from the world you should feel disposed to relieve the dull monotony of your hours by a walk to us, we shall be gratified.—I was formerly acquainted with your friend Counsellor Steadman. When you write to him, ask him whether he has forgotten Henry Heartley, and whether he thinks his widow a proper associate for you.” I expressed my confidence in her worth. She smiled, and thanked me. “But,” added she, “it is necessary you should know the woman who, at my age and with my appearance, cautions you to keep, as a _secret_, from Miss Flint, even the harmless recreation of this evening. Our meeting Mary would not be allowed to be accidental on her part, and I doubt she is severely treated by her aunt. She conceals from her friend Alice every instance of this kind, but Malcolm is not so reserved with us, and we are miserable on her account. The captain hopes to soften his sister’s heart to a sense of justice at least, and has given up the comfort and prop of his life to the fallacious expectation that Miss Flint will love and provide for the future support of this poor orphan. I did not in the first instance oppose his plan of conciliation. His sister offered to take her; and he yielded her up to her promises of being her friend and protector; but if he knew Miss Howard’s situation she would not remain an hour at Tarefield-hall. Poor Mary understands this perfectly; and with an heroism which does her credit, suffers without complaint, rather than return to be a burden on her uncle. I need not recommend to your favour,” continued she, “this innocent and helpless girl. We are told that you pity her, but be cautious in what you say to her uncle. His mind has been broken down by sorrow and the injuries of fortune, his feelings are become irritable, and his spirit will not brook further insult. Perhaps this gentle creature may find her aunt has a heart. Time must be allowed her to work a change in so obdurate a mind; it is her wish to make the trial complete; but a year and more has been lost already in the attempt, and I have my doubts of her ever being easy or happy where she is.”—“Mrs. Allen and myself,” observed I, “were much struck by the mode in which this young and amiable creature was treated, even before we had been a day at Tarefield; but Miss Flint soon explained to me her system, and left me nothing for wonder, though sufficient for abhorrence. But, my dear Mrs. Heartley, do me the favour, if it be possible, to explain to me Lady Maclairn’s conduct. I wish to esteem her. Wherefore is it, that with a temper so mild and gentle, I see her passively yielding up her dignity in her own house, and witnessing in silence her sister’s treatment of an unoffending girl, who has a just claim even upon _her ladyship_ for protection.”—“Poor Lady Maclairn,” replied she, “is inured to suffering. She knows she can effect nothing, but by an abject submission to Miss Flint. Many causes have contributed to break down her spirits; but none have lessened her