street" glided away past her, as her vehicle faltering undertone.

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It was true, she had rattled over the stones. Zaidee looked out been called Elizabeth as well as Zaidee at her wistfully upon the long line of doors and win- baptism; but it concerned her honor that she dows, all closed and cold, and turned in again was thus obliged to disown her own proper upon herself and her small possessions, setting name. forth once more alone. Then the tears came "Elizabeth? I am so very glad it is a comone after another, and dropped upon her mon name," said Mrs. Burtonshaw. My hands. She could not tell what it was she sister is very anxious to call Mary, Maria: wept for; but her heart was full and over- but she will not have it; and I am sure, if flowed. your name had been Augusta, or Laura, or She was setting forth again upon the un- any of these, the dear child would not have known world; but Zaidee was fearless as only liked you half so well. Elizabeth? Well, to a child can be. No shadows rose across her be sure! Do you know I am called Elizabeth open way, and heaven was clear above it-al- myself? ways present, always near at hand to be appealed to. It was only a vague forlornness and solitude which brought those tears to her eyes. She went forth in simple sincerity, without a fear.

Zaidee looked up at her, believing that this must surely have been the reason why her heart warmed to the old lady; for every thing must be good and lovable, which bore her beautiful cousin's name.

"Do you think it is a pretty name," asked simple Mrs. Burtonshaw.

To make her reception all, the more solemn, Mrs. Lancaster had appointed it to be in her great drawing-room, where all the chairs were "I think it is like a princess," said Zaidee; in pinafores. Mrs. Burtonshaw had already for Zaidee was thinking of Elizabeth Vivian, packed up her jewelry, and looked all the bet- and not of the old lady by her side. ter for it, as she sat in a plain cap and a warm "Well, to be sure! Mary always says she morning dress by the side of the fire. There is a matter-of-fact girl. She has no poetry were a great many parcels about the room; about her; but that is because my sister alparcels of books marked, "for my dearest ways bores the dear child with poetry. You Mary;" and softer parcels, fresh from luxuri- must not think I am ignorant what a very suous shops of silk-mercery," for my sister," perior woman Mrs. Cumberland is, Miss Fran"for Mr. Cumberland," and "for my dearest cis," continued Mrs. Burtonshaw, correcting Mary," again. If these were all presents, herself, and looking dignified; "But I really Mrs. Burtonshaw was a visitor worth having. do believe, though I am only her aunt, my dear Mrs. Lancaster sat at a table, writing the name love takes more after me than her mamma, of that same dearest Mary, "with the best re- and I cannot say I had ever much head for gards of J. L.," in a book of good advice for poetry. Mary has, I believe, if she only turned young ladies, very richly bound, and gay to her attention to it; she might do almost any look at, though of weight enough to break thing; but she has such plain tastes, just like down the understanding of any unwary young me. My dear, are you fond of poetry?" lady deluded into making acquaintance with Yes," said Zaidee, in whose estimation the contents within. Zaidee and her "ward- Mary fell immensely after this speech of her robe," which, in the little box Mrs. Disbrowe had aunt's.

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given her, Mrs. Lancaster's factotum carried "Indeed! "Well, I am sure, Mary will in one hand contemptuously, were first taken like you, whether or not," said Mrs. Burtonup stairs to a little room, close to Mrs. Burton- shaw, with a momentary hesitation. "I dareshaw's, which was Miss Francis's room for the say, you don't know so much about it as her night. Mrs. Lancaster's maid stood and looked mamma does; and I think, my dear, if I were on, while Zaidee took off her little brown cloak you I would not say any verses to her. and bonnet, and then, with rather more au- never liked it. I would not, if I were you." thority than respect intimated that the young "I never say verses, except to myself," said lady was sent for to the drawing-room, and Zaidee, feeling a little wounded in a tender ushered her upon this scene of preparation. point.

She

Mrs. Lancaster looked up from her writing to "Ah, that is right," said the relieved Mrs. say, "how do you do?" and Mrs. Burtonshaw Burtonshaw. "You will get on very well toheld out her hand to Zaidee. The girl's imme- gether, I am sure. I am taking a great many diate interest in that dearest distant Mary books to Mary, you see, my dear; and Mrs. had won Mrs. Burtonshaw's heart. Lancaster is sending her one, a very good one. She is a dear, sensible child; she loves good books."

