ted heart.
But she was aware how differently her mother would feel on the subject,
as she never alluded to her husband's family but with indignation or
contempt; and she therefore resolved to be silent with regard to Aunt
Grizzy's prospects for the present.

CHAPTER XVI.

". . . . As in apothecaries' shops all sorts of drugs are permitted to
be, so may all sorts of books be in the library; and as they out of
vipers, and scorpions, and poisonous vegetables extract often wholesome
medicaments for the life of mankind, so out of whatsoever book good
instruction and examples may be acquired."--DRUMMOND _of Hawthornden._

MARY's thoughts had often reverted to Rose Hall since the day she had
last quitted it, and she longed to fulfil her promise to her venerable
friend; but a feeling of delicacy, unknown to herself, withheld her.
"She will not miss me while she has her son with her," said she to
herself; but in reality she dreaded her cousin's raillery should she
continue to visit there as frequently as before. At length a favourable
opportunity occurred. Lady Emily, with great exultation, told her the
Duke of Altamont was to dine at Beech Park the following day, but that
she was to conceal it from Lady Juliana and Adelaide; "for assuredly,"
said she, "if they were apprised of it, they would send you up to the
nursery as a naughty girl, or perhaps down to the scullery, and make a
Cinderella of you. Depend upon it you would not get leave to show your
face in the drawing-room."

"Do you really think so?" asked Mary.

"I know it. I know Lady Juliana would torment you till she had set you a
crying; and then she would tell you you had made yourself such a fright
that you were not fit to be seen, and so order you to your own room. You
know very well it would not be the first time that such a thing has
happened."

Mary could not deny the fact; but, sick of idle altercation, she
resolved to say nothing, but walk over to Rose Hall the following
morning. And this she did, leaving a note for her cousin, apologising
for her flight.

She was received with rapture by Mrs. Lennox.

"Ah! my dear Mary," said she, as she tenderly embraced her, "you know
not, you cannot conceive, what a blank your absence makes in my life!
When you open your eyes in the morning, it is to see the light of day
and the faces you love, and all is brightness around you. But when I
wake it is still to darkness. My night knows no end. 'Tis only when I
l