tell you once for all, I never will be disturbed at my morning studies till four o'clock, and _then_ not except by _people of condition_." Soon after this tirade, a light foot crossing the hall prepared the confounded party for the entrance of the Iris of this angry Juno. But when Miss Wildenheim opened the door, her elegantly affable curtsy and benignant smile dispersed the gathering frowns on the visages of the disappointed groupe. This young lady's politeness proceeded from the workings of a kind heart guided by a clear head: it was a polish which owed its lustre to the intrinsic value of the gem it embellished, not a superficial varnish spread over a worthless substance, which a slight collision would destroy, rendering the flaws it had for a time concealed but the more conspicuous. With one glance of her dark eye she perceived, that the good people were offended, and while she made the best apology she could for the non-appearance of the Webberly family, her cheek glowed with indignation at their insolent carriage to modest worth: the attentive suavity of her manner was more than usually pleasing to the unassuming but insulted party, and her endeavours to soothe their wounded pride were quickly rewarded with the success they merited. Miss Wildenheim in turn enquired for all the relations of each individual present, whose existence had ever come to her knowledge; and in her search after appropriate conversation, put in requisition every other subject of chit-chat, her small stock of that current coin furnished her with. But now--"the eloquent blood," which had spoken "in her cheek and so divinely wrought," no longer tinging it with "vermeil hues," her pallidity struck Mrs. Martin's kind heart with a pang of sorrow. "My _dear_ Miss Wildenheim," said she, in a tone that showed the epithet was not a word of course, "I'm afraid your visit to London has not agreed as well with you as ours did with Lucy and me, you don't look so fresh coloured as you did in the beginning of spring." "Ah! Mrs. Martin," interrupted Mr. Lucas, "that high colour was a hectic symptom, I am not altogether sorry to see it has disappeared; I hope, Miss Wildenheim, you have nearly recovered from the effects of that smart fever you had last winter." With a look of thanks to both enquirers, Mr. Lucas' _ci-devant_ patient replied, "Perfectly, my dear Sir; it must have been a most inveterate disorder, that could have baffled the skill and kind attention--you exerted for my benefit." Mr. Lucas sapiently shook his head, and expressed his doubts as to her _perfect_ recovery. "Believe me, Sir, I feel quite well, my illness was only caused by change of climate." At the word _climate_, the heretofore placid brow of the fair speaker was clouded by an expression of ill-concealed anguish; for that word had conjured up the remembrance of days of hope and joy--of tenderness, on which the grave had closed for ever! which with all the