y sad and tender.

But, good as she was to us and to all, Ethel Newcome was the French
lady's greatest favourite. A bond of extreme tenderness and affection
united these two. The elder friend made constant visits to the younger
at Newcome; and when Miss Newcome, as she frequently did, came to
Rosebury, we used to see that they preferred to be alone; divining
and respecting the sympathy which brought those two faithful hearts
together. I can imagine now the two tall forms slowly pacing the garden
walks, or turning, as they lighted on the young ones in their play. What
was their talk! I never asked it. Perhaps Ethel never said what was in
her heart, though, be sure, the other knew it. Though the grief of those
they love is untold, women hear it; as they soothe it with unspoken
consolations. To see the elder lady embrace her friend as they parted
was something holy--a sort of saintlike salutation.

Consulting the person from whom I had no secrets, we had thought best at
first not to mention to our friends the place and position in which we
had found our dear Colonel; at least to wait for a fitting opportunity
on which we might break the news to those who held him in such
affection. I told how Clive was hard at work, and hoped the best for
him. Good-natured Madame de Moncontour was easily satisfied with my
replies to her questions concerning our friend. Ethel only asked if he
and her uncle were well, and once or twice made inquiries respecting
Rosa and her child. And now it was that my wife told me, what I need no
longer keep secret, of Ethel's extreme anxiety to serve her distressed
relatives, and how she, Laura, had already acted as Miss Newcome's
almoner in furnishing and hiring those apartments, which Ethel believed
were occupied by Clive and his father, and wife and child. And my wife
further informed me with what deep grief Ethel had heard of her uncle's
misfortune, and how, but that she feared to offend his pride, she longed
to give him assistance. She had even ventured to offer to send him
pecuniary help; but the Colonel (who never mentioned the circumstance
to me any other of his friends), in a kind but very cold letter, had
declined to be beholden to his niece for help.

So I may have remained some days at Rosebury, and the real position of
the two Newcomes was unknown to our friends there. Christmas Eve was
come, and, according to a long-standing promise, Ethel Newcome and her
two children had arrived from the