Rachel Gray

s are crazy, old, and brown, of every height and every size; many are untenanted. Some years ago one was internally destroyed by fire. It was not thought wort

the neighbourhood is a poor one, care to reside in it, while they can be lodged as cheaply close by, and more to their taste. Some think that the old square at the end, with its ancient, nodding trees, is close and gloomy; others have heard strange noises in the house that has suffe

th how much truth is known to his own heart-that he likewise cut out, fashioned, and fitted, a pair of blue nether garments. Further on, at the corner of the square, stands the house of Mrs. Adams, an aged widow, who keeps a small school, which, on her brass board, she emphatically denominates her "Establishment for Young Ladies." This house has an unmistakeable air of literary dirt and neglect; the area and

veal to the contrary, the people who live there are so very rich that they do not need to work at all, or so very genteel in their

smallest houses in the street. A little six-roomed house it was, exactly facing the dreary haunted mansion, and exposed to all the noises aforesaid. It was, also,

HEL

ook of fashions, and beautiful and bright, as if reared in wood or meadow, a pot of yellow

furniture though poor and old-fashioned, was scrupulously clean; and it shone again in the flickering fire-light. A few discoloured prints in black frames hung against t

ad once been handsome, sat reading the newspaper. Near the window

her aspect harmonized with the silence of the little parlour which nothing disturbed, save the ticking of an old clock

e, yet there was a patient seriousness in the lines of her face, which, when it caught the eye, arrested it at once, and kept it long. Her brow, too, was broad and intellectual; her eyes

crocuses attracted her attention. She looked at them meditatively, and watched them closing, with the decline of day. An

at the creatu

m her newspaper, and snu

ll tell you what though," she added, with a doleful shake of the head, "I don't

Minister's household, and this had

flowers with something like awe, and a glow spread over her

ething particularly grim about this young maiden-a drear stolidity that defies describing. A pure Saxon she was-no infusion of Celtic, or Danish, or Norman blood had lightened the native weight of her nature. She was young, yet she already went through life settling everything, and living in a mo

ishly said Mary, the

ly observed: "Put b

and came out with: "Law

drew her needle and thread twice as fast as before. "Thank Heaven!" she piously thought,

sat looking at the crocuses until

, sunny spots where it is sweet to linger. The Future, fair as Hope may make it, is a dream, we claim it in vain. The Present, harsh or delightful, must be endured, yet it flies from us before

en forest. Near that forest there was a breezy field; and there it was that Rachel first saw the yellow crocuses bloom. She remembered her joy, her delight at the wonderful beauty of the wild field flowers-how she and Jane heaped their laps with them, and sat down at the task; and how, when tired with the pleasant labour, they rested, as many yellow

ittle companion and friend? Sleeping in a London grave, far from the pleasant and sunny spots where G

ought Rachel, "can

y asked her mother, who, though half blind, had

he dead, sank back once more to their quiet resting-place in Rachel's hea

er was such a moper as

to he

d been thinking of the yellow crocuses, and of the spots they grew in, and of th

y, as a dark figure passed by the w

She went, and in came, or rather bounced, Mrs. Brown-a short, stout, vu

see it. Well, Rachel, and how are you getting on? Mrs. James's dress don't fit her a bit, and she says she'll not give you another stitch of work: but la! you don't care-do you? Why, Mary, how yello

ed her

e said, with some sternness, "and as to getting

d laughed until the tears ran down her face. W

I told you, third column, second page, 'The Church

ntion, Mrs. Gray had no

ss

them sort of things! The badness of others don't make us good- does it? It's the

take home thi

ered to herself. She was not ill-natured, but

rs. Brown, as Rachel left the room. For Mrs. Brown being Mrs. Gray's cous

confessed Mrs. Gray, poking the

s. Brown was talking, she had been tying up her parc

should be. It is sweet, after the long closeness of the work-room, to walk out and fee

d she sighed to enter the noisy and populous world before her. She hastily crossed it, and only slackened her pace when she reached the wide streets, the mansions with gardens to them, the broad an

us, entertained himself and his companions, by making her ten times more so. His speech was rude-his jests were insolent. Rachel was meek and humble; but

rcy checked the temptation; it might make him lose his place. Poor Rachel! she little knew that this footman could have been insolent to his mistress herself, had

. Rachel found her very much out of temper. To say the truth, one of her recent visitors was

by bringing back work in this style? That flounce is at least an inch t

tered, ma'am," said

ed Mrs. Moxton. "I owe you something;

ll to-morrow, ma'am; and i

she was easily depressed. It was night when she stood once more in the street. Above the pale outline of the houses spread a sky of dark azure. A star shone in it, a little star; but it burned with as brilliant a light as any great planet. Rachel gazed at it earnestly, and the shadow passed away. "Wh