othing of lovers.'

'Because I know so much?'

'You know feminine nature I want to know what is the best thing to
do for Laura. Poor thing! I can't bear to see her look so wretched,
worrying herself with care of me. I have done the best I could by taking
Charlotte's lessons, and sending her out to mope alone, as she likes
best; but I wish you would tell me how to manage her.'

'I know nothing better for her than waiting on you.'

'That's hard,' said Charles, 'that having made the world dance
attendance on me for my pleasure, I must now do it for theirs. But
what do you think about telling her of this letter, or showing it,
remembering that not a word about her troubles has passed between us?'

'By all means tell her. You must judge about showing it, but I should
think the opening for talking to her on the subject a great gain.'

'Should you? What, thinking as I do of the man? Should I not be between
the horns of a dilemma if I had to speak the honest truth, yet not hurt
her feelings?'

'She has been so long shut up from sympathy, that any proof of kindness
must be a comfort.'

'Well, I should like to do her some good, but it will be a mercy, if she
does not make me fall foul of Philip! I can get up a little Christian
charity, when my father or Charlotte rave at him, but I can't stand
hearing him praised. I take the opportunity of saying so while I can,
for I expect he will come home as her betrothed, and then we shall not
be able to say one word.'

'No, I dare say he will be so altered and subdued that you will not be
so disposed to rail. This confession is a grand thing. Good-bye I must
get back to church. Poor Laura! how busy she has been about her sketch
there lately.'

'Yes, she has been eager about finishing it ever since Guy began to be
ill. Good-bye. Wish me well through my part of confidant to-night. It
is much against the grain, though I would give something to cheer up my
poor sister.'

'I am sure you would,' thought Mary to herself, as she looked back at
him: 'what a quantity of kind, right feeling there in under that odd,
dry manner, that strives to appear to love nothing but a joke.'

As soon as Charlotte was gone to bed, Charles, in accordance with his
determination, said to Laura,--

'Have you any fancy for seeing Amy's letter?'

'Thank you;' and, without speaking, Laura took it. He forbore to watch
her expression as she read. When she had finished, her face was fixed in
silent unhappine