"Well dear, are you ready? We start tomorrow," said this brisk little lady, who was carefully coating a pretty writing case with cover after cover of silver paper. "I must see your things, you know, if they are suitable; and you will want a great many wraps, for the journey; it will take us more than a week to get there. By the by you have never told me your Christian name!"

The blood rushed to Zaidee. Vivian's face in a glow of shame. She said " Elizabeth," in a

"Now, Zaidee, with her wild imagination, could not be said to love good books; but, nevertheless, had read them in emergencies, when nothing else was to be had; so she looked with interest at the rich Russia cover, brave with much gilding, and was disposed to think that Mary must be a most fortunate girl.

"I have something to say to Miss Francis, said Mrs. Lancaster, rising. "Mrs. Disbrowe,

of course, had no right either to object or to echoing stones-everything was full of delight sanction; but it is a serious thing going to Zaidee. Her young frame and open heart abroad. I should like to communicate with threw off the weariness and annoyances of the your friends. journey. The novelty and difference from all Zaidee made no answer. She never even she had known before did not jar upon fixed raised her eyes-and it was only by the deep habits in her case, but were so many additional color rushing to her face, that it was apparent pleasures; and Zaidee leaned back in a corner she had heard the question. of the malleposte, or sat on a bench in the

"Were they unkind to you, my dear? Is river steamer, silent, looking out of herself that why you are so unwilling to have them with those dark gleaming eyes of hers, not spoken of? asked kind Mrs. Burtonshaw. aware that she was travelling, but only aware They were very kind to me," said Zaidee, of the noble panorama which glided past her, hurriedly; so kind that I never knew I was hill after hill, and town on town. She was too a burden to them, till-till I found it out; and much absorbed to have time for talking, but now they would rather keep me than let me fortunately it was not difficult to listen to Mrs. labour for myself; -that is why they must not Burtonshaw while she gazed on everything be told; for I will never be a burden on them around her. So Mrs. Burtonshaw, finding so again.' good a listener, was led to tell Zaidee a great deal of her family history, and had not yet got the slightest hint of the young stranger's secret in return.

Mrs. Lancaster put down her pen, and considered. Well, that is a reason", said Mrs. Lancaster. Come here, my child, and tell me their name, and all about them; and I will My sister Maria Anna and I were married promise not to write." about the same time, my dear," said Mrs BurBut Zaidee was not to be persuaded. The tonshaw, as they jolted along over German two ladies could get nothing from her but a high-roads, up and down, with a team of four repetition of what she had already said. Mrs. straggling horses, and a postilion in blue and Burtonshaw, if she had no head for poetry, had silver. The interieur of the diligence contained a feminine respect for a mystery. "She will two other passengers, but they were wrapped tell me, I dare say, when we are by ourselves," in the deafness of their Germanity, and knew said the good lady, with innocent complacency. no English. My good Mr. Burtonshaw was And Zaidee was vexed with no more questions a great deal older than I was, and died many that night.

CHAP. XIX.-GOING AWAY.

baby you ever saw, young man. EveryHe is a student at

years ago. My son was just born then, and his father only lived long enough to give him his name. Some people think it an odd name,' continued the good lady; "to me it is a very The next morning Zaidee assisted at the pretty one. He is called Sylvester, my dear. packing of a great many trunks and cases laden He was the most beautiful with the aforesaid presents and with the per- and now he is a very fine sonal possessions of Mrs. Burtonshaw, and had body admires my Sylvo. her own little box wondered over and commen- Stuttgart, which is not very far from where we ted on, to her small satisfaction. But Zaidee are going. You shall see him by-and-by; and forgot all these minor mortifications, when the I think if I could see Sylvo married to Mary next morning, with many farewells and God Cumberland, I should be quite willing to die." bless you's herself and her patroness drove off Zaidee, who knew neither Sylvo nor Mary from the door of Mrs. Lancaster. "I will never Cumberland, withdrew her eyes for a moment see you again, my dear; my health is not what from those mangel-wurzel fields. This sort of it used to be," said the one old lady to the story-telling was of the greatest interest to her. other. We are getting old, but for all that I By way of testifying her attention, she raised hope to come back to you yet," answered the her shining, animated eyes to the narrator's cheery voice of Mrs. Burtonshaw; but Zaidee face.

