at is over now,' said Mr. Kendal; 'you have ered her at last. Pride could not hold out against weetness.'

is her generosity,' said Albinia; 'I always knew she e best of them all, if one could but get at her.'. hat have you done to her? I never heard her say much as she voluntarily said to me just now.' or dear! I believe the key of her heart was lost Edmund died, and so all within was starved,' Albinia. "Yes,' as his eyes were suddenly raised xed on her, 'I got to that at last. No one has ever stood her, since she lost her brother.'

he has a certain likeness to him,' he muttered.

'I

she was his favourite sister; but such a child as she

hildren have deeper souls than you give them credit said Albinia. 'Yes, Edmund, you and Sophy are much alike! You had your study, and poor Sophy osed herself in a perpetual atmosphere of the study, so you never found each other out till to-day.' erhaps it was the influence of the frantic fit that ed her to make so direct a thrust; but Mr. Kendal not by any means offended. There was a good deal he mere absence from habitual scenes and associations; he always left a great deal of reserve behind him at ford.

You may be right, Albinia,' he said; 'I sometimes k you are like old Vaughan's 'star confined into a b' amongst us.'

Such a compliment was a pretty reward for her erity.

Returning to business, she found that her journey was ated as more judicious than she deserved. The conseences had justified her decision. Mr. Kendal knew it is the right thing to be done, and was glad to have en spared the dreadful task of making up his mind to

it. He sat down of his own accord to write a note to Winifred, beginning, Albinia was right, as she always is; and though his wife interlined, ‘Albinia had no right to be right, for she was inconsiderate, as she always is,' she looked so brilliantly pretty and bright, and was so full of sunny liveliness, that she gave rise to one of the very few disputes between her good aunts, Miss Ferrars declaring that poor Albinia was quite revived by the return to her old home, and absence of care; and Mrs. Annesley insisting on ascribing the credit of her blitheness to Mr. Kendal's arrival. They were perfectly agreed, however, in unwillingness to part with their guests; and as the doctor wished to see a little more of his patient, the visit was prolonged nearly a fortnight, and was much enjoyed by all parties.

Sophy had from the first received her sentence so easily, that Albinia suspected that she did not realize the tedium of confinement, and was relieved by being allowed to be inactive. Until she should go home, she might do whatever did not fatigue her; but most sights, and even the motion of the easy carriage, were so fatiguing to her, that she was much more inclined to remain at home and revel in the delightful world of books. The kind unobtrusive petting; the absence of customary irritations; the quiet high bred tone throughout the house, so acted upon her as to render her something as agreeably new to herself as to other people. The glum mask seemed to have been cast aside, and she responded amiably to kindness and attention, allowing herself to be drawn into conversation, and developing much more intelligence and depth than even Albinia had given her credit for.

One day, when Miss Ferrars was showing Mr. Kendal some illustrations of Indian scenery, a question arose upon the date of the reign of one of the native sovereigns to whom the buildings were ascribed. Mr. Kendal could not recollect, and no one was likely to help him; but Sophia,

ng up, quietly pronounced the date, and gave her ns for it, briefly, but in a way that showed her to be me in the subject. Miss Ferrars was amused, and how she could have learnt so much on an out-ofvay topic.

only read a book of the History of India, up in the said Sophy.

That book!' exclaimed her father; 'I wish you joy! ver could get through it! It is the driest chronicle er read-a mere book of reference. What could in

you to read that?'

I have read it twice,' said Sophy; 'I would read anyg about India;' and her tone, though so low and sub1, betrayed such enthusiasm as could find nothing ; and this in a girl who had read aloud the reign of vard III. with stolid indifference.

Well, I think I can promise you more interesting ling about India when we go home,' said Mr. Kendal. The colour rose on Sophy's cheek. Books out of a's study! Could the world offer a greater privilege? e was almost too much pleased to be able to pronounce, thank you.'

Very faithful to her birth-place,' said Miss Ferrars, ling; but she must have been very young when she ne home.'

About four years old, I believe,' said her father. ou surely can remember nothing of Talloon.'

I don't know,' said Sophy, almost mournfully; 'I ed

I thought Indian children usually lost their eastern collections very early,' said Miss Ferrars; 'I never ard of one who could remember the sound of Hindoshee a year after coming home.'

Mr. Kendal, entertained and gratified, turned to his ughter; and, by way of experiment, began a short sennce in Hindostanee; but, to his surprise, the first sound VOL. 14.

37

PART 84.

brought a glow to her cheeks, and tears to her eyes; and, with a hurried gesture, she murmured, 'Please don't, Papa.'

Something told Albinia that feelings were here concerned which must not be played on in public; and she hastily plunged into the discussion, and drew it away from Sophy. Following her up-stairs at bed-time, as she always did, to spare her fatigue in undressing, she contrived to win from her an explanation.

Edmund had been seven years old at the time his father had given up his appointment as resident at one of the small native courts. Fondly attached to some of the Hindoo servants, and with unusual intelligence and observation, the gorgeous scenery and oriental habits of his first home had dwelt vividly in his imagination, and he had always considered himself as only taken to England for a time, to return again to India. Thus, he had been fond of romancing of the past and of the future, and had never let his little sister's recollections fade entirely away. His father had likewise thought that it would save future trouble to keep up the boys' knowledge of the language and character which would by-and-by be so important to them. Gilbert's health had caused his studies of every sort to be often intermitted, but Edmund had constantly received instructions in the Indian languages, and whatever he learnt had been imparted to his favourite companion, Sophia. It was piteous to discover how much time the poor forlorn little girl had since spent sitting on the floor in the loft, poring over old grammars, and phrasebooks, and translations of missionary or government school-books there accumulated-anything that related to India, or that seemed to carry on what she had done with Edmund: and she had acquired just enough to give her a keen appetite for all the higher class of lore, which she knew to reside in the unapproachable study. Those few familiar words from her father had overcome her,

ise, a trivial greeting in themselves, they had been d of password between her and her brother.

is discovery was important. Mr. Kendal was greatly k and touched, and somewhat remorseful for having such a heart to pine in solitude, while he was abed in his own lonely grief; and Albinia ventured y, I believe the greatest pleasure you could give would be to help her to keep up the language.'

e half smiled, but said, 'Of what possible use could it b her?'

was not thinking of future use. It would be of ense present use to her to do anything with you, and n see that nothing would gratify her so much. Be3, I have been trying to think of all the new things uld set her to do. She must have lessons to fill up day, poor child, and I want to make fresh beginnings, not go back to the blots and scars of our old misunstandings.'

You want me to teach her Sanscrit because you cannot h her Italian.'

Exactly so,' said Albinia, laughing, and the Italian

spring all the better from the venerable root, when have forgotten how cross we used to be to each other r our relative pronouns.'

But, Albinia, you know nothing about it. There is dly anything which I could let her read in those langes if she had learnt them.'

Very likely not; but you can pick out what there is. you remember the fable of the treasure that was to be ned by digging under the apple-tree, and which turned not to be gold, but the fruit, the consequence of digg? Now, I want you to dig Sophy; a Sanscrit, or a Hinstanee, or a Persian treasure, will do equally well as the etext. If she had announced a taste for the differential lculus, I should have said the same. Only dig her, as aurice dug me àpropos to Homer. I wouldn't bother you,