history is known but to the good old Aubrey and myself. No breath, even
of rumour, tarnishes the name of Lady Vargrave."

"Mrs. Leslie," said Lady Vargrave, reclosing the cabinet, and again
seating herself, "my world lies around me; I cannot quit it. If I were
of use to Evelyn, then indeed I would sacrifice, brave all; but I only
cloud her spirits. I have no advice to give her, no instruction to
bestow. When she was a child I could watch over her; when she was sick,
I could nurse her; but now she requires an adviser, a guide; and I feel
too sensibly that this task is beyond my powers. I, a guide to youth and
innocence,--_I_! No, I have nothing to offer her, dear child! but my
love and my prayers. Let your daughter take her, then,--watch over her,
guide, advise her. For me--unkind, ungrateful as it may seem--were she
but happy, I could well bear to be alone!"

"But she--how will she, who loves you so, submit to this separation?"

"It will not be long; and," added Lady Vargrave, with a serious, yet
sweet smile, "she had better be prepared for that separation which must
come at last. As year by year I outlive my last hope,--that of once more
beholding _him_,--I feel that life becomes feebler and feebler, and I
look more on that quiet churchyard as a home to which I am soon
returning. At all events, Evelyn will be called upon to form new ties
that must estrange her from me; let her wean herself from one so useless
to her, to all the world,--now, and by degrees."

"Speak not thus," said Mrs. Leslie, strongly affected; "you have many
years of happiness yet in store for you. The more you recede from youth,
the fairer life will become to you."