saw Mrs. Lancaster shake her head as she stood "And Maria Anna married Mr. Cumberland," with her cloak wrapped about her in the thresh-continued Mrs. Burtonshaw. "She was always old of her own door. the cleverest, my dear; but when we were both Zaidee herself was carefully wrapped up in young, I looked better than she did. People the shawls and mantles of her kind companion; used to say the clever one' and the pretty and there followed after that six days of dreamy one,' when they wanted to distinguish us-we enjoyment, such as she had never known be- were the two Misses Essex then-from each fore. She felt none of the discomforts which other. Mr Cumberland is rich, but he has a Mrs. Burtonshaw complained of. Those rumbl- great many fancies-and I cannot say that ing diligences, rattling along through unknown Maria Anna is quite free of them herself; so countries, where every peasant, waiting on the first and last they have been a very changeable roadside to see the coach go by, was like a household, I can tell you, which makes it all figure in a picture to the fresh-hearted child-the greater wonder that my dear love, Mary, those famous rivers, which she bowed to meet, should be such a sensible child. Mr. Cumberas if great personages were presented to her- land is a very troublesome man. He does not those old quaint towns, whose gleaming lights hold by his principles, you see, my dear. He it was so pleasant to see, when out of the still is always adopting a new system, and does the night roads the travellers dashed in upon their strangest things sometimes. He sold his place

in the country-a very handsome place, in a nervously, arranging Zaidee's dress as if she beautiful quarter-and went and bought a were a child. "Are you very tired? Now, cottage in Wales, for some fancy he took-that that is right, you look quite bright again, and we ought to follow Nature; and then I found we are very near home." my sweet Mary with chopped hands and pat- First a few straggling lights, then a great tens, trudging about a little farm-yard after a old heavy gateway opening upon a narrow Welsh dairy-maid-feeding poultry, and doing street of antique houses with sharp gables, and all sorts of things--and Maria Anna actually a great slope of roof, and then with a great giving in to him, and praising Nature to the dash and noise into a stony market-place, the skies, though I never heard that she milked Platz of the free city of Ulm. Zaidee could the cow. Well, that would not do; and then see, at every turn they took, a great dark Mr. Cumberland became very much disgusted tower looming over the houses, and just as near with the Celts, and vowed there was neither in- at one point as at another; but now her wandustry, nor honesty, nor one thing nor another, dering attention was recalled by the lights except among the Saxons; so what did he do close at hand, flashing into the carriage, by but start off poste-haste for Germany, to live German kinsfolk waving salutations to the among the true Teutonic race, as he called it. German travellers in the interieur, and by a They have been living here a whole year, in a bronzed English face, young and plentifully little out-of-the-way town; and as it is three decorated with beard, smiling a broad welcome months since I left them, I cannot tell what to Mrs. Burtonshaw. "That is my Sylvo! there new order of things there may be now. I don't is the carriage to take us home!" cries the old live with them, you know, my dear, but I do lady, her anxiety disappearing in joyful excitelove to see Sylvo with his cousin, and I spend ment; and the next moment Zaidee, in amaze, most of my time beside her. Maria Anna has is hurriedly handed out upon the rough stony got a great deal of non-I mean she has some pavement, and the journey is at an end. new ideas about education, and plagued me sadly to bring out a young lady to be a companion to Mary. I never should have thought of it but for you; and Mary will be so glad to have you with her, I am sure.

