CHAPTER XVI.

"'Twas a love that strangely gather'd strength thro' every change of season,

That strangely grew to weave itself at last thro' every

thought."

C. W. BENNETT.

He had not met the little friend of his childhood for five years, but he had not forgotten her nor she him.

Whenever she came to Mordaunt Hall during this time, he had been absent at school, but she had never failed to inquire after him, and Alice, who was become excessively proud of her charge, told her what a good, clever, and loving boy he was. She took the greatest pleasure in hearing him praised, for she was very much interested in him as an orphan boy, who had only his own

exertions to depend upon in the world. For she, adored by and adoring her father, and living upon the happiest possible terms with her mother, thought that to be an orphan must be the greatest misfortune that could happen to any one, and would have found this cause enough for the interest and pity she felt.

But she had not forgotten the boy who had drawn her out of the water, and who, during the fortnight afterwards had been allowed to shew her such unwearied devotion. She was very young, but the impression had remained permanent.

It was Christmas now, and the Chandoses were to spend it at the Hall. Calantha, as far as lay in her power, had contrived that Gideon should be absent at the times of the family meetings; he was of an age now to suffer so much from the proscription to which she knew he would be exposed, that she could not bear to subject him to it.

When these meetings happened in the holidays, taking advantage of the means afforded by Mr. Chandos's liberality, she used to board him

at Mr. Prior's, much to the satisfaction of every party concerned but herself.

But now, after Mr. Chandos had taken so kind an interest in his fate, she began to think that he, no longer a mere school-boy, should be again introduced to his notice; for, whenever Mr. Chandos had been down at Mordaunt Hall, he, like his little daughter, had revived the subject, and had appeared to enter with much interest into Calantha's plans for his provision in life.

The Church still appeared to them both his proper destination. In deciding upon which, it is true, like many others, they studied rather the advantage which that benignant mother holds out to those who, with no worldly claim to the dignity of serving her, devote themselves to this service, than any peculiar indication or vocation upon the part of the boy for the sacred calling.

It seemed so secure a shelter for him from all the difficulties of his position. As a clergyman, he was at once admitted among people of education upon terms of equality; no pedigree, no advantages of blood or station, were necessary

here; Mr. Chandos promised to bestow upon him a small living in his gift, and to pay the expenses of his university education, and thus he would be provided for and safe.

Gratitude for the service he had done his child, but far more the most sincere admiration of Calantha's generous exertions, and compassion for the difficulties and obstructions she had met with in carrying out her undertaking, were the motives which led to this liberal conduct on the part of Mr. Chandos, who, indeed, had fortune ample and to spare.

He had no child but his daughter, and he had settled his large estates upon her. He was a man of too sensitive a character to take pleasure in much general association with the world, so that his expenses were small in proportion to his income. His sole object in life seemed to be the education of his daughter, to which he devoted all the powers of his most accomplished mind. He seemed to live for her: for her he travelledfor her he read for her sake he encouraged

Lucilla to keep up that communication with

society which she loved, and an introduction to which, in a position so high as that which his Kitty was born to occupy, he knew to be indispensable to propriety.

Lucilla, light-hearted, animated, clever, and determined as ever, carried on these things in her own way. The parts, indeed, of husband and wife seemed reversed. She lived for the external, he for the internal life. The internal life was that alone which would afford any interest to him. Disappointed in the object of an almost mad idolatry-disenchanted and awakened when that phantom of delight became inseparably his own, and proved herself, in the everyday life, so entirely wanting in all that he prized above measure in woman, his heart had closed upon himself, until once more called to feeling and life by the claims of his little daughter.

From the time Kitty was eighteen months old, or earlier, this little enchanting creature had laid hold of his heart, and from that hour to his dying day he loved her with that rare strength of passion which arises when those, united by the tender ties of family affection, find in each other