memory of which Stuart carries about with him to darken his best and brightest hours. What privilege to restore the coveted possession to its natural owner, and to enrich herself by parting with the gift! What happiness for the wife of David Stuart to bring back the smile to his cheek, and to purchase a joy for him for ever! Sweet dreamer! She dreams on, until reality begins. Her education ends. She goes at the instance of her mother and half-brother to London. She takes up her abode with a friend of her guardian's, the Lady Margaret Fordyce, and enters upon London life. Lady Margaret is a widow, young, benevolent, and beautiful. The fame of Eleanor's wealth is soon known to fortune-hunters, and suitors crowd about her. One, Sir Stephen Penrhyn, a coarse, sensual, and brutal personage, captivated by her beauty, and sufficiently wealthy himself, proposes in proper form. Godfrey, the half-brother, explains to David Stuart that Eleanor's family approve the match, and require his formal consent to the union. Stuart sends for Eleanor. He points out to her the advantages of the marriage and the wishes of her friends. The child trembles. She cannot marry, she hurriedly says, a man whom she does not love, and moreover she has seen another whom she prefers. Stuart has only one question to ask. "Is that other rich?" "He has no more," replies Eleanor, "than my father bequeathed to you." Stuart's heart beats guiltily as she speaks of her father's bounty, and, with a meaning which the girl fails to interpret, he anxiously bids her mention the favored man's name. The effort is too intense--her heart is nigh to bursting--she faints, and her mother enters her apartment to find her senseless in the arms of her tutor. The last object Eleanor beholds from her window that night, is David Stuart, looking up, with folded arms, to her room. She rises the next morning to find that Stuart has suddenly quitted the house, having left a sealed letter for her perusal. She reads it. The whole brilliant fabric of her girlhood tumbles down to earth long before she reaches its close. David Stuart loves her not. He is ignorant of her strong affection. He has dissipated her whole vast fortune. With the hope of realizing a sum sufficient to win back Dunleath, he has been tempted to speculations which have beggared his confiding ward. He recommends marriage with Sir Stephen Penrhyn, and takes leave of her for ever, for he has resolved upon self-murder. He asks her to approach the adjacent river on some day of peace and sunshine hereafter--the river which they have so often visited together in sunshine before--to breathe out forgiveness for him there, if she will, and then to forget him. A search is made near the spot indicated. A torn handkerchief hangs on one of the leafless branches; the river is dragged, but the body is not found. Eleanor knows David Stuart is dead, and the knowledge gives color and shape to her remaining days.