was invited to go to London by a distant relation who resided there. She did not hesitate a moment to accept the invitation, as she hoped to meet Farquhar in society, and everything was arranged for her journey. Teresa dreaded her departure; for in her kindness, she found her only comfort; but Teresa was schooled to bear patiently all that might befall her, and no murmur passed her lips.

A few days before that fixed for her departure, Catherine brought a paper to Teresa, and placing it on the table, she said, Although I hope to see Farquhar in London, I go there with a heavy heart. I was born near this place, and it is very dear to me, teeming with pleasant associations; and you, Teresa-I grieve to leave you, for my affection for you is no common one. I have brought a farewell to these scenes and to yourself for your persual, being the first poetry which I ever perpetrated."

So saying, she placed the following lines in Teresa's hand, and ran out of the room.

Ye sunny glades,
Ye verdant shades,

Ye mountain sides,
Where health abides,

Farewell-a long farewell!

Thou lovely stream,

Like hope's brief dream,
Ye emerald meads

And waving reeds,

Farewell—a sad farewell!

And thou, dear friend!

Our joy must end!—
With heart-heav'd sighs
And streaming eyes
I bid thee, love, farewell!
Thy holy blessing
My woe repressing,

Says we shall meet

In heaven to greet;

Till then, belov'd, farewell!

The very day after this, Catherine received a letter from her sister, who was married to a man of large fortune, and had lived abroad for many years on account of her health. In this letter she informed Catherine that she was on her way to London, and had already secured a house, and that she should expect her sister to come and live with her immediately on her arrival.

Catherine was beside herself with delight. She was fondly attached to her sister, and had not seen her for many long years.

The wished-for day arrived, and Catherine was clasped to her sister's breast. Very shortly afterwards she wrote to Teresa, saying, that her sister wanted a governess for her little girl, and intreating her (Teresa) to accept the situation; everything was speedily arranged, and Teresa became an inmate with Mrs. Bolton, in Portman Square.

CHAPTER V.

"But O my heart-truth would not seal
The flatt ries of life's early day;
And sanguine hope and youthful zeal,
And promis'd joys have flown away.

Yet, though my earthly hopes are dead,
And storms upon my pathway rise ;
Though peace has long this bosom fled,
Faith points a way to yonder skies.”

H. K. WHITE.

WINTER and spring passed, and summer returned again, and Teresa was now happier than she had been for years. She was treated with the most considerate kindness by every member of the family, and allowed as much leisure as she could wish.

Mr. and Mrs. Bolton were a truly happy and well-assorted couple. There was no frowning,

quarrelling, or bickering between them, and their behaviour to each other was the same in private as before strangers.

Mrs. Bolton was a lively, brilliant creature, very much resembling her sister Catherine, with this difference, that Catherine was subject to fits of low spirits, and Mrs. Bolton's gaiety never deserted her. She became almost as fond of Teresa as her sister was, and strove by every kind attention to soften the cares of her situation. Teresa's pupil, Lucy Bolton, was just fourteen, and the exact image of her Mamma, -gay, thoughtless, affectionate, and generous.

But still Teresa declined appearing in the drawing-room when any society assembled there, and her seclusion was almost as great as it had been in Wales. Catherine passed much of her time in Teresa's room, and was continually lamenting the non-appearance of Farquhar in London.

One day Catherine Brand came into the school-room, exclaiming, "Oh! Teresa, you must positively oblige us to-night. We are going to