to peace of mind), a feeling of self-contempt, preyed upon her heart. Perceiving this, or rather perceiving the effect, and considering the cause to be a weak, and, in her opinion, a disgraceful attachment to a ruined man, the mother, alarmed, when she remembered that Julian was still in England, eagerly hurried on the marriage.

Dazzled by the large allowance Sir Peter proposed to make, it escaped Mrs. Lindsay that the intended settlement was not even alluded to. True, as Augusta had now no prospect of any fortune of her own, the Matchmaker, had she perceived it, would have feared to insist; for Sir Peter was not so urgent as he had been; he was grown somewhat gloomy, and, during the month that succeeded the departure of Ellen, he only paid an occasional hurried visit to Moss Grove.

However, the Reverend Gregory was a child in all these matters. Sir Peter's presents were many and costly; there was little

He

in the way of a trousseau required in addition to the splendid ornaments, rich satins, laces, velvets, and cashmeres, he lavished. wished the wedding to be private; two young country friends of Augusta's officiated as bridemaids.

Augusta, spite of all her finery, was pale and trembling; but her mother was elate and busy. It was strange that that wedding did not recal the daughter pining in India, or the young bride sleeping in the very churchyard through which the bridal-party passed. But the mother saw the Brussel's veil, the satin robe, the splendid carriage, the outriders, the white cockades, the wondering and envious village-crowd. She greeted her daughter as Lady Riskwell; she saw her drive away with her enamoured husband what could the Matchmaker wish for?

The Rev. Gregory returned to his study, and the mother whispered to herself as, after the departure of her guests, she locked up the

wedding-cake, "Thank Heaven! she is my lady, and has married to her carriage, and now I'll go and write Ellen an account of it Perhaps it may rouse her to make a

all.

good match too......"

CHAPTER LXIV.

"See, winter comes to rule the varied year,

Sullen and sad, with all his rising train,

Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme!
These that exalt the soul to solemn thought

And heavenly musing-welcome, kindred glooms!
Congenial horrors, hail!"

THOMSON'S Seasons.

The summer ripened into autumn, and the autumn withered into winter, and still our exiles dwelt in the little Swiss villa to which they had repaired when first Mr. Lindsay announced his ruin.

Ellen had redeemed her pledge. Her love, her fond care, her cheering smiles, had made a home, although around them rose the dark pine forests, and the Alps gleamed in the dis

VOL. III.

I

tance; although strange faces met their view, and a foreign language fell upon their ears; yet Ellen, by the magic of her woman's nature, made it all seem like Home.

True, there were comforts to be found in this little villa (which had long been inhabited by an English family), comforts not common among the Swiss-carpets, curtains, and here and there an open chimney, where they could burn the fragrant piles of crackling fir — a great luxury that, to those yet uninured to those huge earthenware monuments to a departed fire, known by the name of German stoves, which heat the head without warming the feet, and convey, to the unaccustomed, a sense of oppression, and even of suffocation.

English engravings covered the walls, English books filled the cases, and English ornaments and knick-knacks covered the tables; and it was a curious contrast when the fire blazed merrily, and the party sat by the hearth, Mr.