"Come, none of your jibes, you rascal," cried Mrs. Pynsent, smiling through her tears; "how could I guess who Pen cared for, with her wiffering manners? Well, I will look after your concerns, Tom, but how shall I get on with only Bobby? When will you be home, Tom, and when shall I see you again in Shropshire, and what will become of me till you come back? You are leaving your parents when they most want you, Tom." Mrs. Pynsent's grief became audible; and Mr. Wycherly, waiving his nephew into the carriage, endeavoured to lead his sister from the spot. "It's no use, Bill; you'll never get me away till I have seen the last of my Tom. Anna Maria, take care of Tom, and bring him safe back." The carriage rolled away, and Mrs. Pynsent gazed till a turn in the avenue concealed it from her sight; she turned to Mr. Wycherly. "Take me away now, Bill, and don't speak a word. Put me into my coach, and send Bobby, for I'm done up." Mr. Wycherly did all and every thing his sister could wish. She was conducted to her "coach," as she always designated the phaeton, weeping violently, and "Bobby" took his place by her side without offering a remark, or hazarding a word of consolation. The Hatton carriage drove off, but poor Mrs. Pynsent's sobs were heard distinctly for some time above the tramp of the horses' feet, as they paced down the green turf of the avenue. The Bedinfield carriages now drew to the door, and Julia was to depart to another home, as her sister had done before her; but though her destiny appeared more brilliant, though all earthly advantages conspired to render her fate even more envied and enviable than that of Mrs. Tom Pynsent, there was a mournful silence among her friends, and the voice of congratulation sounded low and melancholy. Smiles and happy prophecy had gladdened Anna Maria's departure; but no one ventured to say that Julia had won a matrimonial prize. No one could confess their heart was not heavy when they saw that young blooming girl led away by Lord and Lady Ennismore--a peeress and a bride. Miss Wycherly sprung towards her friend as she bade them adieu, and burst into tears. "Julia," she said, in a serious and touching tone, "you appear beyond earthly assistance--far beyond human cares; yet we know not what is to be. Julia, in weal or woe, in evil report or good report, Lidham and its inmates are yours for ever." "Amen," responded Charles Spottiswoode. Julia paused, struck by the solemn tone of her friend's affectionate speech: her lip quivered, and the colour fled from her cheek. "Penelope, I know you love me, and I hope our meetings will ever be in undisturbed and happy friendship, but your manner is foreboding of evil."