CHAP XX.-FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

"A young lady, Sylvo, to be brought up with Mary. How is my dear child?" said Mrs. Burtonshaw, as her son's astonished glance fell It did not strike simple Zaidee that, in the upon Zaidee. Zaidee somewhat benumbed frequent repetition of this certainty, there was with fatigue and cold, confused by the sudden a lurking doubt of not being quite sure that descent from the coach, dazzled by the lights, Mary would be glad of her companion. Mrs. and a little nervous, in expectation of this first Burtonshaw, indeed, grew rather uneasy and appearance among the strangers who were anxious this afternoon, as the short day dark- henceforth to be her guardians-was standing ened, and the night fell upon their journey; apart by herself, looking at the vast shadow of and once or twice speculated uncomfortably of the Domkirche, which was visible here as how she could dispose of Zaidee, should this un- everywhere else, but conscious of the inquiring fortunate doubt come true. In the mean time looks of Sylvester Burtonshaw, and very contheir cumbrus vehicle rolled on through the scious that she was alone-alone! The word darkness-the long loose traces of the horses, seemed to have double significance in this the whip and the shouts of the postilion, making strange foreign place, where everything was a great din in the noiseless country and quiet novel which she looked at, and everything was night. Zaidee leaned back in her corner, and unintelligible that she heard. with a meditative pleasure looked out upon the "Get in, mother. I'll look after the boxes," trees growing less and less visible in the was the brief response of Sylvester; and Zaidee twilight, and anon standing out black against was hurried after Mrs. Burtonshaw into a the silvery light when the moon rose. Then strange musty vehicle, which forthwith began the coach lumbered over a wooden bridge, and to rumble out of the Platz, and through one of there was a clear glimmer of water, broad and the narrow lines of streets which opened from calm-an inland stream, with a strong current it. With a great jar and clank, as of rusty and bare banks of marshy grass. Mrs. Burton- iron, they rolled along through the darkness, shaw, who had been dozing, woke up, and where Zaidee could hear the voice of Mrs. Bur looked out. That is the Danube, my love," said tonshaw, running on in a perpetual stream of Mrs. Burtonshaw; "we will soon be there." question, but could see neither mother nor son. The Danube! Zaidee started, and looked back; After passing under another great gateway, but, after all, it was only a glimmer of water the carriage came to an abrupt halt. A door shining under the moon. Then there came was thrown open, and Sylvester Burtonshaw another long course through these rugged leaped out of the vehicle, and his mother cried roads, where the trees threw up their black out for Mary, and exclaimed how thankful she shadows against the moonlight, and Zaidee, in was to be at home.

her musing girlish reverie, had almost crossed And the forlorn Zaidee, for whom there was the line which divides waking dreams from the no welcome, followed into a long lofty apartdreams of sleep. She was roused by the hand ment, with closed folding-doors on either side of of her companion straightening the edge of her it, and a stove at the further end, through the bonnet and folding back her mantle. "We little open door of which there shone an intense shall soon be there," said Mrs. Burtonshaw, glow of red, like a furnace. This great room

was covered with matting, and furnished with and weeps a few tears to herself, silently rechill formal lines of furniture, cold marble membering how the Bible speaks of "a stranger tables, and gilded chairs, which seemed only and a sojourner.' Turning her head a little as made to range themselves against that long she weeps, Zaidee is suddenly awed into comwhite line of wall. Before the stove, however, posure by that great shadow rising upon the was spread a large fringed square of Turkey sky-the shadow everywhere near at hand, and carpet, on which stood a round table hospitably present in the little circle of this town-the furnished, and a variety of easy chairs and great stately cathedral tower. The tears dry footstools, well polished glimmering wood, and of their own accord in her eyes, and she looks ruddy silken damask, lighted up with a good- with a silent reverence upon that vast blue sized lamp on the table, and the red glow from sky, and this great hoary presence rising into the fire. As she still stood apart by herself, it- an old, old silent worshipper of Him who half-way down the long apartment, nobody be- made heaven and earth; and so, very quiet, stowing yet any notice upon her loneliness, and with a hush of awe and wonder upon her, Zaidee's dazzled eyes sought eagerly for Mary, Zaidee Vivian says her prayers--the prayers of

