e of mind. She did suppose that it had better be so. She knew that she did not love the man. She knew also that she loved another man. She did not even think that she should ever l

t would be impossible that she could remain an inmate in his house, unless she acceded to his wishes. Her aunt manifestly thought that it was her duty to accept the man, and could not understand how so manifest a duty, going hand in hand as it did with so great an advantage, should

hat bargain she had made for poultry suffice for the house? Was that lot of wine which she had persuaded her uncle to buy of a creditable quality? Were her efforts for increasing her uncle's profits compatible with satisfaction on the part of her uncle's guests? Such were the questions which from day to day occupied her attention and filled her with interest. And therefore her own identity was not strong to her, as it is strong to those whose business permits them to look frequently into themselves, or whose occupations are of a nature to produce such introspect

erer. But this other man had come,-this Adrian Urmand; and a great undertaking was presented to her, and the performance of a heavy task was demanded from her. Then it was necessary that there should be identity of self and introspection. She had to ask herself whether the task was practicable, whether its performance was within the scope of her powers. She told herself at first that it was not to be done; that it was one which she would not even attempt. Then as she looked at it more frequently, as she came to understand how great was the urgency of her uncle; as she came to find, in performing that task of introspection, how unimportant a person she was herself, she

any peculiar exemption from the Protestantism of her uncle. She had resolved during those early hours of the morning that 'it had better be so.' She thought that she could go through with it all, if only they would not tease her, and ask her to wear her Sunday frock, and force her to sit down with them at table. Let them settle the day-with a word or two thrown in by herself to increase the

prone to admire her. It would be something to have a niece married to Adrian Urmand, the successful youn

e so,

t is so, you ha

t is righ

g for a girl to accept the man whom all her friends wish her

r un

be settled well. I am told that M. Urmand's house is one of those which look down upon the river from near the church; the very best position in all the town. And it is full of everything, they say. His f

scend to consider that interesting question, of the day of the wedding. 'There is quite time enough for all that, Aunt Josey,' she said, as she got u

close to him put up her face to be kissed. He understood it all in a moment, and the whole tone and colour of his countenance was altered. There was no man whose face would become more radiant with satisfaction than that of Michel Voss-when he was satisfied. Please him-and immediately there would be an effort on his part to please everybody around him. 'My darling, my own one,' he said, 'it is all right.' She kissed him again and pressed his arm, but said not a word. 'I am so glad,' he exclaimed; 'I am

n too happy, unc

sn't doing my duty by you. I was beginning to know that you ought to have a house and servants of your own. People say that it is a great match for you;

uch things to flatte

han to take up with one of your town-bred girls, who never learn anything except how to flaunt about with as much finery on their backs as they can get their people to give them. He might have had the pick of them at Basle,-or at Strasbourg either, for the matter of that; but he has thought my girl better than them all; and I love him for it-so I do. It was to be expected that a young fellow with mea

ad been up in the wood, he had asked himself how he would treat Marie in consequence of her disobedience to him; and he had at last succeeded in producing within his own breast a state of mind that was not perhaps very reasonable, but which was consonant with his character. He would let her know that he was angry with her,-very angry with her; that she had half broken his heart by her obstinacy; but after that she should be to him his own Marie again. He would no

o her mind. Perhaps it may be said of every human heart in a sound condition that it must be specially true to some other one human heart; but it may certainly be so said of every female heart. The object may be changed from time to time,-may be changed very suddenly, as when a girl's devotion is transferred with the consent of all her friends from her mother to her lover; or very slowly, as when a mother's is transferred from her husband to some favourite child; but, unless self-worship be predominant, there is always one friend to whom the woman's breast is true,-for whom it is the woman's joy to offer herself

ll caressing him, 'I am so

always to be thinking of himself. To see you treated by all the world as you ought to be treated,-as I should choose that my own daughter should be treated

them both that she should remain with him. She knew, to the moving of a feather, what she could do with him and what she could not. Her immediate wish was to

elf had found that that changing of his coat had impaired his comfort. He could eat his dinner and his supper in his best clothes on Sunday, and not feel the inconvenience; but on other occasions those unaccustomed garments were as heavy to him as a suit of armour. There was, therefore, nothing more said about clothes. Marie was to dispense her soup as usual,-expressing a confident assurance that if Peter

ould have been quite incompatible with such a betrothal. Any delay that could have been effected would have been a delay, not of months, but of days,-or at most of a week or two. She had made up her mind that she would not be afraid of her wedding. She would teach herself to have no dread either of the man or of the thing. He was not a bad man, and marriage in itself was honourable. She formed ideas also of some future true friendship for her husband. She would endeavour t

an had her husband. She still believed that Marie's heart was not with Adrian Urmand. But, attributing perhaps no very great importance to a young girl's heart, and fancying that she knew that in this instance the young girl's heart could not have its own way, she wa

Marie hurried,

saw the unaccustomed wisdom. He made no answer, but after a while nodded his head also, and went out of the room a man convinced. There were matters between women,

desirable. For some four-and-twenty hours, during which he had thought himself to be ill-used, and had meditated a retreat from Granpere, he had contrived to teach himself that he might possibly live without her; but as soon as he was accepted, and when the congratulations of the men and women of Granpere were showered down upon him in quick succession,-so

y that there should be an especial parting. 'She is up-stairs in the little sitting

say good-bye

utting both her hands in his, and

with such joy for

cheek, and still held his

lo

arms, and kissed her close, and went out of the room with tears streaming down his cheeks. He knew now