exclaimed she, at length moving onward, "it will be useless to urge my poor uncle Edmund to more labours; they have already injured his health. Were he to open his Church once, he must do it always; to which he could not pledge himself. You know this was the objection given us by Mr. Oakley in the town, on whom we first called."

"True" cried Mr. Everard, and then uttering his usual challenge of " Well!" took out his tablets, and began to note down, "English Establishment, in the parishes of Elverton and Lowbridge, declines to open her churches on the week days. First reason-afraid of doing what is right once, for fear of doing right always. Second-tired of the wicked man constantly turning away from his wickedness.' Third-I have no third. What did that feaster, and no faster, Thornhill say? Did he give any reason why the spider only should lay up store during the week in Blowbridge Church?"

"No!" replied Geraldine, "but you hurried him— perhaps he may be prevailed upon to have one service during the week, and that will be something gained. I am sorry that you threw the whole blame of our visit on me, who merely wished to be your second; for the poor Rector has been so tormented by requests from ladies, respecting his religious opinions and duties, that he could not help complaining of them, and-" Geraldine stopped.

"Yes! yes! I heard the end," said Mr. Everard; "the Rector said that he had only admitted Miss Carrington, because she was too young, too pretty, and too well bred, to give him any alarm respecting religious advice. Poor Thornhill! he little thought, when we cantered up his glebe land, what machinations were in store for him. Et tu, Brute !'"

"The bishop! the bishop!" suddenly exclaimed Geraldine, "let us go to the bishop. He can command all these timid men to do their duty."

"Better ask Mrs. Bishop," said Mr. Everard drily.

"No, but seriously, Mr. Everard, what would be the result of an application to the bishop? You are very intimate at the palace."

"I am; and, therefore, can the better assure Miss Carrington that our Right Reverend Father in God would beg of her not to make herself ridiculous."

"Mr. Everard," said Geraldine warmly, "you are quite aware that I do not intend to put myself forward in the matter; and that I was your companion, not you mine, this morning. Tell me whether your friendship and influence with the bishop would not engage him to revive the ancient discipline of the Church?"

"No!" said Mr. Everard, "the bishop would propose nothing to his clergy, I am quite convinced; but, at the same time, I think he would co-operate, were they to come forward. He is a cautious, but a good man; and, had he not a worldly wife, and fashionable daughters, would have been an ornament to the Church. I have my plans, and my hopes, and, in the meantime, you must be satisfied to keep the festivals appointed by your Church in your own house, forming what congregation you can; only remember that the number must not exceed twenty-one."

"What am I to do after the departure of my uncle?" said Geraldine, after a long pause in the conversation. "I have often so much wished for a domestic chaplain, such as are only now to be found in the palaces of the bishops; and, when the office of tutor is joined to that of chaplain, in the families of our principal nobility. Surely, my father, who is so indulgent to me in every thing, would never refuse to myself and household this privilege."

VOL. I.-12

"Humph!" said the old gentleman, "I think prudence would suggest your selecting some man advanced in life, or the chaplain might perhaps become too interesting to the almost solitary heiress of Elverton Hall."

"Not in the least," said Geraldine, "for on that point I am completely a Catholic. I wish most fervently that our clergy were without either wives or families, as they are in that Church. I have become quite out of heart with the wives of our clergy; for they seem to me more frivolous, more worldly than many who have married men of the world. Perhaps I set too high a standard for these ladies. I wish them to be a set of 'Sisters of Charity,' and, by comparing them constantly with those devoted women, I become too exacting."

"And pray what do you know of Sisters of Charity?" said Mr. Everard.

"I know," replied Geraldine, "of the indefatigable labours of that community, as all those do who have visited the public institutions in Paris and Dublin for the relief of the sick and destitute; and I know that, at this moment, while we are congratulating ourselves on the prevalence of this south-westerly wind, which blows from us to the infected town, four of these Sisters' are in the hospital in Elverton, under the guidance and protection of Mr. Bernard, braving not only the fearful malady itself, but every fatigue and hardship that can offer violence to their natural feelings. Why are our clergymen's wives not like these?"

"Well! perhaps they would be as devoted," returned he, "but for the little Johnnies and Tommies at home."

"Exactly so," cried Geraldine; "but the evil would scarcely be one, even if the wife not only began but ended her charity at home, provided (and the Vicarage crossed her mind) that she did

not hang like a mill-stone round her husband's neck, and prevent his devoted usefulness to his flock. Mr. Everard, I know many good wives, but I know few good wives for our clergy."

"Then some day," said he, "I will introduce you to one, in this very neighbourhood; but one so unobtrusive, so retiring, that she has escaped your knowledge. She will form a valuable addition to your small list of good helpmates for the priesthood." As Mr. Everard made this promise, they entered the last gate in the park, and the sound of the bell for the evening toilet, which faintly reached them, made them give their horses free rein till they reached the steps of the hall

CHAPTER XI.

"Blessed is that simplicity which leaveth the difficult ways of disputes, and goeth on in the plain and sure path of God's commandments."

THOMAS A KEMPIS.

"BLANDFORD," whispered the Warden to his own man,' who stood at his usual post behind his master's chair at the dinner table, "inquire what the joint is, and when it is to appear; I do not understand the plan of the dinner to-day." A smile passed over the face of the butler, when summoned by the decorously grave valet to reply to the Warden's inquiry; but the sense of his own official position in approaching a brother dignitary, repressed in the head of the sideboard all undue sense of the ridiculous, as he informed the astonished Doctor of Divinity, that Miss Carrington had expressly ordered that no joint or meat of any kind should be served up on the "Hamper Days!"

"Ah! what-really-oh! of course-very proper," said the Warden, with admirable presence of mind. "Everard! a glass of wine?"

"Willingly, Warden. On the strength of the Hamper Days? Well!"

"The Ember Days,'" said Geraldine, much embarrassed by the sudden college look of her uncle, and the struggling mirth which played in the countenance of Mr. Everard and Miss Graham. "The Ember Days begin on this, the twenty-first of September, and used always to be kept as days of abstinence in the Church of England."