felt an increasing difficulty in meeting the daily expenses, and paying off what they already owed. The doctor had told Mrs. Stourton that he feared worry of mind from some cause or other (easily guessed at by her) was in no small degree the cause of her husband's failing health. Mrs. Asheton came to Teesdale, as she had promised, and she brought with her letters from Lady North and from Mrs. Lyndsey.

Both expressed themselves delighted with all she had told them of Margaret. Lady North wrote at considerable length, for there was little time for the passing and re-passing of letters, as she was extremely anxious to leave England at the beginning of the week after the next with her son, Sir Roger North, and his invalid sister.

Enclosed in her letter to Mrs. Asheton was one for Margaret, in which, after speaking of the high opinion she had of both Mr. and Mrs. Asheton as judges of character, capability, &c., she proceeded to promise that if Margaret consented to come to Northcourt, every thing should be arranged there in the way most likely to conduce to her comfort and happiness.

"Of course," Lady North added, "I do feel that it will be no small trial to one so young as you are, and one, too, who has hitherto been accustomed to live in a happy home circle, to come to such a very quiet place as this must necessarily be, while I am away. Excepting our Clergyman's family, (with whom we are very inti

C

mate,) we have few neighbours, but I hope one of my aunts will often be at Northcourt, which will break the monotony of your life a little. I hear you are naturally cheerful, and have good health and strength, and that will, I hope, be very much in favour of your keeping in good spirits; besides, I really think you will find my three children pleasant little companions. They are lively, and happy in disposition, and I feel a strong conviction that they will soon be fond of you."

This was not all the letter contained; indeed there was one other item of special importancewhich was, that Lady North offered Miss Stourton a hundred pounds a year.

A hundred pounds!

It seemed immense to Margaret, far beyond her deserts. But Mrs. Asheton assured her that under the circumstances it was not too much.

"You are to be left alone," she said, "you are to be in a dull place, you are to go all in a hurry ; why you want the thought of your enormous gains to keep up your courage! Lady North is most anxious to secure you, that is very evident, and she is perfectly aware that it would be useless to expect to do so, unless she made you an offer well worth your accepting."

CHAPTER IV.

"The voices of my home! I hear them still."

T was a rainy, misty morning when Margaret looked out of her window at seven

o'clock. Her luggage was all ready; Mr. Asheton would call for her in his carriage in less than half an hour: she was putting on her bonnet, for she thought she would complete every thing, so as to have that half-hour uninterrupted; but she felt little able, after all, to be quiet. If she sat down to talk she was perpetually on the point of bursting into a fit of crying. It was the same with the rest of the family: very difficult had it been to her parents to make up their minds to the step Margaret was now taking, but at length they had agreed that, as the opportunity presented itself unsought on their part, and as Margaret had so fully made up her own mind to take it, she should be allowed to do so. Still it must be with the understanding that, highly as they appreciated the motives which would induce her to bear with patience and cheerfulness much toil and hardness, they would not permit her to remain at Northcourt unless she found she could be happy there, and was always treated with kindness and consideration.

None of them knew how to bear the parting with composure. It was quite fortunate when, something having been forgotten, a little hurry and difficulty was the consequence, and somehow or other they became quite cheerful till the approaching sound of carriage wheels caught their ears: then there were no more words, for each felt a choking sensation in the throat. Mr. Asheton had been delayed, no time must be lost, or they would not catch the train. In two minutes more Margaret was driving down the village street. She could scarcely believe she was actually by her own consent leaving home, and going miles away into a new untried world.

Mr. Asheton, the kindest of friends, did not interrupt her grief. He spent some minutes in arranging the cloaks and other things which had been. put somewhat hastily into the carriage; and he took out his pocket-book to make some memoranda, and looked out of the window; then at last he said, "By-the-bye, Margaret, I've a note for you from my wife; here it is. The children sent you

heaps of loves, too."

Margaret took the note; she could have kissed it, it was so kind. Perhaps no one who has not been in a somewhat similar situation can understand the feeling of desolation which had crept over her, or which made that little note seem of priceless value in her eyes. But it was so full of feeling and sympathy, and yet so cheering, that it seemed to recall her hopes and courage, and before

she reached the station she had begun to question with herself whether she were not unreasonable to feel so very unhappy, and she determined that, on the contrary, she would at once begin to be as happy as she fully intended to be at Northcourt. She began imagining, for the twentieth time, the first evening there, the first meeting with the children, and the first attempts at teaching; but the thing she oftenest thought of, and that rather with dread, was her interview with Lady North.

It had been arranged that she should stay two or three days in London, at Mrs. Lyndsey's, where Lady North would see her.

The journey was satisfactorily over, and Margaret and Mr. Asheton were driving away from the Paddington station in Mrs. Lyndsey's comfortable carriage at half-past four. The lamps were being lighted, the evening was foggy, and Margaret did not see much of London on this her first night there. Her heart beat fast when the carriage drew up at Mrs. Lyndsey's door, and faster still as she entered the drawing-room. It was a very cold evening. A bright fire was burning in the low ample grate, but the room was rather dark, there being no other light than that which the fire gave. A lady came from the next room almost immediately, and shaking hands with Mr. Asheton, exclaimed, "What a miserable day you have had for your journey, Edward!" and then, as Mr. Asheton turned to present Margaret to her, she bowed, and