"You're a dear good girl, Anne," he said, "I swear there's nothing I wouldn't do for you!" "How rough you are, cousin!" exclaimed Anne, struggling from his hasty embrace. "I'll do nothing for you, if this is the style I am to be rewarded with. It may be all very well for you, but I don't like it." "Here's another then," laughed Charles, "and now for Dr. Bernard, I suppose he's the best medical man in the place?" "Oh! for goodness sake," said Anne, aghast at the bare idea of facing Mrs. Linchmore, if any other were called in. "Do not go to any one but old Dr. Bernard, whatever you do; Isabella will never forgive me; she is in a tremendous gale as it is. Do you hear, Charley?" said she, catching his arm as he was going off. "All right," said he, laughing at her fright, and leaving her only half convinced as to what he intended doing. "I'll tell him to call the first thing in the morning." Anne held back the hall door as he passed out. It was pouring with rain, but he was on his horse and away in a second. "Why he must be desperately in love with that Miss Neville," said Anne, "to go off in such torrents of rain; he'll be drenched to the skin before he gets to the park gates. Well, I wish I could be ill, and somebody--not that Hall--go mad for me in the same way." And Anne sighed, and smoothed the hair Charles had slightly disarranged. CHAPTER III. THE LETTER. "They sin who tell us love can die! With life all other passions fly-- All others are but vanity. In heaven ambition cannot dwell, Nor avarice in the vaults of hell. Earthly these passions, as of earth-- They perish where they draw their birth. But love is indestructible! Its holy flame for ever burneth-- From heaven it came, to heaven returneth." SOUTHEY. Against the mantle-piece in the morning-room leant Mrs. Linchmore; one hand supported her head, the other hung listlessly by her side, while in the long taper fingers she clasped an open letter. A tiny foot peeped from under the folds of her dress, and rested on the edge of the fender; the fire burnt clear and bright, and lent a slight glow to her cheeks, which were generally pale. She looked very beautiful as she stood there; her graceful figure showed itself to the best advantage, and her long dark lashes swept her cheek, as she looked thoughtfully on the ground. Mrs. Linchmore was not a happy woman; she had, as I have said, married for money, and when too late, found out her mistake, and that money without love is nothing worth. When scarcely seventeen, she had loved with all the fervour and truth of a young heart's first love; her love was returned, but her lover was poor, they must wait for better times; so he went abroad to India, full of hope, and firm in the faith of her to whom he was betrothed; to win honour, fame, glory, and promotion; and with the latter, money wherewith to win as his wife her whom he so dearly loved.