her as her shadow, was shown abruptly into the invalid's room. "The girl" thrust her in without a word of introduction or explanation. Norah was familiar in the place, though her mother was a stranger. Mrs. Haldane rose hastily to meet them, and an agitated speech was on Helen's lips that she had come to say good-bye, that she was going away, that they might never meet again in this world,-when her eye caught the helpless figure seated by the window, turning a half-surprised, half-sympathetic look upon her. She had never seen poor Stephen since his illness, and she was not prepared for this complete and lamentable overthrow. It drove her own thoughts, even her own sorrows, out of her mind for the moment. She gave a cry of mingled wonder and horror. She had heard all about it, but seeing is so very different from hearing.

"Oh, Mr. Haldane!" she said, going up to him, forgetting herself-with such pity in her voice as he had not heard for years. It drove out of his mind, too, the more recent and still more awful occasion he had to pity her. He looked at her with sudden gratitude in his eyes.

"Yes, it is a change, is it not ?" he said with a faint smile. He had been an Alpclimber, a mighty walker, when she saw him last.

Some moments passed before she recovered the shock. She sat down by him trembling, and then she burst into sudden tears-not that she was a woman who cried much in her sorrow, but that her nerves were affected beyond her power of control.

"Mr. Haldane, forgive me," she faltered. "I have never seen you since-and so much has happened-oh, so much!"

"Ah, yes," he said. "I could cry toonot for myself, for that is an old story. I would have gone to you, had I been ableyou know that; and it is very, very kind of you to come to me."

"It is to say good-bye. We are going away to the country, Norah and I," said Helen; "there is no longer any place for us here. But I wanted to see you, to tell you -you seem to belong-so much-to the old time."

Ah, that old time! the time which softens all hearts. It had not been perfect while it existed, but now how fair it was! Perhaps Stephen Haldane remembered it better than she did; perhaps it might even cross his mind that in that old time she had not cared much to see him, had not welcomed him to her house with any pleasure. But he was too

generous to allow himself even to think such a thought, in her moment of downfall. The depths were more bitter to her even than to him. He would not let the least shadow even in his mind fret her in her great trouble. He put out his hand, and grasped hers with a sympathy which was more telling than words.

"And I hope your mother will forgive me too," she said with some timidity. "I thought I had more command of myself. We could not go without coming to say good-bye."

"It is very kind-it is more than I had any right to expect," said Mrs. Haldane. "And we are going to the country too. We are going to Dura, to a house Mr. Burton has kindly offered to us. Oh, Mrs. Drummond, now I think of it, probably we owe it to you."”

"No," said Helen, startled and mystified; and then she added slowly, "I am going to Dura too."

"Oh, how very lucky that is! Oh, how glad I am!" said the old lady. "Stephen, do you hear? Of course, Mr. Burton is your cousin ; it is natural you should be near him. Stephen, this is good news for you. You will have Miss Norah, whom you were always so fond of, to come about you as she used to do—that is, if her mamma will allow her. Oh, my dear, I am so glad! I must go and tell Jane. Jane, here is something that will make you quite happy. Mrs. Drummond is coming too."

She went to the door to summon her daughter, and Helen was left alone with the sick man. She had not loved him in the old time, but yet he looked a part of Robert now, and her heart melted towards him. She was glad to have him to herself, as glad as if he had been a brother. She put her hand on the arm of his chair, laying a kind of doubtful claim to him. "You have seen what they say?" she asked, looking in his face.

"Yes, all; with fury," he said, "with indignation! Oh my God, that I should be chained here, and good for nothing! They might as well have said it of that child."

"Oh, is it not cruel, cruel!" she said.

These half-dozen words were all that passed between them, and yet they comforted her more than all Dr. Maurice had said. He had been indignant too, it is true; but not with this fiery, visionary wrath-the rage of the helpless, who can do nothing.

When Miss Jane came in with her mother, they did the most of the talking, and Helen

ST. JAMES'S HOSPITAL, HIGH STREET.

of all canons of art, so prevalent in England during the last century, which ruined and defaced with so-called improvements many of its ancient structures.

According to tradition, Warwick was founded by Cymbeline, that legendary King of Britain whom the genius of Shakespeare has immortalized. It does not appear to have been exempt from those calamities which overtook all British cities after the final departure of the forces of Imperial Rome. Ancient histories record many sieges and captures of the city by Picts, Saxons, and Danes, as those savage races followed one another in inflicting on the unhappy country all the horrors of fire and sword. These accounts are, however, based solely on traditional evidence, and the first authenticated mention of Warwick occurs about A. D. 915, when a sister of Alfred the Great, who had brought the city as a dowry to her husband, built Warwick Castle. From this period till the Conquest Warwick was held by a race of Saxon earls, who first gained that warlike renown which appeared a peculiar attribute of this title, the greatest of the line falling on the fatal field of Barnet.

