lead us into that mysterious sea which man has named Eternity. Our home existence was as quiet and secluded as my outward life. On settling at Leigh, Miss O'Reilly had come to a resolve which she thus imparted to me one evening:--"Daisy, you were too young when you left Leigh to know that because it is a small place it must have the inconvenience of all small places, in which life is a round of back- biting, quarrelling, envying, scandal, and gossip. Now we can't help being backbitten or talked about, but we can help doing it to others: the way, child, is to keep to ourselves and to see no one. We shall be hated, as a matter of course; thought proud, or still worse in England, poor. Never mind, child, those are not the things one cannot endure." "Papa was thought proud," I said. "And so he was, child; he had a mind above the paltriness of such a place as this,--of course he had: he never would have been a popular man anywhere, never. Well, as I was saying, child, we must bear with being thought proud and poor, for we shall make no acquaintances. A decent, civil intercourse we must certainly keep up with Miss Murray--she won't trouble us much, poor thing!--but beyond this we do not go. Now, you must not misunderstand me. I do not mean to keep you locked up, and if you can get acquainted with pleasant young people, I do not object. There is a dancing academy, it seems, and since your father wished you to learn how to dance, you must learn it, of course. If you meet there sensible girls whom you would like to see, see them here in liberty; but as to visiting their mammas, or being visited by them, I decline the honour." Thus it was settled. We lived in our retired way; we were thought proud and poor; we saw Miss Murray every now and then in her own house, for to come near us was an exertion not to be thought of; I went to the academy, and learned how to dance, but I found all the young ladies so little to my taste, that with not one of them did I form an intimate acquaintance, and two years passed away in this quiet, monotonous life, varied by the letters of Cornelius. Only a few were addressed to "his dear adopted child," but they were so kind, they breathed an affection so true, an interest so heartfelt, that to this day, and spite of all that has passed since then, I cannot look over them without emotion. In all his letters, Cornelius spoke of course of his art and his prospects. He was enchanted with Rome, and ardent with hope; but he did not think it worth while to send home anything before his return. He thought he might just as well wait until he was coming back, and take the public by storm. Miss O'Reilly thought so too, and we accordingly expected her brother in the spring of the second year following his departure. A somewhat enigmatic letter, in which he expressed his great wish of seeing us both again, confirmed this impression.