e" from the novels got in a library, taking their
high-flown contents for gospel, and religiously believing that lords
and ladies live upon stilts, speak, eat, move, breathe, by the rules of
good-breeding only? Are you under the delusion--too many are--that the
days of dukes and duchesses are spent discussing "pictures, tastes,
Shakespeare, and the musical glasses?"--that they are strung on polite
wires of silver, and can't get off the hinges, never giving vent to
angry tempers, to words unorthodox, as commonplace mortals do? That will
come to pass when the Great Creator shall see fit to send men into the
world free from baneful tempers, evil passions, from the sins bequeathed
from the fall of Adam.

Lady Mount Severn finished up the scene by boxing William for his noise,
jerked him out of the room, and told him he was a monkey.

Isabel Vane lived through the livelong night, weeping tears of anguish
and indignation. She would not remain at Castle Marling--who would,
after so great an outrage? Yet where was she to go? Fifty times in the
course of the night did she wish that she was laid beside her father,
for her feelings obtained the mastery of her reason; in her calm moments
she would have shrunk from the idea of death as the young and healthy
must do.

She rose on the Saturday morning weak and languid, the effects of the
night of grief, and Marvel brought her breakfast up. William Vane stole
into her room afterward; he was attached to her in a remarkable degree.

"Mamma's going out," he exclaimed, in the course of the morning. "Look,
Isabel."

Isabel went to the window. Lady Mount Severn was in the pony carriage,
Francis Levison driving.

"We can go down now, Isabel, nobody will be there."

She assented, and went down with William; but scarcely were they in the
drawing-room when a servant entered with a card on a salver.

"A gentleman, my lady, wishes to see you."

"To see me!" returned Isabel, in surprise, "or Lady Mount Severn?"

"He asked for you, my lady."

She took up the card. "Mr. Carlyle." "Oh!" she uttered, in a tone of
joyful surprise, "show him in."

It is curious, nay, appalling, to trace the thread in a human life;
how the most trivial occurrences lead to the great events of existence,
bringing forth happiness or misery, weal or woe. A client of Mr.
Carlyle's, travelling from one part of England to the other, was
arrested by illness at Castle Marling--grave illness, it appeared to
be, induc