William of Normandy, upon his arrival in England, found Warwick Castle in the possession of a great Saxon lord of the name of Turchill, who was probably connected by close ties of blood with many of the prominent Norman barons: otherwise it is difficult to account for the fact that the conquerors permitted so important and honorable a post to remain in the hands of

one of the oppressed and distrusted Saxons. On Turchill's death the earldom of Warwick and guardianship of the castle were granted by the Conqueror to Roger de Bellomont, from whom, through a variety of female descen dants, it passed into the hands of the Beauchamps, which family retained it for about one hundred and fifty years. The daughter and heiress of Richard, last earl of that race, married Richard Neville, son of the Earl of Salisbury, and conveyed to him the rights and titles inherited from her father. This Richard Neville was the celebrated "Kingmaker," whose brilliant exploits and tragic fate are too well known to need recapitulation. He was one of the most renowned warriors of his day, more, perhaps, through the favors of fortune than on account of any consummate generalship; but his political career was marked by very grave defects, which eventually caused his ruin. He had no grasp of mind, and was jealous to the last degree of the favor of whichever monarch he served, so that he alienated the affections of many devoted and valuable adherents. At his death the earldom fell to the descendant of the unfortunate George, Duke of Clarence; but as he had been attainted by Henry VII. it was vested in the Crown, with which it remained until the reign of Queen Elizabeth, who granted it to Ambrose Dudley, brother of the celebrated Robert, Earl of Leicester. After him the earldom passed through several families, and finally was obtained by the Grevilles, who had for many years held possession of the castle, and who bear the title at present.

The city whence these various houses took their name is the capital and county town of Warwickshire, one of the most fertile counties in England. It is very pleasantly situated on the north bank of the river Avon upon a rocky eminence, which in the Middle Ages greatly enhanced its importance as a military post. The surrounding country is dry and fertile. On the south side of the town rich meadows stretch out as far as the eye can reach, whilst the view to the north is bounded by tall groves and variegated woodlands. The city presents a

curious and ancient appearance, very attractive to the antiquarian or the lover of the picturesque, although the friend of progress would probably be able to point out many defects and chances for improvement. It is one of the oldest corporations in England, and sent two burgesses to Parliament as early as the seventh year of King Edward the First. Its charter was renewed and confirmed by King Henry VIII. It is governed by a mayor and twelve aldermen. By its assessment in Domesday Book it must even then have been a place of considerable importance. The town is traversed by a thoroughfare called High Street, on which many fine edifices are situated. This street is terminated by a very remarkable gateway, which is partially hewn out of the rock, a remnant of the ancient fortifications of the town, and possibly a relic of the Saxon occupation. It is built over by a large tower and other buildings, which formerly were used for an institution of the Franciscan order, but, being secularized at the Reformation, passed into private hands. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, however, Robert Dudley, the notorious Earl of Leicester, annexed this church to a hospital which he erected immediately adjacent under the name of St. James's Hospital, St. James being the patron saint of the before-mentioned church. The accompanying illustration gives a correct idea of the appearance of this singular building. Its interior, a large quadrangle, presents a vivid portrait of the style of architecture in private residences of the better class prevalent during the reign of Queen Elizabeth. It closely resembles those ancient German mansions which are so familiar to any one who has visited Nuremberg, Augsburg, and many other German cities. Long latticed galleries and open corridors extend around it, ornamented with quaint carvings and numerous gables. The establishment is endowed, in order to support twelve old men, natives of certain specified places in Warwickshire and Gloucestershire, and a Master, usually the Vicar of St. Mary's Church. These old men are dressed in a peculiar costume, and wear the old badge of the Earls of Warwick,-the Bear and Ragged Staff. Such as have been maimed in the service of their country have the preference when there is a vacancy to be filled. Mr. Hawthorne, in his sketch "About Warwick," appears to consider the foundation of this establishment as removing to a great extent the stain which has always darkened the fame of the Earl of Leicester;

it detracts, however, somewhat from the credit we might award him for this act to know that the institution was designed, originally, solely for the benefit of his own retainers.

On High Street is also situated St. Mary's Church, a building of very great antiquity; it was unfortunately greatly injured during a conflagration which in 1694 destroyed a large part of Warwick. This church, as it stood before the fire, although undoubtedly founded as early as the period of the Saxon kings, owed most of its magnificence and riches to the Beauchamps, with whom it was a favorite resting-place, and many of whose tombs are yet to be seen there. A very full and minute account of this church and the various curiosities it contains may be found in Dugdale's valuable description of the city and county of Warwick, together with curious illustrations of the principal tombs, several of which perished, since that book was published, in the fire above alluded to. The building in its present state is chiefly the work of Sir Christopher Wren, who has by some been accused of not sufficiently observing the canons of good taste in adapting his restorations to the