o as something better than a misty uncertainty at the
end of a vista of years.

Everett must go into the Church. That was, in fact, the profession most
suited to him, and which most naturally offered itself for his
acceptance. His education, his tastes, his habits, all suited him for
such a career. By a happy coincidence, too, it was one in which Lady
Beauchamp could most importantly assist him through her connections. Her
eldest son, the young baronet, had preferment in his own gift, which was
to say, in hers; and not only this, but her sister's husband, the uncle
of Rosa, was a bishop, and one over whom she, Lady Beauchamp, had some
influence. Once in orders, Everett's prosperity was assured. The present
incumbent of Hollingsley was aged; by the time Everett was eligible, he
might, in all probability, be inducted into that living, and Rosa might
then become his wife. Five hundred a year, beside Miss Beauchamp's
dowry, with such shining prospects of preferment to look forward to, was
not an unwise commencement; for Rosa was no mere fine lady, the proud
mother said,--she was sensible and prudent; she would adapt herself to
circumstances. And though, of course, it was not such an establishment
as she well might expect for her daughter, still, since the young people
loved one another, and thought they could be happy under these reduced
circumstances, she would not be too exacting. And Lady Beauchamp at last
paused, and looked in Everett's face for some manifestation of his joy.

Well,--of his gratitude there could be no question. The tears stood in
his earnest eyes, as he took Lady Beauchamp's hand and thanked
her,--thanked her again and again.

"There, there, you foolish boy! I don't want thanks," cried she,
coloring with pleasure though, as she spoke. "My only wish is to see you
two children happy. I _am_ fond of you, Everett; I shall like to see you
my son," she said. "I have tried to smooth the way for you, as far as I
can, over the many difficulties that obstruct it; and I fancy I have
succeeded. What do you say to my plan? When can you be ordained?"

Everett sighed, as he released her hand, and looked at her face, now
flushed with generous, kindly warmth. Well he knew the bitter change
that would come over that face,--the passion of disappointment and
displeasure which would follow his answer to that question.

He could never enter the Church. Sorrowfully, but firmly, he said
it,--with that calm, steady voice an