quarters. But better quarters

were not to be had, and in the meanwhile, the exceeding kindliness and simplicity of their landlady so won on them, and the neighbourhood of the little fishing village seemed so worth exploring, that they were continuing where they were without any fixed plan when to go. Mrs. Aymer "did for them," as the saying is; and she

was as neat-handed a Phillis as even an invalid could desire. There was hardly an idle moment in her life, yet she made no bustle; and whatever she might be about, there was a look of smiling content on her fair, child-like face, as if she were thinking of something pleasant.

The women and girls of the place were better dressed than persons of their class can usually afford to be; and on Sundays it was astonishing what gay turn-outs there would be from very poor cottages. To a superficial observer, this gave an appearance of thriving prosperity.

During the first few days, it did not transpire whether Mrs. Aymer were widow or wife. A respectable-looking mother occasionally dropped in on her, but there was no man about the house. On the Sunday, however, she casually observed that she stayed at home to take care of the house when her husband was away. When he was at home, they took it in turns to attend morning service, and went together in the evening.

"Mrs. Aymer, what is your husband ?"

"A smuggler, ma'am."

Mrs. Monkton stopped short. Her daughters looked petrified. Mrs. Monkton said, "Oh, but I'm sorry to hear that," quietly, but very gravely.

"Are you, ma'am ?" said Mrs. Aymer, with her pretty, innocent look; "why, I think I do things worse than that every day."

Her daily life was apparently so blameless, that the mother and daughters wondered what she could be thinking of. She evidently meant to imply that, in her view, smuggling was no fault at all.

"I see it in a very different light from what you do,"