confess that the interview had been too short to lay much stress upon his opinion of the patient. That she was coerced to some extent there was no question; how far her mind was weakened it was more difficult to pronounce. She evidently desired the presence of Clara, he added, but it must be for Miss Unwin to judge whether under such circumstances her feelings would allow her to continue where she was. The young girl saw that her companion thought she should remain if she could, that she was thus serving one who really required such service, and she scarcely hesitated to assent. Yet the atmosphere which surrounded her was a depressing one; to whom, she asked, should she apply in Paris, if the advice or shelter of a friend became necessary? The doctor supplied her with an address; strangely enough it was the same as that on the packet in her possession, so hastily delivered to her keeping by Mrs. Fuller She mentioned this; and like herself, the doctor, while surprised at the coincidence, was in no small degree satisfied, though neither of them could supply the link wanting for a further discovery. He gave her some advice as to how she was to treat Mrs. Fuller; and above all counselled Clara to endeavour to draw her from her own moody thoughts, and to try and interest her in men and things around her. If matters unhappily should become worse instead of better, Clara was to leave. From this chance visit, (as it seemed), of Dr. Newton, arose an important change in the circumstances of Mrs. Fuller. But with his departure, there returned to Clara that sense of contradiction, that noisome air, which seems to environ those we do not like.

She felt as if the theory of personal atmosphere being light and pleasant, or heavy and disagreeable, according to the brightness or darkness of the soul, might not be the mere fancy it is supposed by such as decry such speculations. She thought of Ticck, who advises those beset by this instinctive repugnance to follow its dictates, rather than to try to overcome them by opposing them; as well as of the fine exposition of such unerring instinct depicted by Goethe making Margaret shudder in the presence of Mephistopheles. Yet she smiled again as she thought of what atoms of evil she was thus composing a

mountain, and strove with all her strength to conquer her aversion to

the captain.

CHAPTER VIII.

A LEGAL FRIEND IN PARIS: MR. LLOYD.

The

PREPARATIONS were immediately made for leaving London.
captain seemed in the greatest haste to be off, and the waiting-maid
as usual appeared to second him with all her might. Whatever
doubts or fears might have still assailed the mind of Clara about the
change of abode, were driven thence by the bustle of departure, which
as the hour drew near increased, as customary on such occasions,
instead of diminishing.

The running to and fro of Jenner from Mrs. Fuller's room towards all parts of the house was a kind of perpetual motion, and it was a relief to Clara when she at last found herself in the midst of luggage and wrappings of every description on board the steamer which was to convey them from London to Calais, as Mrs. Fuller had made choice of that mode of transit to the coast opposite rather than the railway to Dover. As this was Clara's first voyage, everything connected with it was new to her, and had all the attractions of vivid first impressions. She nearly forgot she was leaving her native country, or what might happen to her in that to which she was bound. She had walked for an hour or two up and down the deck, inhaling the fresh and strengthening sea breeze, gazing at the great sea-birds, as they may be called, which with their white canvas wings, appeared on every side of the steamer as it careered over the waves; when having advanced somewhat further towards the centre of the boat than she had done yet, she suddenly met the gaze of the intruder on the balcony, peering from behind a huge pile of luggage. She looked round instinctively to see whether the captain was in her vicinity, but failed to discover

him, and when she again turned towards the luggage, the unwelcome stranger had disappeared. The sight of this man recalled to her many disagreeable thoughts, which for a time sadly interfered with her enjoyment of the novel scenes about her. But the hurry of landing, the change again to travelling by rail, and the various small distractions incidental thereto, forced her once more into cheerfulness, and it was with a sense of scarcely alloyed pleasure that she found herself in Paris.

The day after their arrival there, although it might have been supposed from her weak state of health, that Mrs. Fuller would be unable so soon after her journey to undertake the exertion, she apprized Miss Unwin that she was going to the Church of St. Roch, and wished her to accompany her.

"To see it?" asked Clara.

"No," replied the other, "perhaps to attend the service; do you hesitate?" she added in a slightly offended tone.