the sweetest child that ever was born;—a fair- a child-and goes to sleep. haired girl, with that pure white-and-red com- In the meantime Mary Cumberland, with plexion which is so distinctly English-with whom awe and reverence are unknown emothick curls hanging on her pretty white neck-tions, has followed Zaidee, with eyes in which with blue eyes, and a stout well-proportioned good humor is mingled with some derision; figure, who is at present busily employed in and while her father abounds in inquiries, Who disrobing Mrs. Burtonshaw. Is that Mary? is she?-where did you find her?-and Mrs. But, alas! if appearances are true, it never can Cumberland exclaims, Do tell me; I am be Zaidee Vivian's confidential friend. The sure that child has a story"-Mary, not scrupale lady behind, who has gone back already to pling to interrupt both, asks, "Did you bring her chair, and who has a book laid open upon her for me, aunt Elizabeth? What am I to her knee, whose hair is arranged after a classic do with a companion? I get on very well fashion, and who has no cap to keep warm those without one. Was it for what mamma calls poor thin cheeks of hers, is, without doubt, my studies? But I shall take care I have all Maria Anna, Mrs. Burtonshaw's sister; and that is necessary, aunt. And what am I to do there is Mr. Cumberland, shrugging his thin with this girl?" shoulders, looking about him with eyes full of "On the contrary, I am much obliged to you, curiosity, and the impatience of a garrulous Elizabeth," says Mrs. Cumberland. "I can nature. Sylvester Burtonshaw, six feet high, see this is a dear little enthusiast by her eyes; bronzed and bearded, and his very little mother, and now I shall be able to carry out my ideas. who cannot deny herself gay ribbons even in Where did you find her, dear ?" this wintry journey, make up the party. Brought any news with you, sister ElizaEverybody is asking questions, no one answer- beth?" asked the fidgety papa. "What do ing; and Zaidee, half-way down the room, with you say to the great revolution which has taken her cold hand upon the colder marble of a little place in the economics of the country since you side-table, stands motionless like a cloud or a left us? No such bills of mortality in England shadow, throwing out upon them the light of now, I promise you. Not quite to your taste, those gleaming restless eyes. eh, sister Burtonshaw? Sylvo, there, the When she is remembered and introduced, she great beef-eating rascal, won't hear of it. Ay, is received with considerable kindness, but a we'll see you all out, the whole unnatural race good deal of surprise; and it is very soon sug- of you. We live by the pure regulation of nagested that Miss Francis, after her long jour- ture now, Maria Anna and I." ney, will be glad to go to rest. Miss Francis "It suits my constitution," said the lady is very glad to go to rest, and to leave this languidly. How can anything delicate, anygreat room, with its one warm point of light, thing ethereal, survive in connection with the and its family party, for the little closet within gross eating and drinking we have all been used Mrs. Burtonshaw's bedroom, where they say she to? With roots, and fruits, and pure water, is to sleep. There is a fire in the stove in Mrs. what could any one desire more?" Burtonshaw's room, which, nevertheless, looks The amazed stranger turned wonderingly very large and cold, with its little bed innocent from one to another." I don't understand you of curtains; and Zaidee has to ascend a few Mr. Cumberland. What can you mean, Maria steps to reach the little chamber in the wall Anna? There's no revolution in England. appropriated to herself. The little room proves, What are the children laughing at? I can't however, to be more a chamber in the roof than understand what you all mean. in the wall, and is lighted by one of those "England is a conservative country, and strange little attic windows, of which there are slow to adopt improvements," said Mr. Cumever so many in the long deep slope of the roof. berland pompously. We must come in the Looking out from it after the unintelligible might of experience, the infallible demonstraGerman maid has disappeared with her little tion of health and length of days. I am thanktray, the stranger turns her wistful eyes to-ful to say, sister Burtonshaw, that there have wards the friendly stars, which look down upon always been some Englishmen before their age. her with compassion-the only eyes in all this Whatever you may have seen in our benighted strange country that have seen her face before-country, you will find nothing suggestive of the

genus carnivora in this humble house of mine."

Now Mary Cumberland was accustomed al46 Don't touch the pie, Aunt Elizabeth-ready, with the calmest self-possession, to exdon't!" cried Mary; while aunt Elizabeth, ercise a very distinct and positive will of her knife and fork in hand, looked round her in own. Obedience was not a quality of hers; and dismay. the want of it gave rather too much sharpness "What do you all mean?" cried the hungry and distinctness of outline to the character of traveller, faltering. "Is it not a pigeon-pie, this young lady-which, after all, was a very then? Why must I not touch it, Mary? and good character in the main. what is Sylvo laughing at? and what in the world do you all mean?"

