apparent inequality, and some do seem destined to success, while others appear doomed never to rise above the pressure of their difficulties. And yet I am myself inclined to think that things are, after all, less unequal than they appear to us to be."

Both were silent for some minutes after this. The silence was interrupted by Mrs. Leslie.

"Mr. Stourton," she said, "I am going to say what I am much afraid may seem almost impertinent; but do you know I am very much tempted to take an old woman's privilege, and ask you if I am wrong in fancying that you are just now in some kind of trouble yourself. I fancied again to-night, as I have once or twice before, that I saw in your face an expression that told of sorrow. Perhaps you are feeling the loneliness of your position in this great town. Will you let me say that if you have any trial which would be lighter to bear if you could talk it over with a friend, I should be so happy to be considered in that light, and thus to be of any sort of use or comfort to you?"

He looked in some surprise into the kindly face of the speaker, always so full of sympathy and benevolence. Then, after a moment or two, he said in a voice that was just in the least bit husky,

"It is extremely kind of you to speak to me in this way. I am exceedingly obliged. I had no idea," he continued with a smile, “that I had betrayed myself. I suppose some letters from home which I got to-night affected me more than

I was aware they had done, but I have no right to intrude my troubles upon others. I feel as if I ought to beg your pardon for bringing you such a afraid I must have

melancholy guest as I am appeared to-night."

"If you answer me in that

way

I shall repent of

my words," said Mrs. Leslie. "I am very sorry to hear you speak of bad news from home. I hope it is not illness that is causing your distress?"

"Yes; illness is at this moment the chief cause of our troubles. My father, I am sorry to say, is ailing more than usual. He is never well at the best of times, but he has been very unwell this week."

"I am sorry to hear it, indeed; and your mother, I think you told me, is not very strong?"

"Oh, no, she is far from it. Family troubles and difficulties have tried her, and I fear she misses my eldest sister a good deal. My sister has taken a step for which I greatly honour her, but which disturbs me exceedingly, and my mother feels her absence very much, I am sure."

"What can this step have been?" thought Mrs. Leslie. But William had heard the house door open and shut, and he turned to the table and took up a book of photographs which lay there, just as Mr. Leslie entered the drawing-room, so no more was said upon the subject of his supposed troubles that evening.

CHAPTER IX.

"They pray and they work: they do their parts
With patient faith and unswerving hearts."

F. A. T.

ILLIAM received very little more in the way of salary than Margaret did, and he had to provide every thing for himself. His great dislike to her becoming a governess had made him long excessively for the power of assisting his family, which however was at present impossible. Sometimes a doubt would cross his mind as to whether it would not have been more right to have adopted some other profession, by which he could have earned more than he now could as a curate. But his choice had been one that gave great satisfaction to his family, and to none of them more than to Margaret herself. Hearing from her how thoroughly interested she was in her work, and how really happy she was, made him begin to feel somewhat more reconciled to the step she had taken. "We are both working in a good cause," she said, in one of her letters. "Why should you not rejoice for me as I do for you, that we have this happiness? You must not fret about me; you must not, indeed.”

Margaret got on very successfully with Maude and Fanny, but Oliver gave her some trouble at times. He was so very careless, and forgetful of good manners. He would bring his dogs and himself, covered with mud, into the school-room, omit to wash his hands before tea, and commit various other small sins of omission and commission which it did not do to overlook. Then, when remonstrated with, he would get cross, knock over any thing that came in his way, or sit sulkily kicking his heels against the side of the window-seat. But he was really fond of Margaret, and felt grateful, though he did not always appear so, for the kind interest she showed in his pursuits and fancies. She noticed his moods as little as possible, and they seldom lasted long. Sometimes she was obliged to show actual displeasure. It happened one day, for instance, that contrary to her express orders he led his dog up stairs, saying it was hurt, and must lie on the hearth-rug. She was much annoyed at his venturing without asking leave to do such a thing. She had left the room for a short time, and on returning she found the dog lying before the fire.

"If you had brought him here, and had then come and asked my permission to keep him on the rug, it would have made a difference; though that, even, would not have been right after what I said to you last week; but you know this is real disobedience. As it is, I must have him taken away. He will be quite as comfortable in the house

keeper's room, but of course you must not stay there with him."

"You don't feel for him a bit!" exclaimed Oliver. "You won't believe he is hurt, because you are so cruel!" and he burst into passionate

tears.

Margaret resumed her book, for she saw the disappointment he felt was so great that he was scarcely master of himself; afterwards, however, she had a talk with him which he did not soon forget. Once after an occasion of this kind, when he had been very rude and perverse, she spoke to him seriously, and said she must forbid his spending the afternoon with Will Shirley, and she sent him very early to bed. Three days after he brought her a present from Bruton, not in itself very valuable, but extremely so to Margaret, as proving how perfectly he forgave her for having punished him, and that he felt she had been entirely right in doing so.

On returning from a walk one afternoon, they were all delighted to find Lady Harriett Colvin had arrived. She had been about an hour in the house, and was sitting in the school-room; but Mrs. Baillie was making active preparations for her reception in the little library, not having been able to prevail on her to have either of the drawingrooms unhollanded for her. Mr. Colvin's state had prevented Lady Harriett from leaving home sooner; now, however, that he was better again, she had come to stay two nights at Northcourt. Lady

G