of his attenuated frame; Cecil pressed her
hands on his brow, while South lifted him
higher and still higher on the sofa; at last the
paroxysm was over, and the poor irritable
sufferer struggled, first flushed, then became pale
and panted, until able to take some soothing
medicine, which in a few minutes lulled him to
sleep. His sister and his servant watched him
without moving, until, at length, Miss Middleton
sank noiselessly into a seat, and pointed to the
door. South crept stealthily out of the room,
and after a time, when assured that her brother
really slept, Miss Middleton drew a letter from
her bosom and began unfolding it on her lap;
but the paper was obstinate and would give
that inexplicable sound, which is more disturbing
to an invalid than positive noise. Cecil
ceased, and put the cherished letter into her
pocket; then bent forward and clasped her
hands on her lap.

Let us pause and look at her; you will
hardly be content with a passing glance at Cecil
Middleton. There is a fascination about her,
possessed but by few who are considered
beautiful, if you observe the loving and
up-looking meaning in her large dark eyes; the
often tremulous motion of her well-formed lips,
which when they speak call up more dimples
than you can count; the oval of her firm yet
womanly face, and the dignity of her brow,
tempered at that moment by the sympathy
she felt for a brother who had caused her
much sorrow, and done her much wrong! If
you take in all this, as you may do in a couple
of minutes, you will want to know her, and
when you know her, be you man or woman, you
must love her. I do not mean that, being a man,
you must "fall," as it is vulgarly called, "in
love" with her; but you would receive her into
your heart as you would a thought new and
pure, a holy inspiration; and you would be
happy in her society, and seek to earn her good
opinion, seeing that neither envy nor jealousy
disturbed her; you would even make her your
confidant and talk freely to her of the girl you
hoped to marry, and she would do her best to
confirm you in that love, and without any
profession would counsel you as if she were your
sister; and while she laughed and jested, and
danced with children they would look into her
eyes and believe in her as if she were their own
mother, and tell her all their troubles, which would
vanish beneath the influence of her sympathy.

Her voice is low, and soft, and clear. Her
head bent, as it now is, shows the beauty of her
dark waving hair, which is folded round the
head, and then coiled at the back into a soft
knot, the ends falling in curls over the neck.

After a time she ceases to look at Major
Middleton, and it seems as though her inquiring
ing eyes were seeking to scan the future. Yet
it seems plain enough; there are not six, no,
not three, months' life in her brother; whose
sleep might now be called tranquil, but that
every respiration is a sob, wrestling against
the disease that seeks to stifle life. When her
brother no longer lives, Cecil will be his heiress!

Major Middleton dying without children, his
sister becomes mistress of Middleton Lea and
three thousand a year; were it not so, she
would be compelled to live on the interest of
her own four or five thousand pounds. But
there is no danger of that. She has been the
most tender and patient of sisters, though she
knows that Gerald, if he desired to do so, has
not the power to will away the property—it
must be hers. All his life he has been tyrannical
and exacting in the cruellest sense of the
words; a selfish man, though a brave soldier;
not extravagant; never generous, even to
him-self; it is needless, now, when he is dying, to
say how his hard nature paralysed, if it did
not break, the heart of his widowed mother;
and how he, who could have seen his sister a
happy wife, years ago, kept her back instead ot
helping her on to the attainment of the one
desire of her full, pure heart.

As she sat, recalling a past that had never
dimmed or changed, and then casting pitying
glances at the brother whom, though she did
not love nor trust, she served, South re-entered
the room, and stood close to the screen. He
beckoned his mistress. South was an Irishman,
and though long residence in England and
abroad had rendered his national accent almost
imperceptible when he spoke quietly, his tone
and a peculiar idiom often indicated his native
land.

"I'll go in and sit by the master, miss, if
you'll please to let me—there's one below
wanting you."

"Wanting me, South! Surely you said I
could not leave my brother?"

"Indeed, then, I did not, miss."

"South! After my orders!"

"Go and see, miss."

Cecil looked at the old servant, and at once
knew who it was that "wanted her."

She moved forward, but, as if struck by
sudden blindness, her hand groped for the
wall.

"Oh, dear mistress, keep a good heart. I
never saw him look better nor handsomer; the
first look at him will strengthen you."

"God bless her!" he murmured to himself,
as, having overcome her momentary weakness,
she passed down the stairs, at first tremblingly,
then swiftly. "God bless her! it's the world's
wonder she is, if the world only knew it. Well,
there's life—long happiness in store for her, that's
a comfort, though I'll be sorry for the poor
master too, poisoned as he is with fair wickedness.
Something unbeknown to us all must
have turned his blood into gall long ever ago, or
he could not torture her as he does! I shouldn't
like, for one, to have the cleaning out of his
heart after the life leaves it!" And he glided
into the sick man's room.

CHAPTER II.

CECIL MIDDLETON and Ronald Chester had
not met for several months; and letters are
but cold expositors of feelings. It was some
moments before either could speak; but the