sound of the closing of the parlour door, she flew down stairs, joined Mrs. Winthrop just as she was saying, half sobbing, to her children," Come, boys-I am poor now, for my hope is all gone;" and walking a little distance, till a sharp angle in the road concealed them from the house, she said, "Polly, here is a hundred dollars. I know the debt my father owed you amounts to a good deal more now, but this is all I have,— take it. It is not probable that I shall ever be able to pay the rest, but I shall never forget that I owe it."

Mrs. Winthrop was for a moment dumb with surprise; then bursting into tears of gratitude and joy, she would have overwhelmed Jane with thanks, but she stopped her, saying, "No, Polly, I have only done what was right. I have two favours to beg of you-say nothing to any body in the world, of your having received this money from me; and," added she, faltering," do not, again, tell the story of the" injustice, she would have said, but the word choked her. "I mean, do not say, to any one, that my parents did not pay you."

"Oh! Miss Jane," replied the grateful creature, "I'll mind every thing you tell me, just as much as if it was spoken to me right out of Heaven."

And we have reasons to believe, she was quite as faithful to her promise as could have been expected; for she was never known to make any communication on the subject, except that, when some of her rustic neighbours expressed their surprise at the sudden and inexplicable change in her circumstances, she would say, "She came by it honestly, and by the honesty of some people too, who she guessed, though they did it secretly, would be rewarded openly." And when she heard Jane Elton's name mentioned, she would roll up her eyes and say, "That if every body knew as much as she

did, they would think that girl was an angel upon earth.” These oracular hints were, perhaps, not quite so much heeded as Polly expected; at any rate, she was never tempted to disclose the grounds of her opinion.

Jane had a difficult task in reconciling her friend Mary to her disappointment. While she felt a secret delight in the tried rectitude of her favourite, she could not deny herself the indulgence of a little repining." If you had but waited, Jane, till Mr. Lloyd came home, he would have advanced the money with all his heart.”

“Yes, but Mary, you must recollect Mr. Lloyd is not to return these six weeks; and, in the mean time, what was to become of the poor woman and her starving children? No, Mary, we must deal justly while we have it in our power. Is it not your great Mr. Wesley who says, 'It is safe to defer our pleasures, but never to delay our duties?"

"It seems to me, Jane," replied Mary, "you pick fruit from every good tree, no matter whose vineyard it grows in. Well, I believe you have done right; but I shall tell the story to Mr. Evertson and Mrs. Harvey with a heavy heart."

"Tell them nothing," said Jane, "but that I had an unexpected call for the money, and beg them to mention nothing of the past, for I will not unnecessarily provoke aunt Wilson."

"Jane," said Mary earnestly, "you must not deny me the satisfaction of telling how you have laid out the money."

"No," replied Jane, "you cannot have that pleasure without telling why I was obliged thus to lay it out.—Oh," added she with more emotion than she had yet shown, "I have never blamed my father that he left me penniless; had he left me the inheritance of a good name, I would not have exchanged it for all the world can give !"

Mary consoled her friend as well as she was able, and then reluctantly parted from her, to perform her disagreeable duty. Mr. Evertson was exceedingly disappointed; he said he had an offer of a very good assistant, who could furnish more money than he expected from Jane; he had preferred Jane Elton, for no sum could outweigh her qualifications for the station he wished her to fill. He was, however, obliged to her for so promptly informing him of her determination, as he had not yet sent a refusal to the person who had solicited the place.

Mrs. Harvey, not content with deploring, which she did sincerely, that she could not have Jane for an inmate, wondered what upon earth she could have done with a hundred dollars! and concluded "that it would be just like Jane Elton, though it would not be like any body else in the world, to pay one of her father's old debts with it." Will not our readers pardon Mary, if Mrs. Harvey inferred from the smile of pleasure that brightened her face, that she had sagaciously guessed the truth? Let that be as it may; all parties promised, and what is much more extraordinary, preserved secrecy; and all that was left of Jane's hopes and plans was the consciousness of having acted right-from right motives. Could any one have seen the peacefulness of her heart, he would have pronounced that consciousness a treasure that has no equivalent.

Thus our horoine, placed in circumstances which would have made some desperate, and most discontented; by 'keeping her heart with all diligence,' proved that 'out of it are the issues of life;' she was first resigned, and then happy. She was on an eminence of virtue, to which the conflicts and irritations of her aunt's family did not reach.

CHAPTER VIII.

It may be said of him, that Cupid hath clap'd him o' the shoulder, but I warrant him heart-whole.

AS YOU LIKE IT.

MORE than two years glided away without the occurrence of any incident in the life of our heroine that would be deemed worthy of record, by any persons less interested in her history than Mary Hull, or the writer of her simple annals. The reader shall therefore be allowed to pass over this interval, with merely a remark, that Jane had improved in mortal and immortal graces; that the development of her character seemed to interest and delight Mr. Lloyd almost as much as the progress of his own child, and that her uniform patience had acquired for her some influence over the bad passions of her aunt, whose rough points seemed to be a little worn by the continual dropping of Jane's virtues.

In this interval, Martha Wilson had made a stolen match with a tavern-keeper from a neighbouring village, and had removed from her mother's house, to display her character on a new stage, and in a worse light.

Elvira, at eighteen, was much the same as at sixteen, except, that the gayety of her spirits was somewhat checked by the apprehension (that seemed to have grown of late) that

Edward Erskine's affections, which had been vacillating for some time between her and her cousin, would finally preponderate in Jane's favour. It may appear singular, that the same person should admire both the cousins; but it must be remembered, that Edward Erskine was not (as our readers are) admitted behind the scenes; and it must be confessed, that he had not so nice a moral sense, as we hope they possess. He neither estimated the purity of Jane's character, as it deserved to be estimated, nor felt for the faults of Elvira the dislike they merited. Edward Erskine belonged to one of the best families in the county of His parents had lost several children in their infancy, and this boy alone remained to them-to become the sole object of their cares and fondness. He was naturally what is called 'good-hearted,' which we believe means thoughtlessly kind and unscrupulously generous. Flattery, and unlimited indulgence made him vain, selfish, and indolent. These qualities were, however, somewhat modified by a frank and easy temper, and sheltered by an uncommonly handsome exterior. Some of his college companions thought him a genius, for, though he was seldom caught in the act of studying, he passed through college without disgrace; this (for he certainly was neither a genius nor a necromancer) might be attributed in part to an aptness at learning, and an excellent memory; but chiefly to an extraordinary facility at appropriating to himself the results of the labours of others. He lounged through the prescribed course of law studies, and entered upon his professional career with considerable éclat. He had a rich and powerful voice; and it might be said of him, as of the chosen king of Israel that 'from the shoulders upwards, he was taller and fairer than any of his brethren.' These are qualifications never slighted by the vulgar; and which are said to be pass