in a ruminating way; "oh, to be sure! I saw them this morning."

But the time came when the duties of a nurse were to be superseded by those of a governess, and Lord Grey protested that in that respect he was very particular; his particularities, however, entailed very little trouble upon him. Out of fifty or sixty governesses who presented themselves, he chose the very plainest and oldest, because he had heard that ugliness had a great deal of morality in its composition. Pretty governesses naturally thought a great deal of themselves, and Lord Grey was not quite sure if he might not encourage the propensity; so it was really extremely edifying, and showed much fatherly self-denial, when very pretty young women who undertook to teach" everything" and "anything" were politely dismissed, and a tall, stiff, thin, sallow, elderly lady selected as the governess for the two Miss Greys.

This sedate personage proved all that Lord Grey could wish, and even Lady Grey found it impossible to interfere with her plans. Miss Denbigh seemed born to rule her schoolroom, and it was wonderful how fond the children were of her. The evening visit to the drawing-room was changed for a walk with dear Miss Denbigh, and Lord Grey might have forgotten his girls still more effectually, for he did not follow "lost to sight, to memory dear," but a strange discordancy, called the rudiments of the pianoforte, reminded his lordship that he had two girls who were "mounting the ladder of learning."

Not a cloud disturbed the horizon of Mary Grey's girlhood; she had the measles slightly, the hooping-cough still slighter; she had a hundred girlish amusements, her birds, her plants, and she was very happy.

Clara was still under Miss Denbigh's

tuition, and Mary at sixteen was taking her first round of fashionable pleasures, but she lost her father, and after the temporary seclusion which Lady Grey's widowhood imposed on her, her young ears were disturbed by a confab peculiarly disagreeable to an innocent and gentle girl; she heard that her father had lost much of his fortune before he died; the circumstance was hushed up, because as the son of an earl, though a younger one, he had had expectations, substantial reasons to appease duns in the lifetime of their creditor, but very like an empty shadow, when the shade of the sepulchral cypresses hanging over the tomb of the expectant renders these expectations null and void.

All this was very wonderfully new to Mary; indeed she could hardly be persuaded that a nobleman could be in debt, and when her mamma assured her that her jointure

as Lady Anne in her own right was only three thousand a-year, and when she lamented that she had two children to share that money with, poor Mary was so intensely dull as to exclaim,

"Why, dear mamma, you must be joking; three thousand a-year is a large sum!"

Nothing at all to speak of," replied Lady Anne; enough to make me wish for more, that is all. But what I mean to say is this, you must read as few novels as possible, and make no sentimental female acquaintances whatever; for friends and novels engender romantic attachments, and romantic attachments mean marriages on love and penury: it is quite impossible to live upon those ingredients now-a-days, and you must seriously contemplate a marriage which will secure you proper advantages in life." At first Mary felt inclined to laugh, then she felt inclined to cry, next she half

determined to protest she should be an old maid, but she had a vague idea that there was something very dreadful in that, and as she had not formed any romantic attachment, she ended by assuring her mamma she would be very obedient to her wishes.

At seventeen Mary had refused two elderly, pompous, disagreeable suitors; the only favour she begged was that Lady Anne Grey (as she was styled by right of her hereditary title) should not be informed of her dreadful disregard of worldly advantages: the refused suitors very readily granted the request, and, thus early, Mary Grey learnt to keep her own secrets. How many young people can remember the first secret of their lives, the first tale of the heart, which they did not confide to any save their own bosoms! Poor Mary, her mamma appeared an enigma her young powers of comprehension could not solve; she was,