markable. If a girl marries before she is seventeen her husband is sure to be in advance of her in age, and even ten years is not much in such a case. The real difference between my husband and myself was in our respective temperaments. He was old for his years, and I was young for mine; and although there was the sincerest affection on both sides, we had but little in common as regarded our ideas and pursuits. He was grave in his ways, I precisely the reverse. He read a great deal, I scarcely ever opened a book. He was fond of his profession, that of a soldier; I quarrelled with him when he went away on duty, as I could not understand that a soldier was meant for something more than to wear gay uniforms and amuse ladies. He must have had a thousand things in his mind of which I was quite unconscious. I loved him dearly, as I have said, but perhaps mine Iwas more the love of a sister or a daughter, or a cousin perhaps, than that of a wife. He was a man of scrupulous and punctilious honour, and I respected him for the nobility of his nature, which had not one mean thought. But he was, as I have said, grave, and I thought at times cold; and while he did not amuse me, he seemed sometimes to tire of my companionship. Such were our relations together when your brother Cecil was first quartered at Barrackpore. My husband and he were intimate acquaintances, and he was a great deal at our house. What a misfortune it was for us both, for us all! But for him I should have become more used to my husband's ways, and-loving him sincerely as I did-we should have been happy together doubtless to this day. But Cecil, unhappily, was all that my husband was notall that I wanted him to be. He never talked seriously, was never dull, never read-at least in my presence, as you may suppose-and never troubled me with advice or remonstrance. Moreover, he always amused me, and I was such a lightheaded girl that I thought anybody who amused me the greatest benefactor that could possibly be. Had he been my husband I dare say I

should have soon found how impossible it is for any person to play such a part as this for every hour in the day and every day in the year; but this consideration never occurred to me at the time, and I thought Cecil just what a man should be to make a perfect husband. He loved me, too, as sincerely, I am afraid, as his nature is capable of loving, and I had not the heart to be otherwise than grateful for this. So it was that-with the aid of those fascinations which you know him to have at his commandhe gained an influence over me which increased day by day. All this time I loved my husband as much as ever, my affection for him never wavered, but it was different from the sentiment I had for Cecil, which was only sentiment, and I have since learned, on knowing myself better, that I never really loved him, though just now I called my feeling for him by the name of love. But his influence, as I have said, was strong, and when he came to me one day and told me that he had obtained leave to England for a year, and asked me to leave my husband and fly with him, in a weak, wicked moment I said yes. The result was as you know.'

'You were, then, the lady who joined him at the hotel in Calcutta?'

'I was that unhappy woman, but as innocent, in one sense, as I have remained ever since. He had no sooner joined me than my husband arrived, and I immediately repented of the step I had taken, and resolved to retrace it. I flew into the inner room, the door of which I heard locked upon me. I should have returned and implored my husband's pardon; but they bore him away, and he, with his stern will, refused to see me again. I was too proud-I confess it with pain-to write to him, or he might have forgiven me; for he was far from implacable in his resentments, and there was real warmth at the base of his apparent coldness. I made up my mind then to suffer the punishment I knew myself to deserve. Some kind friends to us both, after trying to bring about a

reconciliation, arranged that we should live apart, and they arranged also for an allowance to be paid to me, proportionate to his means, but this I refused to accept. I was fortunately not without some immediate resources, having a small sum of money of my own, and for the rest I determined to work for my own support. I did not dare to return to England, where I should meet former friends, nor to stay in India under his name. So I assumed the name I bore before my marriage, and, through the influence of the friends who had already rendered me service, obtained a situation in the upper provinces as a governess. You will say that I was not a fit person for a governess, either as regarded my character or my conduct; but my character sobered wonderfully after that horrible night, and my conduct-was not known. My pupil was a beautiful child, who was without a mother, and I endeavoured, by the utmost possible devotion, to supply her place.'

'Is it true, then, that you are not the mother of Constance?'

'It is indeed true, and my conscience has rebuked me continually for not telling you this before. But there was no misrepresentation as to Constance's position, and I persuaded myself that in marrying her you could not be concerned with mine. But as our friendship increased, I felt more and more that I ought to have been frank with you; and I was waiting, at last, only for courage to unburden my mind. Of Mr. Beltravers I had made a confidant years before his death.'

'Mr. Beltravers!

How came you

to bear his name?' 'I will tell you. This is how my confidence to him was brought about. He had been a widower for several years when I took up my abode in his house, and I had not been long a member of the family before I found that he loved me. I would not allow myself to credit the fact at first, but after a time he actually made me an offer of marriage, and then I told him all. I was quite prepared to be dismissed from the house with disgrace, but he received my confession in the most charitable

