"It is called S. Nicholas. The village close by goes by the same name."

"You were at Canterbury last spring, you said, Miss Kynaston. How you must have enjoyed seeing the glorious Cathedral!"

"Oh! yes, I did immensely; but I was only there for two days, and as I was staying with some friends who of course knew it quite well, and didn't care for going over it, I only saw the outside, but I believe the inside is very well worth seeing.'

66

'Only two days," repeated Evelyn, "I fancied you had been there longer."

"No, to tell you the truth it was my first season in town, and Canterbury is such a quiet, dull, old city, that I could not spare more than two days for it. We went down one Wednesday morning, and we had been offered a box at the opera Thursday evening, to hear 'Le Prophete,' so I insisted on returning Thursday afternoon, because I would not have missed 'Le Prophete,' for worlds you know. So you see it was scarcely two days."

66 No, I see. Did you go to Exeter Hall while you were in town ?" asked Evelyn, thinking she had touched a safe subject at last.

'Yes, once, but I didn't enjoy it much. I like the Operas much better. An aunt of mine has a box at Her Majesty's, and as she was out of town, we had it as often as we liked. We went nine times altogether, which I think was pretty well in six weeks, considering we went to a great many public and private balls, and dinner parties, and concerts, besides."

"Very well indeed, I think," remarked Mary. "Very bad, I think," added Evelyn mentally. "We heard all the best vocal performers," continued Harriet; "Grisi and Mario, Alboni, and the Cruvellis, and Jenny Lind once, besides many

others, whose names I forget. Papa took a box at Covent Garden twice for us when we were tired of Her Majesty's."

Evelyn rose in despair and retired to her own room, where she could read the " Christian Year" for the rest of the afternoon, without the fear of interruption.

Ir was the evening of the ball. The carriage wa ordered to be at the door at half-past ten o'clock for Mrs. Falconer had an objection to punctuality in such cases. At half-past eight Augusta and Mary went to their rooms, to begin their toilet Evelyn also went to hers, but thinking it rather early to begin, sat down by the fire, and was soon lost in thought.

How very different was Everley from Redbourn. This was the chief subject of her reverie. But was it a desirable difference? An expression of sad thoughtfulness stole over her face; she could not answer, yes, and she did not like to answer, no. It was pleasanter in some respects; in the first place it was 66 home," and that word contained volumes to Evelyn's heart, and then it was far more agreeable to spend the mornings in working and talking, than to be preparing a French lesson for Mademoiselle, or reading pages of dull history, to be questioned upon them by Miss Templeman. It was pleasanter also to sing for the amusement of her mother and sisters, than to practise for her music

master's approval, and Miss Templeman's moderate praise. And then her position! formerly she had been merely one of a number of young ladies, unknown individually, and only generally classed under the title of Miss Templeman's school. Now, she was one of the Miss Falconers of Everley, admired, envied, sought by all. Then the very room in which she sat, with its two lofty windows, and their bright chintz curtains, the Brussels carpet, the elegant bed with its pink and white hangings, the comfortable couch, the toilet table with its tall glass, and vases and bottles on each side, and the bright, blazing fire,-how different from her tiny bedroom at Redbourn, with its scanty strips of Kidderminster carpet, and its one window with the bare white blind, the cane chairs, and the tiny, comfortless fire in the little grate. Evelyn was peculiarly independent of external comforts, but she could not help being struck by the contrast. Yet even then no answer to the question that had suggested itself to her mind, rose to her lips. She could not say that the difference between the two places was a desirable one, although the one was so severe and simple, and the other replete with all the elegancies and luxuries of life. Was it not a dangerous difference? If Everley was pleasanter and more agreeable to her than Redbourn in a worldly sense, which was the best for her in a higher and ar more important one? Evelyn did not pause for an answer; she could not blind herself to the fact that all that affected our best and highest interests, and all that was of the most vital importance to our happiness hereafter, was totally unheeded and unthought of at Everley. The thought filled her with distress, and gave her a feeling of fear and insecurity; a feeling such as a child might have, when seated for the first time on horseback, forced to ride over a rugged, uneven

road, and not quite sure whether it knows how to use the reins properly. The reins were in Evelyn's hand, but there was no one to direct her how to use them, and no one to stand at her horse's head, to watch that it made no false step. No one, did I say? Yes, there was One, and to Him Evelyn knelt, silently and earnestly, and before she rose, the feeling of insecurity had passed away, and she no longer felt any fear.

How much she would feel the loss of Georgina, and the want of her ever-ready affection and sympathy, she never could have imagined until taught by sad experience. She could not hope ever to find the same friend in Mary and Augusta, that she had lost in Georgina: not wholly lost, it was true, yet lost for a time, for letters were a poor compensation for her presence. In the middle of a longdrawn sigh, she was startled by a voice at the door, "Evelyn! are you ready?"

She turned round quickly, and found Mary with a blue mantle thrown round her shoulders stand

ing just behind her! Oh! Mary dear, are you

dressed ?"

"No, not quite; but my dear child, how absurd to be sitting here when you ought to be dressing. What would Augusta say? Do be quick.'

"I shall not be long," said Evelyn, rising. "Will you send Hunter in ten minutes to fasten my dress ?"

Mary left the room, and Evelyn commenced her toilet. She twisted her long bright hair tastefully round her head, and fastened in it the elegant spray of clematis that had been purchased for her like her sisters'. When the tulle dress was fastened, with its white bows and sprays of clematis looping up the sides, and when Hunter had clasped the gold enamelled bracelets on the small, round, white arms, and placed the tiny diamond necklet round the