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CHAPTER XIII.

PITY IS AKIN TO LOVE.

I will not weep, for 'twere as great a sin,
To shed a tear for thee, as to have been
An actor in thy death.

OME of your rehearsals may be
held at my house, if you like,

Marguerite," said Mrs. Wilmont,

as they left Moorlands after the first rehearsal. "I should like it. Let me have the next one."

"Very well, if you are sure it won't worry and put you out."

"No, no, it will be charming. I like it. Then shall we say Tuesday, at eight o'clock in the evening? And we might dance a little after.”

"Oh! yes, thank you, Mrs. Wilmont; that will be nice."

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will you honour us?"

"No, thank you, if you will excuse me; but I like the girls to come. Thank you so very much." The voice was very sad always now, and her face pale and weary looking, with seldom a smile to brighten it; she seemed painfully anxious that her girls should be amused, but appeared quite unequal to amuse them herself, and was so grateful if any one would take the necessity to do so from her. An almost morbid sense of an unfulfilled duty seemed to oppress her, and a painful yearning to see her child who had caused her so much sorrow, tormented her day and night. She dared not express this to her husband, for he was violent the moment her name was mentioned; but most kind to her on every other subject, and far more indulgent to the other girls. So she bore her trial in silence; but it was daily telling on her health.

The theatricals were a great amusement to

make the dresses, heard Estelle her part, and began to feel revived and brighter from being able to participate in the amusements of the others. As Blanche and her mother walked home from the rehearsal, after a long pause Blanche said

"Mamina, what am I to do about Mr. Freeling ?"

"How do you mean? What about him?"

"It's no use my pretending I don't know what he comes so often for, he takes so much pains to make me understand."

"Well," said her mother, smiling, "and do you object to understand? Do you dislike him?"

'No, I do not dislike him; but he is so different, so unlike anything-so unlike my ideal, in short."

"My dear, who ever marries their ideal? They exist only in imagination; very rarely either man or woman marry what has been their first

father is to anything I dreamt of in my girlish days, and yet, Blanche, no dream-love could ever be what he is now to me! There is no

reason for loving, save, perhaps, the good old one which is, I believe, the most common :-'] love my love because I know my love loves me.' But you need not worry yourself, dear about Mr. Freeling. If you really feel disinclined to receive his attentions, just show him you are by your manner, and I will tell papa not to ask him any more."

"I should not like to be rude or unkind to him," said Blanche. "He is the son of an old friend of papa's, but only I wish he wouldn't be silly, but go on as we are. He makes me so uncomfortable. If we're alone for half-a-minute he seems always as if he was on the point of saying something-something stupid."

The mother laughed as she said

"Poor little maid, these love troubles are very

embarrassing; when a lot of foolish young folks

get together they think they must needs fall in love. I think Mr. Roscommon seems to have a tendresse, too."

"Oh yes, that is very serious and mutual, Estelle confided in me, but she says he has no money, and they will never consent."

"I think they will now, if they are properly asked. I hope there will be no more clandestine affairs. Let's see, you carry him off in the piece; don't you?"

"Yes, isn't that sad? But I believe Estelle likes it better. She says she should not like to play at lovers with him, poor girl. I like her now much better. Indeed they are all nicer. Don't you think Lady Bouverie looks ill ?” "Very; I am quite uneasy about her."

They had reached their own gate, and beside it stood Mr. Wilmont with the two children,