and feelings, and I have not meant a word of it unkindly."

"I am sure of that," said Mr. Lyttleton earnestly. "We will dismiss the subject now then, for look at poor Mary; how ennuied she seems at our interminable conversation."

"One moment!" he said quickly. "Supposing, only supposing I carried out your plans, in what way should the money be spent ?"

"Oh! there are a hundred ways," she said lightly. "Look at the Wortley schools! I believe they are in a deplorable state for want of funds; or you might erect some Almshouses for the poor old people at Wortley, they are sadly wanted; or you might build a Church for the district of Malstone, or repair our own Church, or increase the endowment, as it is very small."

"Yes, I see there are ways and means of doing good," he said carelessly, "if one only feels inclined to set about it; but doing good is not in my line, I am afraid, so there is no use in wasting our time in talking about it."

"Doing good might be in your line if you chose," said Evelyn gravely; "and you will have to bear the responsibility, whether you choose it or not."

They turned to join Mary, and Mr. Lyttleton wondered within himself what it was that made him like Evelyn better and better, the plainer and more unshrinkingly she spoke to him. He did not forget the conversation, although there was much that he did not quite like in it; but it seemed wrong and dangerous to blind his eyes to the truth of it, when Evelyn had evidently looked upon the responsibilities and duties she had held up to him, as of such vital import. He did not think himself the less certain of winning Evelyn's hand, in spite of all she had said, and the different opinions she held. "She will like to have it in her power to do

H

so much good," he said to himself; "and she will hope to exert an influence over me; oh! yes, I am quite safe."

He walked with them to their own gate, but refused Mary's invitation to enter. Evelyn flew to her own room to divest herself of the cloak and bonnet before Mrs. Falconer and Augusta should return, and when she sat down beside the fire and thought over the walk, she decided that she liked Mr. Lyttleton as little as ever.

CHAPTER VII.

"Live for to-day! to-morrow's light
To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight,
Go sleep like closing flowers at night,
And Heav'n thy morn will bless."-

Christian Year.

Now that Evelyn found she was less necessary to her sisters, and had more time in every way at her own disposal, she thought it would be a good opportunity for bringing forward her wish of being useful in the parish, and for asking permission to give up certain afternoons every week to teaching at the school and visiting the poor. She tried to prepare herself for many difficulties which she felt sure would stand between her and her object, and she determined to be satisfied if very little was conceded at first, and she said to herself that even a single afternoon in the week would be a beginning; and if she kept steadily to that, other concessions might follow. She resolved not to be vanquished by the first obstacle, and she thought her mother could not refuse altogether to permit her to do so slight a thing. The clothes were com pleted and made into a parcel and directed all ready to be despatched to Lynwood, but Evelyn deferred sending them, thinking that if Mrs. Falconer permitted her to carry out her plans, it would be pleasanter to give them away in Wortley herself,

and as no promise had been made to Georgina, she would not be disappointed.

Edgar Kynaston's leave of absence had drawn to a close, and he left them with many injunctions to have everything in readiness for June, and with the promise that he would if possible come down the middle of May, and that in the meantime he should be very busy choosing a house and furnishing it. Augusta seemed sorry to part with him, but her feelings did not at all overcome her, and she decided after he was gone, that it was better on the whole, as he took up so much of her time that she would never have been able to prepare her trousseau while he was there.

The morning after his departure, Mrs. Falconer, Augusta, and Evelyn, were working in the library, when the Vicar was mentioned, and Evelyn thought it a good opportunity for advancing her wishes.

"Mamma, do you know anything about the parish school at Wortley ?"

"No, my love; why do you ask?"

"I heard that it was in rather a poor condition," replied Evelyn; "and I was thinking, mamma, that if you did not object, I should very much like to offer to teach there sometimes."

"You, my dear! why should you do it ?"

Only because I think it is right, dear mamma, and perhaps no one else will."

"Is there no schoolmistress, my dear ?"

"Oh! yes, I suppose so; but then the children would get on better if they knew that some one else was interested in them; and a change of teachers is a good thing for them sometimes.'

"There is the Vicar and his wife, my dear."

"Yes, but they have all the rest of the parish to attend to as well, and a large family of their own, and I have so few duties."

"I should not like it at all, Evelyn."

"But if it were the means of doing them good you would not object, should you, dear mamma ?" "There are others that can do it instead of you, my dear, and your sisters have never done it, and therefore I should not wish you to begin it."

"But perhaps you would not mind my visiting some of the poor people in Wortley, mamma ?"

"I have the same objections to that, Evelyn. Your sisters have never done it, and I do not see why you should, and the poor have the Vicar to take care of them."

"But there are two thousand inhabitants in Wortley, mamma, and the Vicar cannot visit a quarter of them regularly."

"Then he should keep a curate, my dear."

"A curate, dear mamma! why his own income is only a hundred and twenty pounds a year, and he has eight children."

"He has private property of his own, my dear." "Yes, a little, but they are very poor, and they give away a great deal, I have heard. I hope you will let me visit a little, dear mamma, I only ask for one afternoon in the week."

"I cannot see why it is your place, any more than any other person's in the parish, Evelyn." "No, not more, but quite as much; and if they neglect their duty, that is no reason why I should neglect mine, is it, dear mamma ?"

"I do not see any duty at all in the case, my dear, and I shall not think of letting you go into those dirty cottages and catch all sorts of horrible disorders, so you must not think of it, my love."

Evelyn said no more, although she was sad and disheartened, and felt as if she might have put things in a more forcible way. There seemed no chance for her now; she would be obliged to go on in the same fashionable routine as her sisters, perhaps all her life. How dreary the future looked, with a