"By no means," answered the young girl, though as a good Protestant, she had some scruple, and wondered why Mrs. Fuller, professing the same form of faith, should thus resort for worship to another church than her own. It was a fresh inconsistency, but as the countenance of her companion brightened up at her acquiescence' she was glad she had made no opposition, and they drove off together,

When they entered, it being a week day, the edifice was almost empty, with only here and there a few kneeling figures in the side chapels, who seemed absorbed in their prayers or meditations, and ⚫ who could have been brought thither by no other feeling than that of devotion. There was no ceremony to assist at, no fashionable multitude to mingle with, to see or be seen could not have entered as motives into the minds of these solitary and apparently earnest worshippers. Can we not pray as well in our own rooms as in a church? is a question often asked. Is God not everywhere? Yes, doubtless we may be as devout with our knees on velvet carpets, our elbows indented on satin, and our hands resting on eider down, as when prostrate on the stone pavement of a Cathedral. Nevertheless, so

long as there exist places consecrated and set apart for holy purposes, many will always prefer the places thus hallowed to those used for the common purposes of life; and we think, rightly. There is surely something in the feeling that we there breathe an atmosphere made sacred by devout aspirations, by bitter tears of repentance, by the agony of grief, or the rejoicing of thanksgiving of God's servants and children. When the air of the temple seems laden with spiritual blessings, its majestic pillars wreathed round with pious thoughts, its altar encompassed with the incense of adoration, and when the calmress and repose prevading the whole, silently yet powerfully influences the seeker after heavenly gifts. For those who are insensible to this influence, who feel no difference betwixt their own private apartments and edifices dedicated to the Supreme Being, who see nothing in a church, except what strikes the outward senses, home devotions may be equally satisfactory. Yet such persons suffer a loss, as the experience of man in all ages testifies, even though it may be granted that the pomp and ceremony of the Romish ritual are unnecessary; or that while taking the senses captive, it leaves the spirit untouched. When amidst its high solemnities, that Church shines in all its magnificence, that so far from impressing with a sense of solemnity, it almost makes the spectator feel as if in some heathen temple of old, or he were the witness of the Jewish ceremonial, when the high-priest nearly blinded the people by the flashing of his jewelled vestments. Then, perhaps, we may be neither awed or rendered more devout; its real * hour of influence being, when in some vast cathedral, that a few solitary worshipers weep or pray in silence, and some dim lamp glimmers in the gloom suspended before the altar, when some high born dame kneels humbly by the side of an old beggar, or a woman with a child in her arms of the lowest class. Then may come visions of the martyrs who bled for that Church, and the saints who endured for it; of the rich who for its sake became poor, the proud who became lowly; and when are remembered no longer its arrogance and assumption, its haughty prelates, and unchanging love of universal power.

While Clara sat by the side of Mrs. Fuller, pondering somewhat in

this way, she observed her companion anxiously watch a small sidedoor which communicated with some inner portion of the edifice, for what purpose, however, she could not divine. At length this door opened, and an aged ecclesiastic came forth, whose dark bronzed countenance seemed rather Oriental than French, made his way towards one of the confessionals near them, and disappeared within its recess. Mrs. Fuller, whispering to Clara to await her return, now hastily left her side, and following the steps of the priest, entered another division of his retreat, one of the two placed on each hand fer the use of penitents. For upwards of half an hour Clara waited, marvelling what new whim had seized upon Mrs. Fuller, or what better errand she had there. At lenght she made her appearance again; there were traces of tears upon her countenance, but otherwise she seemed collected enough. Beckoning to her companion to rise, she led the way towards the entrance, and descending the broad stairs in silence, they began to retrace the road back to their residence. Mrs. Fuller made not the slightest allusion to her interview with the old priest, and as usual, Clara was left to conjectures.

For a short time after this, Captain Fuller appeared to be better satisfied; apparently he had his wishes gratified by coming to Paris, and so far as external appearances went, he sought to obliterate the remembrance of what was disagreeable, and even to atone for it by a little attention and courtesy. His wife, too, seemed to become more cheerful; even upon her the bright sky and lively manners of the people around her appeared to have a salutary effect; while with Clara the time flew rapidly past with a considerable share of happiness. The face of the waiting-maid alone reminded her now and then that all this calm might be only the precursor of a tempest; upon its usual acerbity there was no improvement, or, so far as Clara could judge, was there any relaxation in her watchfulness of her mistress.

One day the captain when alone with Miss Unwin, asked her in a business like sort of manner, though as if the request admitted of no denial, for the packet in her possession entrusted to her by his wife. How came he to know or it? was the first thought of Clara at this un