"Not she, I'll answer for that," warmly replied the first speaker. "Run, Millicent!" said he, turning to his sister, and tell the little girls and Isabel that the coach is near; "we must hasten to the gate, we hear the wheels so plainly, they must be beyond the toll-bar." "Edith! Ethel! Isabel! the coach is in sight! Emily will be home in one minute," called Millicent. Downstairs rushed the two little girls,-pretty children. of seven and eight years of age. "Where is Isabel ?" enquired Harry. "Oh! she has not returned from the school; she left us to learn our lessons, while she was away; but she said she would be back again before Emily arrived," replied Ethel. "How tiresome of Isabel," said George: "we had arranged to be at the gate to meet her." "There is Emmy! I see her hat. She is now waving her handkerchief." The coach stopped. "Nów, Emmy, do not leap down upon us, wait till papa comes round to help you," cried Harry. "Why, George, how you are grown! he has overtaken you Harry; and you dear little pets, still the turtle doves," said Emmy, at the same time stooping to kiss the two little girls. "Now, I must go to mamma;" and with one bound she was across the hall, and locked in her mother's arms. Mrs. Marsden was frequently an invalid, often for weeks together being confined to the sofa-she was lying there when Emily entered. "Now, where is Isabel? Ah! there she is coming up the path. Harry, open the window, and let her in through it," said Mrs. Marsden. 66 'Well, Miss Isabel! why were you not at home to receive your sister?" said Harry, opening the window. "I really have come up the hill post-haste," replied Isabel, a plain short girl of one-and-twenty, as she stepped into the room, at the same time, taking off her hat, saying, "I am very sorry, Emmy, not to have been at home to welcome you back again, we are so very glad to have you home." "And so am I to be here," answered Emily. Home! sweet home.' I have been wearying some of my schoolfellows with the air." How did you leave your friend Annie de Vere?" said Mrs. Marsden; "but stay, before we talk of her, go and take off your things, and we will have tea." Later on in the evening Mrs. Marsden repeated the question respecting Annie de Vere, and enquired if there was any probability of the de Vere family coming again to Langleigh Hall. Emily replied, that "it was very uncertain whether they did so, but that the previous evening Annie had remarked that her grandmamma had seldom enjoyed such good health as during the winter she had passed at Westcombe; and, therefore, she hoped she might be induced to come there another season. "Annie," remarked Mrs. Marsden, "was a very nice child. I do not know any girl to whom I ever took a greater fancy. She was always so warm-hearted and affectionate." "And," added Mr. Marsden, "a very enthusiastic young lady, with plenty of energy; and her's is a disposition that, if wisely directed, will make a useful member of society. I trust her friends are judicious people. Her brother, if I recollect rightly, is her senior-is he not? "Yes," replied Emily, "he is six years older; he is at Oxford; Annie thinks a great deal of him, in fact they are everything to each other. He used to write to her such long letters every week." "How good of him!" said Mrs. Marsden, "I do like to hear of brothers being kind to their sisters." 66 Well, he is fond of Annie, no one can help loving her," and Emmy sighed as she recollected the parting scene of the morning, which, being once more in the midst of her own affectionate family, was well-nigh obliterated. CHAPTER II. "The world is still deceived with ornament in religion. What damn'd error; but some sober brow Shakespeare. "SMOKE! dust! mist! we are drawing near the town," exclaimed Annie de Vere, to her brother Arthur. "Farewell! green fields, and blue sky. Let us collect our things, we shall be at the station directly." "So be it," replied Sir Arthur, as he slowly removed his travelling cap, replaced a fashionable low-crowned hat, and proceeded to fold up the Times' newspaper that he had been perusing. Really, Annie," said he, "what a number of etceteras young ladies do carry about with them; dressing-case, satchel, cloak, parasol, umbrella, and boxes innumerable. It is well I came to look after you." "Now, Arthur, you need not speak as if you were a martyr ; I know you were very pleased to come for me. Here we are! There is the carriage!" The young people were speedily driven to Lady de Vere's house in Cambridge-square. The evening was warm and sultry. The houses looked gloomy, here and there some of their balconies were artistically arranged with plants, that seemed to mock the eye of the passer-by, as they recalled the distant country now radiant with these bright gems: "Nature's jewels with whose wealth She decks her summer beauty." The square gardens looked parched and dry, the roses that bloomed there were poor miserable one-sided flowers, the grass was withered, the green foliage of the trees drooped and seared, though it was only the middle of June. But, though the outside world languished, within Lady de Vere's house there was everything that could charm the most fastidious. All that wealth, refined taste, luxuriant fancy could suggest here met the eye. This was to be Annie's future home. Sir Arthur de Vere was a very different character to his sister, strong-willed and decided. He was a member of the English Church Union, and an enthusiast on the subject of the reunion of Christendom. At this time it formed the chief topic of his conversation, the one aim he had in view. Men stimulated with this desire were constantly at the house. Books on this subject he was continually studying. 1 Latterly he had persuaded Lady de Vere to accompany him to a church near their residence, where a friend of his, the Rev. Dr. Burlton, was the clergyman; and the Rev. Henry Silverton, the curate, had been one of his college acquaintances. Lady de Vere was at once delighted with the full choral services at St. Hilda's; the music was splendid, and as the sermon never exceeded fifteen minutes in length, she did not feel over-fatigued. At St. Hilda's church it was the custom for the congregation to be divided; the men to be seated on one side of the building, the women on the opposite. This at first disturbed the old lady, she did not like being separated from her grandson. However, Sir Arthur soon pacified her, by assuring her it was quite the correct arrangement. He told her that the men and women sat apart according to a custom derived from the ancients, the men on the southern, the women on the northern side, as Durandus says, to signify that the saints, most advanced in holiness should stand against the greater temptations of the world, and they that be less advanced, against the least. He also drew Lady de Vere's attention to the admirable manner in which the services at St. Hilda's were conducted. There stood the priest at the altar ready to offer the sacrifice, the choir on each side of the chancel representing the angels and spirits of just men made perfect, while they cheerfully and mutually excite one another in the holy exercise of prayer and praise. Then the great body of the worshippers assisting with heart and voice in the praises of the house of God. To this the old lady had replied, "Well, Arthur, I do not understand much about these matters. These are |