heroines, (for we confess that we abound too much in them for the ordinary taste) during a period of agitation-we should be forbidden, by the laws of human sympathy, to continue to trace their history through a period of tranquillity. We fear, however, that according to the ordinary vicissitudes of life, Clare's trials are yet to come, as the course of her love has hitherto gone too smoothly to entitle her to the name of a heroine. She may perhaps be one of those persons, who are allowed to go through life" pacing on prosperity," as Mr. Quarles hath it; but in that case, she will require the good wishes of the reader, to help her on her way to heaven, still more than if she had already learned, from experience, that life is a weary pilgrimage.

That it ought to be a progress, not only in the old, but in the present sense of the word, we hope she has already found out; and it is sometimes a comfort to think there are people in the world, who can use prosperity, without abusing it.

When we last heard of Willoughby and Clare, they were made supremely happy, by the approaching marriage of Charles Greville and Miss Aylmer, who had renewed their acquaintance at Dynvor, and found out, that they were exactly suited in tastes, and habits to make each other happy for the remainder of their lives.

Willoughby's life was one of active usefulness, both public and private. His powers expanded with his happiness, and in Clare's comprehensive sympathies, he ever found an unfailing fountain of refreshment, to invigorate his resolves-to steer right onward-unmoved by the "clamour of evil tongues, and evil men." She felt, that she should only half fulfil the duties of a wife, if she entered not as entirely into all his higher aims, and pursuits, as into his more domestic interests.

In the midst of her own occupied life and heart, she continued to keep up the most constant intercourse with her former home; and

her happiness, in her first born son, was not complete until he had received, on his brow, a kiss from one she so much loved, and honoured, as her adopted mother.

Mr. Arundel married the sleeping beauty at last, and took her to Italy, where people may sleep in the open air with impunity.

Dynvor

Mr. Willis continued to walk and sketch, and drink tea to his dying hour. Abbey was now added to his houses of call, and his high respect for Clare's sketching virtues, induced him to bequeath to her one of his best portfolios.

Mrs. Winifred, whose fears for her king and her God, were somewhat appeased by the accession to power, in the winter of 1835 of the illustrious Duke and his colleagues, departed this life in comparative tranquillity, before Sir Robert Peel's return from Italy.

Of Herbert and Miss Stuart, we must say a few words, and then, gentle reader, we promise to say farewell, for ever and aye. Miss

Stuart, whose character attached Lady Darcy to her every day more strongly, returned to Appin in the spring after Clare's marriage, with the promise of spending the following winter also at Delmer. The improvement in her looks by this change of climate, was too apparent to all her friends in the Highlands for them to oppose her return; and the arrangement made for Zebba and aunt Eelen, continued to give mutual satisfaction and comfort.

It was after the second winter had passed away, and the time come for Miss Stuart to return to her home, that she began to feel a shrinking at the idea of going to Appin, which she had never before experienced. She was shocked and angry at herself for what she felt; but in proportion as her enjoyment of Delmer and its inmates increased, her dread of Appin seemed to increase also. She felt herself valued and understood, by those she most honoured, and she could not conceal

from herself, that she was going where no one could appreciate the sacrifice she was making; but she had so long been accustomed to discipline her feelings, that she inwardly resolved that although her health might sink under the determination, she would not again place herself in circumstances, where such a conflict of feeling was excited, but give the remainder of her life to "duty and aunt Eelen."

"Is it possible," she thought to herself, "that the scenes I so much loved-the graves of those I have so sinfully mourned-the faces of the poor, who bless me for my father's sake, that all these impressions, once so precious to my heart, should not outweigh the reluctance I feel to leave my comparatively new friends? I am become too fond of the world, and of the life of elegant repose I enjoy here—yet Lady Darcy is not of the world-Sir Herbert is not of the world. I sometimes wish I had never seen them-but have they not enlarged my