the sentence.

She hid her face in her handkerchief, and her frame was agitated in the struggle to repress her sobs.

Mr. Covert took this opportunity to withdraw, stepping silently and stealthily, with something of the cat-like motion of the tiger.

CHAPTER X.

THE ARCH TRAITOR.

THE impression which Covert's first visit had produced, will give the intelligent reader an idea of the effect made by subsequent interviews. Miriam began to see the reverse of the medal. For the first time, dawned upon the astonished girl, the hard, practical, worldly view of Gerald's conduct. She began to doubt if Gerald were right in regarding Freeman, Anticant, Owen, and other reformers, as model men and true apostles of humanity. Mr. Covert with his usual skill, had adroitly chosen the proper moment for withdrawing,

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immediately after the powerful sensation which his words had produced on Miriam's mind. He wisely judged that Miriam's own reflections would be the best aid he could enlist towards attaining his object. The next day he came again and repeated the dose, and so on, in subsequent visits, making it stronger and stronger, as he saw Miriam gradually yielding to the conviction of his arguments.

When he had sufficiently prepared her mind, he ventured to touch gently on the subject of Lady Augusta. This he knew to be very delicate ground, and he trod it carefully. He dwelt lightly on her personal character, of which he professed to know but little; but he said very much about the great influence possessed by her father, and his power of advancing Gerald's worldly fortunes. Then he very skilfully introduced the proposed matrimonial alliance, which had been entered into so many years ago by both parents.

"My dear young lady," he said, "I may here wound your feelings quite unintention

ally, for as you know, I am speaking in the interest of Gerald, and am trying to fulfil my duty both as a relative and friend, and Christian teacher, in endeavouring to reconcile the wishes of the father, with the true interests of the son. It is at least my duty to request you, and to enable you, to look at this important matter from every possible point of view. We both revere the memory of Lady Lindor, do we not? You loved her, I am sure, as a daughter. You anticipated filling the place of a daughter towards her. Well, reflect. Why are you not at this moment the wife of the man whom you love so dearly and disinterestedly? Do not mistake me, my dear young lady. I do not put this question in any spirit of reproof, or unchristian sense of superiority. No, no, far from it. We are all mortal, all sinners; we have all need to forgive each other as we hope to be forgiven. I, though a clergyman, am no Aristarchus. I will not tell you, you have not committed a fault, for that would be an untruth; but as I

am acquainted with all the circumstances, no one knows better the extenuation of your fault. Well, I say, why are not you the wife of Gerald ?"

"That is a question which I cannot answer," replied Miriam. "It involves a

confidence which is not mine."

"Nor do I wish you to break any confidence," replied Covert "I will myself endeavour to answer this question. We know how Gerald loved his mother. Lady Lindor

was well aware of the affection of her son for you. That sainted lady who, I have heard, had herself had a disappointment of the heart, knew all your worth-yes, my dear young lady, I must repeat it without any intention of flattery-your personal attractions were obvious to all who saw you, and your mental and moral qualities, your accomplishments, your vast superiority to your humble station, all these things must have been fully appreciated by a person like Lady Lindor-from the many opportunities she had of seeing and