And here a strange thing, yet the commonest in the world, appeared: had her own marriage proved to Letty the most blessed of fates, she could not have shown more delight at the idea of Mary's. I think men find women a little incomprehensible in this matter of their friends' marriage: in their larger-heartedness, I presume, women are able to hope for their friends, even when they have lost all hope for themselves.

"No," replied Mary, amused at having thus misled. her. "It is neither so bad nor so good as that. But I was far from comfortable in the shop without my father, and kept thinking how to find a life more suitable for me. It was not plain to me that my lot was cast there any longer, and one has no right to choose difficulty; for, even if difficulty be the right thing for you, the difficulty you choose can't be the right difficulty. Those that are given to choosing, my father said, are given to regretting. Then it happened that I fell in love-not with a gentleman-don't look like that, Letty-but with a lady; and as the lady took a small fancy to me at the same time, and wanted to have me about her, here I am."

"But surely that is not a situation fit for one like you, Mary!" cried Letty, almost in consternation; for, notwithstanding her opposition to her aunt's judgment in the individual case of her friend, Letty's own judgments, where she had any, were mostly of this world. "I suppose you are a kind of-of-companion to your ladyfriend?"

"Or a kind of lady's-maid, or a kind of dressmaker, or a kind of humble friend-something like a dog, perhaps-only not to be quite so much loved and petted! In truth, Letty, I do not know what I am, or what I am going to be; but I shall find out before long, and where's

the use of knowing, any more than anything else before it's wanted?"

"You take my breath away, Mary! The thing doesn't seem at all like you! It's not consistent!-Mary Marston in a menial position! I can't get a hold of it!"

"You remind me," said Mary, laughing, "of what my father said to Mr. Turnbull once. They were nearer quarrelling then than ever I saw them.-You remember my father's way, Letty-how he would say a thing too quietly even to smile with it? I can't tell you what a delight it is to me to talk to anybody that knew him!Mr. Turnbull imagined he did not know what he was about, for the thoughts my father was thinking could not have lived a moment in Mr. Turnbull. 'You see, John Turnbull,' my father said, 'no man can look so inconsistent as one whose principles are not understood; for hardly in anything will that man do as his friend must have thought he would.'-I suppose you think, Letty," Mary went on, with a merry air, "that, for the sake of consistency, I should never do anything but sell behind a counter?"

"In that case," said Letty, "I ought to have married a milkman, for a dairy is the only thing I understand. I can't help Tom ever so little!-But I suppose it wouldn't be possible for two to write poetry together, even if they were husband and wife, and both of them clever!"

"Something like it has been tried, I believe," answered Mary, "but not with much success. I suppose, when a man sets himself to make anything, he must have it all his own way, or he can't do it."

"I suppose that's it. I know Tom is very angry with the editor when he wants to alter anything he has written. I'm sure Tom's right too. You can't think how much better Tom's way always is!-He makes that quite clear,

even to poor stupid me. But then, you know, Tom's a genius; that's one thing there's no doubt of!-But you haven't told me yet where you are."

"You remember Miss Mortimer of Durnmelling?" "Quite well, of course."

"She is Mrs. Redmain now: I am with her."

"You don't mean it! Why, Tom knows her very well! He has been several times to parties at her house." "And not you too?" asked Mary.

"Oh, dear, no!" answered Letty, laughing, superior at Mary's ignorance. "It's not the fashion in London, at least for distinguished persons like my Tom, to take their wives to parties."

"Are there no ladies at those parties, then?"

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'Oh, yes!” replied Letty, smiling again at Mary's ignorance of the world, "the grandest of ladies-duchesses and all. You don't know what a favourite Tom is in the highest circles!"

Now Mary could believe almost anything bearing on Tom's being a favourite, for she herself liked him a great deal more than she approved of him; but she could not see the sense of his going to parties without his wife, neither could she see that the height of the circle in which he was a favourite, made any difference. She had old-fashioned notions of a man and his wife being one flesh, and felt a breach of the law where they were separated, whatever the custom-reason there could be none. But Letty seemed much too satisfied to give her any light on the matter. Did it seem to her so natural, that she could not understand Mary's difficulty? She could not help suspecting, however, that there might be something in this recurrence of a separation absolute as death-for was it not a passing of one into a region where the other could not follow?--to account for the

change in her.—The same moment, as if Letty divined what was passing in Mary's thought, and were not altogether content with the thing herself, but would gladly justify what she could not explain, she added, in the tone of an unanswerable argument,—

“Besides, Mary, how could I get a dress fit to wear at such parties? You wouldn't have me go, and look like a beggar! That would be to disgrace Tom. Everybody in London judges everybody by the clothes she wears. You should hear Tom's descriptions of the ladies' dresses when he comes home!"

Mary was on the verge of crying out indignantly, “Then, if he can't take you, why doesn't he stop at home with you?” but she bethought herself in time to hold her peace. She settled it with herself, however, that Tom must have less heart, or yet more muddled brains, than she had thought.

“So then,” reverted Letty, as if willing to turn definitively from the subject, “you are actually living with the beautiful Mrs. Redmain! What a lucky girl you are! You will see no end of grand people! You will see my Tom sometimes—when I can't!” she added, with a sigh that went to Mary's heart.

"Poor thing!" she said to herself, “it isn't anything much out of the way she wants—only a little more of a foolish husband's company!"

It was no wonder that Tom found Letty dull, for he had just as little of his own in him as she, and thought he had a great store-which is what sends a man most swiftly along the road to that final poverty, in which even that which he has shall be taken from him.

Mary did not stay so long with Letty as both would have liked, for she did not yet know enough of Hesper's

ways. When she got home, she learned that she had a headache, and had not yet made her appearance.

CHAPTER II.

THE EVENING STAR.

NOTWITHSTANDING her headache, however, Mrs. Redmain was going in the evening to a small fancy-ball, meant for a sort of rehearsal to a great one when the season should arrive. The part and costume she had chosen were the suggestion of her own name: she would represent the Evening Star, clothed in the early twilight; and neither was she unfit for the part, nor was the dress she had designed altogether unsuitable either to herself or to the part. But she had sufficient confidence neither in herself nor her maid to forestall a desire for Mary's opinion. After luncheon therefore, she sent for Miss Marston to her bed-room.

Mary found her half dressed, Folter in attendance, a great heap of pink lying on the bed.

"Sit down, Mary," said Hesper, pointing to a chair; "I want your advice. But I must first explain. Where I am going this evening, nobody is to be herself except me. I am not to be Mrs. Redmain, though, but Hesper.-You know what Hesper means?"

Mary said she knew, and waited-a little anxious; for sideways in her eyes glowed the pink of the chosen Hesperian clouds, and if she should not like it, what could be done at that late hour?

"There is my dress," continued the Evening Star, with a glance of her eyes, for Folter was busied with her hair: "I want to know your opinion of it.”