Heaven helpeth those who help themselves. Go forth
        with faith and love,
Remembering, what Ye cannot do, will be done by
        Him above.

NORTH AND SOUTH.
BY THE AUTHOR OF MARY BARTON.

CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH.

ON Margaret's return home she found two
letters on the table: one was a note for her
mother, the other, which had come by the
post, was evidently from her Aunt Shaw—
covered with foreign post-marks—thin,
silvery, and rustling. She took up the other,
aud was examining it, when her father came
in suddenly:

"So your mother is tired, and gone to bed
early  I'm afraid such a thundery day was
not the best in the world for the doctor to
see her. What did he say? Dixon tells me
he spoke to you about her."

Margaret hesitated. Her father's looks
became more grave and anxious:

"He does not think her seriously ill?"

"Not at present; she needs care, he says;
he was very kind, and said he would call
again, and see how his medicines worked."

"Only care—he did not recommend change
of air?—he did not say this smoky.town was
doing her any harm, did he, Margaret ?"

"No! not a word," she replied, gravely.
"He was anxious, I think."

"Doctors have that anxious manner; it's
professional," said he.

Margaret saw, in her father's nervous ways,
that the first impression of possible danger
was made upon his mind, in spite of all his
making light of what she told him. He could
not forget the subject, could not pass from
it to other things; he kept recurring to it
through the evening, with an unwillingness
to receive even the slightest unfavourable
idea, which made Margaret inexpressibly sad.

"This letter is from Aunt Shaw, papa. She
has got to Naples, and finds it too hot, so she
has taken apartments at Sorrento. But I
think she likes Italy."

"He did not say anything about diet, did he?"

"It was to be nourishing, and digestible.
Mamma's appetite is pretty good, I think."

"Yes! and that makes it all the more
strange he should have thought of speaking
about diet."

"I asked him, papa." Another pause.
Then Margaret went on: " Aunt Shaw
says she has sent me some coral ornaments,
papa; but," added Margaret, half smiling,
"she's afraid the Milton Dissenters won't
appr.vinte them. She has got all her ideas
of Dissenters from the Quakers, has not
she?"

"If ever you hear or notice that your
mother wishes for anything, be sure you let
me know. I am so afraid she does not tell
me always what she would like. Pray, see
after that girl, Mrs. Thornton named. If we
had a good, eiiicient house-servant, Dixon
could be constantly with her, and I'd answer
for it we'd soon set her up amongst us,
if care will do it. She's been very much
tired of late, with the hot weather, and
the difficulty of getting a servant. A little
rest will put her quite to rights—eh,
Margaret?"

"I hope-so," said Margaret,—but so sadly,
that her father took notice of it. He pinched
her cheek.

"Come; if you look so pale as this, I. must
rouge you up a little. Take care of yourself,
child, or you'll be wanting the doctor next."

But he could not settle to anything that
evening. He was continually going back-
wards and forwards, on laborious tiptoe, to
see if his wife was still asleep. Margaret's
heart ached at his restlessness; his trying to
stifle and strangle the hideous fear that w;is.
looming out of the dark places of his heart.

He came back at last, somewhat
comforted.

"She's awake now, Margaret. She quite
smiled as she saw me standing by her. Just
her old smile. And she says she feels
refreshed, and ready for tea. Where's the note
for her? She wants to see it. I'll read it
to her while you make tea."

The note proved to be a formal invitation
from Mrs. Thornton, to Mr., Mrs., and Miss
Hale to dinner, on the twenty-first instant.
Margaret was surprised to find an acceptance
contemplated, after all she had learnt of sad
probabilities during this day. But so it was,
The idea of her husband's and daughter's
going to this dinner had quite captivated
Mrs. Hale's fancy, even before Margaret had
heard the contents of the note. It was an
event to diversify the monotony of the
invalid's life; and she clung to the idea of their
going with even fretful pertinacity when
Margaret objected.

"Nay, Margaret! if she wishes it, I 'm
sure we'll both go willingly. She never
would wish it unless she lelt herself really
stronger—really better than we thought she
was, eh, Margaret? " said Mr. Hale, anxiously,
as Margaret prepared to write the note of
acceptance the next day.

"Eh! Margaret? " questioned he, with a
nervous motion of his hands. It seemed cruel
to refuse him the comfort that he craved for.
And besides, his passionate refusal to admit
the existence of fear, almost inspired
Margaret herself with hope.

"I do think she is better since last night,"
said she. " Her eyes look brighter, and her
complexion clearer."

"God bless you," said her father, earnestly.
"But is it true? Yesterday was so sultry
every one felt ill. It was a most unlucky day
for Mr. Donaldson to see her on."

So he went away to his day's duties, now
increased by the preparation of some lectures
he had promised to deliver to the working