Mrs. Wynne was much startled, but she tried to restrain any emotion that might embarrass Elizabeth, and answered after a little pause.

"You ask whether I should think it wicked? I have given the subject very little thought, but I must own to a feeling, only an instinctive one,-not one from reason, against such a step."

66 Will you tell me why, mamma ?"

"I must think a little: perhaps my first reason, is only that I have been and am such a very happy wife and mother, that I could not bear to think of the possibility of such a lot being taken away from any one; also, I do not like women to become in any way conspicuous, or to leave their natural station in life." 66 But you do not think sisterhoods are wrong

"No, I think not-but one is so inconsistent-I could not yet bear to think of any daughter of mine joining one."

"Mamma," cried Elizabeth earnestly, "I will never join one unless you consent; I mean, however old, however miserable—” her voice faltered, and she left her sentence unfinished.

"My love, are you miserable now ?”

"No,-I ought not to be unhappy. Mamma, don't think I do not love you all very much; but I do so long to be of use."

66

You are in a thousand ways to every one of us, dear child."

Elizabeth shook her head.

"Sometimes-sometimes," she said, laying her head on her mother's cushion, I even wish I could be a governess, or a national schoolmistress, or even a shopkeeper."

"Yes, I understand the feeling."

66

Instead, I have only every comfort and no set duty, nothing but my own pleasure-if, if I had only younger sisters to teach, I should be happier, at least, it seems so.”

"I am glad you add that proviso, teaching younger sisters is sometimes wearisome work, at least, I found

it so; but then it so happened that my pupil was a very stupid one."

I do not think I should mind that. I mean, I think I should like hard work."

"Then," said Mrs. Wynne, after a little pause; "what you wish me to consider is, whether we could ever consent to your leaving us to become a member of an English Sisterhood ?"

"If you would, then I should know whether I need try not to think of it."

66

You have been trying not to do so ?"

"Yes, I—I thought you would think the idea so silly, so girlish,-would not care—”

Elizabeth stopped short, and Mrs. Wynne answered simply, "No, I should only have thought it so had it come from a silly romantic person. I hope I have never laughed at any such idea from a person in earnest. But do not misunderstand me, nothing would ever induce me to allow you to pledge yourself, in any way to any step of the kind, until you are far older and more experienced than you are now; and, my dear, I do very much doubt whether your father would ever consent to it at all."

66

But, mamma, I do not think the vows are irrevocable. I-I could not bear to leave you, if I could not come home, if any one ever wanted me."

"No, my dear child, I hope and think you could not. There, we will not discuss the subject more,it is not right to do so till we know what your father thinks of it. Can you now read to me, my dear ?”

Elizabeth complied, and they were thus engaged when the carriage party returned.

Mr. Wynne's answer to his wife's account of that afternoon's conversation, after some moments' pause of silent astonishment and indignation, was a determined-" So she is discontented with her home, with our love!-let her go into a sisterhood then! but if she does I will never see her again. She will leave this house once for all."

"Nay, dear Frank, you wrong her there. She said herself that she would never join one without our consent; that if the vows were such as would prevent her coming home to us if needed, she could not take them, and, dear child, that she would try not to think of the idea any more if we think she ought not to do so."

"Poor girl! Well, my dear, nothing will ever induce me to think of anything of the kind. Will you tell her so, or shall I ?"

"Dear Frank, please consider it a little further before giving such a decided answer."

66

'My dear Barbara! is it possible you yourself can entertain the project, so romantic, uncalled-for, and improper!—for one moment ?" and Mr. Wynne rose, pained and indignant.

"Shall I tell you what I feel? That Elizabeth is so good, so earnest, so anxious to do right that any thought of hers deserves consideration. If she were a silly idle girl, as many at her age are, neglecting the duties of her present life, and only attracted by the romance of such another life, I should feel as angry and annoyed as yourself. But when I see her performing conscientiously any and every duty, teaching the little Browns,-even when she makes tea so careful to gratify every one's tastes, yes, you may smile, but such little things are a sure test,-reading German with Barbara, because I like their having occupations in common, though she would much prefer following her own more peculiar taste and reading alone; I cannot dismiss any idea she has taken to heart without being quite sure it is not I who am in the wrong, and she who is in the right, dear child."

"She is such a mere child; what is she? fifteen ?" No, seventeen and a half."

"But you would never dream of letting her at such an age, enter into any engagement that would colour her whole life ?"

BB

"Oh, no; what I was thinking of asking you, whether you would consent to, was only this. That I might tell her, that we did not forbid her thinking of such a lot at some future time, but that this permission was only given on condition that she did not even think herself of coming to any resolution till we gave her permission, that till she was of age we could not dream of her taking any step of the kind, and most probably not so soon as that,—not till five and twenty-"

"By that time she will be married, and have something better to think of," interrupted Mr. Wynne. "I must own, I hope so. What a wife and mother she would make!-but if not, I think at that age we must allow her to follow her own judgment. We must not turn into tyrannical parents in our old age." "She ought not to leave us in our old age."

"But, Frank, if we should let her leave us to marry, ought we not to let her leave us to follow what she thinks a duty ?"

"Can it ever be a duty to leave one's father and mother ?"

"We seemed to think so when we pictured her a wife and mother at five and twenty,-but it would be a hard trial to part with her at all.”

"Poor little timid thing! how could she face strangers," and Mr. Wynne relapsed into thought and silence; and, when he started for town the next morning, he had not said one word to his wife more on the subject.

But with Paul he at once entered on it, for on Paul's judgment every year he more and more relied, and with good reason. Isabella would almost have been amused if she could have heard the very different tone with which Paul now entered on the subject, to that in which he had dismissed it with herself, hearing all his father had to say, and then reserving his own judgment till he had had time to think, and knew more of the subject,-all judgment save on

one point, that no daughter of his should ever enter any society where such membership was irrevocable, if, which he could not believe, any such vow could be required in England.

At last Mr. Wynne renewed the subject with his wife, saying, "My dear, I have been thinking this wish of Elizabeth's thoroughly over. I cannot deny that I have a great distaste-it may be English prejudice, I do not say it is not-to any step of the kind. I like women to be keepers at home. But I have the greatest trust in your good sense and judgment, and feel with you that if Elizabeth is dutiful and practical in her daily life, we perhaps ought not to bid her dismiss the idea as a mere girl's romantic vision. That is all I can say. I do not say that I will not consent should she, when come to years of real discretion, still desire to leave us; nor can I say that I will consent. Meanwhile if the vision be so near her heart, it will be a needless and unwarrantable cruelty to bid her cease to think of it."

Mrs. Wynne rose, kissed him, and said fondly, "I can answer for her, that she will not abuse great consideration—”

your

"Poor child, she will scarcely think it so.' "Indeed I do; I know what a turn-a homely expression, but there is no better-her wish first gave myself. But yet one must allow that such women are doing work that otherwise could not be done at all,-and if so the women must come from somewhere, and it may be from homes like our own,—it may be one of the drawbacks of affluence that its daughters have fewer home duties, and thus can best be spared for public ones."

"It may be so, but I can give no more definite answer now than I have done already."

"No, I did not mean to press for one; I am very thankful to be able to give her so favourable an one at all."