ly and bluntness
will often offend your ears, unless you carry in your soul some talisman
to counteract their effect."

"I understand," said she, "I know what you mean. I will remember that
the most engaging beauty is nothing without a pure mind and a good
heart."

"And you will remember too," continued he, "that I blessed your innocent
head to-night, not because it is circled by the roses of a youthful and
fresh loveliness, but because of the pure mind and good heart I see
shining in your eyes." And with a fond but solemn aspect he reached out
his hand and laid it on her ebon locks.

She bowed her head upon her breast. "I will never forget," said she, and
the fire-light fell with a softening glow on the tears that trembled
from her eye-lashes.

XIII.

THE END OF MY LADY'S PICTURE.

"Heaven from all creatures tides the book of Fate."--POPE.

Mrs. Sylvester was spending an evening at home. This was something so
unusual for this august lady of fashion to indulge in, that she found it
difficult not to fall asleep in the huge crimson-backed chair in which
she had chosen to ensconce herself. Not that she had desisted from
making every effort known to mortal woman to keep herself awake and if
possible amused till the expected travellers should arrive. She had
played with her bird till the spoiled pet had himself protested, ducking
his head under his wing and proceeding without ceremony to make up his
little feather bed, as cunning Geraldine used to call the round, fluffy
ball into which he rolled himself at night. More than that, she had
looked over her ornaments and taken out such articles as she thought
could be spared for Paula, to say nothing of playing a bar or so from
the last operatic sensation, and laboriously cutting open the leaves of
the new magazine. But it was all of no use, and the heavy white lids
were slowly falling, when the bell rang and Mr. Bertram Mandeville was
announced, or rather Bertram Sylvester as he now chose to be called.

It was a godsend to her as she politely informed him upon his entrance;
and though in his secret heart he felt anything but God sent--he was not
of a make to appreciate his uncle's wife at her very evident value--he
consented to remain and assist her in disposing of the evening till Mr.
Sylvester should return.

"He is going to bring a pretty girl with him," remarked she, in a tone
of some interest, "a cousin of mine from Grotewell. I should like to
have