M. or N. Similia similibus curantur.""

ago, and yet how vividly it a

in the action reminds him of that bright, hopeful morning at Calais. Something in the scent of the flowers steals to his brain, half torpid and benumbed; his heart contracts with an agony of physical suffering. "My darling! my darling!" he murmurs, "shall I never see you tying those flowers again?" and turning from the window, he falls on his knees by the bedsi

k on the bed through a mist of tears; and, so looking, feels his intel

nt pain)--the younger as old as she was then. Her raven hair is parted soft and silky off those pale, delicate temples; her long black lashes rest upon the waxen cheek. No; she never looked as beautiful, not in the calm sleep he used to watch so lovingly; and now the deep, fond eyes must open on his own no more. She was so gentle, too, so patient, so sweet-tempered, and O, so true. He had been a man of the world, neither better nor worse than others: he knew women well; knew how rare

ven and earth, But women, wors

but for her he might long ago have deteriorated to selfishness and cynicism, or sunk into

is not so with us. To care for a bad woman is to be dragged down to her level, inch by inch, till the intellect itself becomes sapped in a daily degradation of the heart. From such slavery

lities of man's nature--his enterprise, courage, patience, sympathy, above all, his trust. Happy the pilgrim on whose life such a beacon-star has s

took so much of the sting out of Mr. Bruce's great sorrow, that he could realise it f

e had visited the stable, ordered the pony-carriage, seen the keeper, and been to look at an Alderney cow. It was one of his idle days, yet, after twenty years of marriage, such days he still liked to spend, i

hour ago had the dew on them still. He could not finish his first letter without consulting her, for she kept his m

chair, her face buried in its cushions, and one hand touching the carpet. He had a quick eye, and the turn of that grey rigid hand warned him wit

cross the room lest she should be disturbed. The doctors came and went, agreeing, as they left the house, that he had answered their questions with wonderful precision and presence of mind; nay, that he was less prostrated by the blow than they should have expected. "Disease of the heart," said they--I b

therto been welcome in his eyes as the light of morning, could not rouse his attention by the depth of her own uncontrolled grief. He sat like an idiot or an opium-eater, t

satellite. Such natures are often very bold to dare, very strong to endure, very difficult to assail, save in their single vulnerable point. Force that, and the man's whole vitality se

edside. The door opened gently to admit a beautiful girl, strangely, startlingly like her dead mother, who came in with a cup of tea and a c

you some tea. Try and rouse yourself, papa

more the tears came to his eyes

acted air. "I have my children left--I have my children left!

s wandering, and tried

," she answered, very gently. "We must help ea

He raised his head to speak, but, stopping himself with an obvio

te features were not swollen, nor her dark eyes dimmed. The silky hair shone smooth and trim, the muslin dress was not rumpled nor dis

dingly attractive; but the self-possession she never seemed to lose, would have warned an experienced admirer, that beneath the white bosom beat a heart not to be reduced by stratagem, nor carried by assault; that he must not hope to see the beautiful dark eyes veil themselves in the dreamy softness which so confesses all it means to hide; that the raven tresses

yet in it a fierceness which chilled and repelled him, while he worshiped; how his children could never be brought to look in the fair face of their stepmother without crying aloud for fear; and how at last he discovered, to his horror and dismay, that he had wedded a fearful creature, half wolf, half woman, com

red in his step when he crossed the room. The shock of grief had evidently overmastered his faculties--something, too, besides affliction, seemed to worry and distress him--something of which he wished to unbosom himself, but that yet he

rselves. It will do us both good. Bargrave can be down by the

the same firm, indeed, that had apprised him of his inheritance at Calais twenty years

al; but again some hidden motive stung him into action, and taking his seat at the writing-table, he seized a pen

ily enough, but in the clear unwavering hand, affirmed by her correspondents to be so characteristic of the writer's disposition, and ringing the bell, des

aid, who, tearful and hysterical, had answered the fami

e a telegraphic message and a letter. Tell him to send wor

or send a confidential person to Ecclesfield Manor, by the very first train, on urgent business; and wrote a letter as well to the same address, explaining her need of immediate

rt till their manes are straightened and their hoofs blacked. In the interval, Miss Bruce became more and more concerned to observe no signs of attention on her father's part--no inquiries as to her moti

get your dressing-room ready. You are ill,

away like a little child. He would even have passed the bed where his

it for the courage with which she kept her t

lips were never more to touch the gentle brow which in a whole lifetime he had not seen to frown--that their next gre

ind of emotion, and so left the room, muttering vaguely certain indistinct and inco

f good enough to you while you were with us, and now--but I won't cry--I won't cry. There'll be time enough for all that by and by. The first thing to think of is about papa. He hasn't borne it well. Men have very little courage when they come to trial, and I fear--I fear there is something sadly wrong with him. Let me see. Three-quarters of an hour to get to Bragford--five minutes' stoppage at the turn-pike, for that stupid man is

he arrangements. He can't be here till ten o'clock at the earliest, even if he starts by the first train. I shall write m

ence. Something between sleeping and waking, yet without the repose of the one, the consciousness of the other. So