Turns of Fortune, and Other Tales

herself above the industrious classes by whom she is surrounded-and where those with whom her tastes and habits assimilate, consider her greatly beneath the

ition of "lead us not into temptation" with deeper feeling than usual; and instead of rising when Helen rose, and exchanging with her the kiss of sisterly affection, Rose buried her face in her hands; while her cousin, seated opposite the small glass which stood on their little dressing-table, commenced curling her hair, as if that day, which had completed a revolution in her way of thinking, had been as smooth as all the other days of her short calendar. The candle was extinguished, and Helen slept profoundly. The moon shone in brightly through the latticed window, whose leaden cross-bars chequered the sanded floor. Rose looked earnestly upon the face of the sleeper, and so bright it was, that she saw, or fancied she saw, a smile of triumph curling on her lip. She crept quietly out of bed, and leaned her throbbing temples against the cool glass. How deserted the long street of Abbeyweld appeared; the shadows of the opposite trees and houses lay prostrate across the road-the aspect of

not as sorry for her as she would have been at any other time, for individual sorrow has few sympathies; but the more she thought of the lonely lame girl, the less became her own trouble, and she might have gone to bed with the consciousness which, strange to say, brings consolation, that there was one very near more wretched than herself, had she not seen the form of Edward Lynne glide like a spectre from beneath the old elm-tree, and stand before the window. Rose retreated, but still observed him; the moon was shining on the window, so he must have seen the form, without, perhaps, being able to distinguish whose it was. Rose watched him