idea of the lesson she meant her warning to teach, and she would have been somewhat surprised and shocked if any one could have written out Caroline's conclusions from it in black and white, and shown them to her. "She told it me for a warning," Caroline said to herself; "she means that I am not to trust to anyone's professions of love, not even to her dear William's, whom she thinks so perfect, and that if I wish to be happy I had better not allow myself to care too much about anyone. Well, I won't; I was beginning to think the same myself. Love is a very uncertain thing, it comes and goes, one never knows about it; but there are things that one may be quite sure of, money for instance. If I were to marry a very rich man now, how nice it would be, how it would take them all by surprise; no one would have occasion to tell me warning stories then. If he has been telling his aunt to speak to me, he would be convinced that I am not a person to be taken up and let down at anyone's pleasure. quence if I were rich. 66 I should be of conse Heigho!" My dear," said Miss Belinda, rousing herself with a feeling of self-reproach as she heard Caroline's sigh, "let us talk of other things." They tried, but it was rather a poor attempt at conversation; they were neither of them much practiced in self-control. Miss Belinda could not get up anything like her usual interest in the every-day gossip of the Brandon family, or in the success of Caroline's collection for the Sunday schools. She would have reverted to the old topic of talk about William again, and probably in spite of her sister's remonstrance, Caroline would have heard every word of the letter, if the entrance of another visitor had not broken up the conference just in time to save her consistency. Caroline remembered suddenly that she had another visit to pay that morning, and took a hasty and not very cordial leave of her friend. She felt as she left the room that she should never go there with quite the same feeling, or quite the same pleasure again. Miss Belinda sighed as the door closed after Caroline-she took up the letter remorsefully, and laid it aside in the case where she kept all the letters her nephew had ever written to her. Perhaps, she thought, to comfort herself, now that I have told her all this and put her quite on her guard, I may read the letter and give her the message some day. The some day was a long time in coming, and a great many unlooked-for things had happened in the mean time. The poor little letter lay long in its case, and got to look very faded and yellow before it was allowed to see the light again. If Caroline had stayed a little longer, if the visitor had not come in, or if Miss Ash had not expressed herself so energetically at breakfast, it and some of the people it concerned might have had quite a different fate. 298 CHAPTER XI. “For we walk blind-fold—a minute may be ruin, TUPPER. CAROLINE'S mortifications and vanity-wounds were not to come to an end when she left the Miss Ashes' house; there seemed to be a conspiracy against her that morning. She had to wait a long time alone in Mrs. Warren's handsome morning-room, and when at last the lady of the house entered, she came, (dressed in oh! such a beautiful spring bonnet and exquisite fresh shawl), but wearing an air of haste and pre-occupation, and not showing by any means the same pleasure at the sight of Caroline that she had been accus |