CHAPTER VII.

It was about two months after the party that Mrs. Craven, one morning, called Margaret into her dressing room, and said, "I have had some news this morning which you will like to hear, Margaret; guess what it is."

Margaret looked up, wondering much what it might be. Mrs. Craven went on: "I have had a letter from your aunt Ellen, and she is coming to see us."

Margaret burst into tears.

Why, Margaret," said her mother, "what a strange girl you are; I thought you would be so pleased."

"So I am," sobbed Margaret; "but oh! mamma," she said, "I'm so afraid aunt Ellen will never love me any more."

"Never love you any more, child; why

what do you mean?" said her mother, regarding her with a look of astonishment.

"Not if you tell her how-how wicked I have been since I have been here," said Margaret, "and how Ada and I quarrel sometimes."

"Then, why have you been so naughty?" said her mother; "yes, you certainly do behave badly, very badly sometimes, Margaret."

"Oh! I don't know," said Margaret, still sobbing, "sometimes I can't help it; but you won't tell aunt Ellen, will you mamma?” "Not if you promise to behave better for the future," said Mrs. Craven.

"I will, indeed I will," said Margaret, throwing her arms round her mother's neck, and kissing her; "oh! thank you, mamma. When will aunt Ellen come?"

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"In a few weeks," replied Mrs. Craven. "I believe you think a great deal more of your aunt Ellen than you do of me, Margaret. There, go away now, and do not make any disturbances with Ada before she comes.

"She is a strange child,” said the mother,

as Margaret closed the door after her," and certainly has more feeling than I supposed, after all."

Margaret now made an abundance of good resolutions, and determined so to behave during her aunt's visit that she should be unable to discover any alteration in her; but, alas! these resolutions were made in her own strength, consequently they were broken almost as soon as formed, and every night conscience told her of some fresh transgression, or some new violation of the rules she had laid down for herself.

At length Mrs. Shirley arrived, and for the first two or three days nothing occurred to mar the happiness which their meeting occasioned to both; but as aunt Ellen became by degrees to be more and more regarded as one of the family, little circumstances. occurred now and then which induced her to fear that things were not with Margaret quite as she had hoped to find them. Ada lost the desire of showing herself off to the best advantage as to a stranger, and Margaret, unaccustomed to appear before her aunt

as anything but what she really was, grew careless in keeping the constant watch over her words and actions which she had at first done, and consequently often committed herself in Mrs. Shirley's presence in ways which she was afterwards sorry for.

Mrs. Shirley noticed all in silence. She loved Margaret far too fondly to wish to judge her harshly, or to blame her undeservedly, while this very love made her most anxious, if she were indeed wrong, to endeavour, as far as lay in her power, to guide her once more in the path which she so earnestly desired she might tread.

Mrs. Shirley had been in the house about a week, when one morning, Miss Gregory having, on account of her great attention, dismissed Margaret a quarter of an hour before Ada, she entered the library where her aunt usually spent her mornings, and with a pleased countenance said that she was come to stay with her until luncheon time. Mrs. Shirley, who was always glad to have her by her side, was not less pleased; she laid aside her book, and taking up her work,

said, "Now then, Margaret, dear, we can have a nice chat together; what is that you are doing?"

"It is a bead purse, aunty, which Miss Gregory has taught me how to make; do you like it? I am so fond of bead work."

"It is very pretty," said her aunt; "is the purse for your mamma?"

"Oh no, not for mamma," replied Margaret, "she has several purses. I cannot tell you whom it is for yet, aunt Ellen," she added, looking up with a smile.

They had not chatted thus many minutes, before Susan entered the room and said, "Miss Margaret, your mamma has sent me to tell you that you have forgotten to put any fresh flowers in the drawing-room, this morning; and she expects some ladies to call rather early to-day."

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Very well, Susan," replied Margaret, in no very gracious tone.

"Shall I ask Robins to bring you in some flowers, Miss?" said Susan.

"No; I like to get them myself best," replied Margaret, in the same tone. She was