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"How can I tell, aunt? I only just looked at her," said Mary. "But I did not want a Let ine assist you, my dear sister. I have companion; I was a great deal better alone." the warmest satisfaction in offering this whole- "Don't say so, my love," said Mrs. Burtonsome fare to you," said the philosophical head shaw. "You want a young friend. I know of the house. "So many sanguinary meals you want a young friend; and you must try to have been discussed at my table; but we will like her, for your poor aunt's sake." make amends-we will make amends." Well, I will, aunt Elizabeth," said Mary, With anything but the full and generous con- slightly shrugging her shoulders; fidence with which she would have received it, why." had it been the pigeon-pie which her well-appe- Poor little soul, I have brought her among tised imagination expected, Mrs. Burtonshaw strangers," said Mrs. Burtonshaw. She has jealously inspected the contents of her plate. no friends-she is quite alone; and I promised It's potatoes," cried Mrs. Burtonshaw, turn- that you would like her my love. did, that I ing it over doubtfully with her fork. Then might bring her here."

"but tell me

there was a pause. "It's turnips!" said the These are all reasons why one should be good lady in a somewhat louder tone. Another sorry for her, aunt," said Mary, who was of a pause. "There's cabbage, I declare!" cried logical turn of mind. But to like her-well,

the excited traveller. Then, after a solemn never mind. Mamma is sure to be quite in interval, "It's a mess!" said Mrs. Burton- raptures with her, and I will do what I can. shaw indignantly, and pushed her plate away. She looks what mamma calls interesting, aunt. Mr. Cumberland commenced a little lecture I don't like interesting people; I am best in exposition of his new principles. Mrs. pleased with common people, like aunt Burton Cumberland lamented that people should waste shaw and me."

their emotions on such a thing as a dinner. The only answer to this was a silent hug from The young people laughed; but Mrs. Burton- Mrs. Burtonshaw. Mrs. Cumberland would

CHAPTER XXI.—A YOUNG CRITIC,

shaw's indignation was not to be put down so have made it an embrace, and done it gracefuleasily. "I have borne a great deal," said the ly; but her sister had no thought of how it good lady, emphatically, rising from her chair. would look, when, after three months' absence, I've put up with all your freaks and your she took her favorite into her loving arms. fancies, and never said a word to them; but I don't intend to put up with this. Thank Providence, there's the Kron-prinzen left! Call "And so Miss Francis does not know any that poor girl, Sylvo-I won't have her starved German, poor dear-and has never been abroad either-and come and see to your mother's com-before-and, of course, would like to see the fort, you great unfeeling boy!" town? If I were able, my love, I should like, Yes, the new system was too refined for Mrs. above all things, to revive my own first impresBurtonshaw. Mr. Cumberland, with a groan, sions by seeing yours, but I am not able. Mary saw a succession of little trays arriving from must take you to the cathedral; and I am sure the kitchen, containing something else than you will long, as I do, to see it restored to the roots; and it required all the caresses and per- beautiful religion for which it was built." suasions of Mary to mollify the offended lady. "I knew your father was full of fancies, my love," said Mrs. Burtonshaw, when her niece Ah, Sylvo! when you look to the higher went with her to her own apartment; "but I sentiments of our nature-that love of the beaunever could have believed him so far gone as tiful which seeks the superlative of everything this-and Maria Anna to give in to him! Of course you're looking pale, my darling-I knew you will see how poor a thing it is to speak of Protestant or Catholic," sighed Mrs. Cumberyou would-you always do when I go away; land. "Heaven be praised, I have no preju. and to think of them starving you, my poor dices! I can look with equal candor on one and another; and what I speak of, my dear boy, is the aesthetics of the matter-the fitness of things."

child!"

What, aunt! You a Protestant, to say s0 much," cried young Burtonshaw.

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"They have not starved me yet," said the laughing Mary; "and now that you are done with being angry, aunt Elizabeth, have you not "Well, I thank Providence, for my part, I brought any news from home?" know nothing of aesthetics," cried Mrs. BurtonYes, boxes full," said Mrs. Burtonshaw, shaw; but if there is one thing in the world I restored to good humour by the idea. "But hate, it is that Pope and all his crew. Why, Mary, dear, tell me first-Did you look at poor they're in the Bible, Maria Anna! everything little Miss Francis? Shall you like her? I but the name.'

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am sure she will make you a nice companion. "There's a very good principle in their fasts, Are you pleased with her, my love?"