spirit. Poor, good man! he was nearly heart-broken; but he respected my humiliation and believed in the sincerity of my repentance. He promised never again to renew the subject of his attachment for me, and he religiously kept his word. For years afterwards, while Constance was growing up, I lived in his house, and received from him no sign of any sentiments towards me but those of the warmest respect. and friendship. Nor did he reveal muy secret to anybody, Constance herself being unaware to this day of iny real position. He never married, though I more than once urged him to do so, and it was perpetual pain to me to know, as I could not but know, that it was for my sake he remained alone. There are few such men as he in the world, and I regarded him with the love that I should have given to a brother. He died at last, before his time, a saddened but cheerfully-resigned man, and on his deathbed he bequeathed his daughter to my care, and made me promise to obey the wishes expressed in his will, that I should bear his name and take the place of the mother of Constance. The desire was accompanied, too, by a provision-from his immense wealth, made as a merchant and planterfully equal to that which I should have enjoyed as his wife, and Constance of course bas the rest of his property. What could I do but comply with his wishes? And I had, and have, no hope of ever being with my husband again. I know not even where he is to be found. For years past my main object in life has been the care of Constance, and to make her worthy of the father who left her to me. The blow that my hopes have received from the event of last night I need not tell you, and I scarcely dare ask you to suspend in her favour any determination as to the future. Constance is wayward and self-willed, but she is a good girl at heart, and the step which she has taken ought not to be irretrievable. That she is safe in the care of friends is a consolation to me; but-but-I cannot expect that you can forgive her cruel treatinent.'

'It has been cruel indeed,' said Sir Norman, bitterly; and I cannot conceal from myself one fact which it reveals-that she cannot have loved me as a woman ought to love a man who is to make her his wife. She speaks, too, of "another friend" who took her across the river-what am I to think?'

The allusion had already given Mrs. Beltravers uneasiness, which she vainly endeavoured to ignore.

'No,' continued Sir Norman, 'it is too late. I have loved Constance as man has seldom loved a woman,

but she does not love me. I will not trouble her, nor you on my behalf. I shall leave Calcutta to-morrow and go up country, where I have an excuse to go upon business affairs; but I shall always appreciate your friendship, Mrs. Beltravers, and it would be at least one source of consolation to me at any time to know that you were-were more happy than you are.'

Sir Norman could not say all he meant, and Mrs. Beltravers was too wretched to help him; so the pair parted.

OF

all the questions of sociology which are keenly debated at the present day, none surpasses in practical interest and importance the great question which is raised about our servants. It is very true that in affluent families with large establishments the difficulty is hardly felt; and, generally speaking, we are a long way removed from that prevalent state of matters in America which induces families by the hundred to abandon housekeeping, and to betake themselves to boarding-houses. On every side we hear peevish complaints about servants; and as peevish complaints are frequently unsubstantial, those who have many and good servants may be disposed to think that there is not very much in such querulous language. But such an idea would be a very mistaken one. A vast social organic revolution is accomplishing itself throughout the country. The character of servants and the conditions of service are being modified in every direction, and especially in the direction where the shoe chiefly pinches the employer's feet. In wealthy families, where the wages are high, the family small, the work moderate and light, the servant nuisance is chiefly felt in the way of increased dressiness and exaggerated demands for holidays. So great, however, is the nuisance, that I know a celebrated physician who very gene

rally asks, when ladies come to consult him, whether they have been at all put out by their servants. I have made a good deal of inquiry into the matter, and I believe that this social trouble comes most severely on the tradesman class, and is extending vertically and laterally in every direction. The saving, struggling tradesman, who used to be content with one servant, is now really obliged to have two, and similarly, he that kept two must now have three or four, and cannot have their work done with fewer. This is one of the causes that have operated towards the general rise of prices in every direction.

I cannot say that I am at all dissatisfied with the general movement that has come to pass in favour of the increased wages, comforts, and recreations of servants. This is part of the general tendency of our times, and it should be a matter of sincere gratulation that a class which both wanted and deserved great alleviations in its condition should receive such to an ample extent. I think it a good thing for a servant that she should be able to wear a silk gown, have some notion of social intercourse, go now and then to a place of amusement, and read her penny paper regularly. But of course the great thing we want is that the servant should be a good servant; and all these things

may be compatible with her being a good servant, and if they help her to be more intelligent and thoughtful, will help her to be a better servant. One now and then meets with servant girls who are an ornament to their class. Good girls who have been in good families for years, who lead quiet, regular, useful lives, with an instinctive taste for propriety and love of knowledge, often acquire great refinement, and do not linger far behind the young ladies of the household. Such not unfrequent instances are full of promise and encouragement. There will never be a time in which there will not be mistress and maid; but we may hope to see the time in which the asperities of difference will be smoothed away, and the common ground of womanliness, culture, and Christianity will deepen and not disturb the relationships of service.

It will be seen, then, that I take a somewhat democratic view of the subject, and think that much else is to be seen in 'servant-galism' than that sordid vulgarity that has been familiarised to us by Mr. Leech and his school. I know a servant who goes up to town for the Royal Academy; another, being extremely partial to Mr. Dickens's works, used to go regularly to hear him read when time and money could be afforded; another, who gives hard mental study to subjects well worthy the attention of any 'person,' however superior; another, who, when the head of the household was away from home, would gather in the servants to prayers. other day an old servant, knowing her master to be in pecuniary distress, entered his study and begged him to accept all the money which she had saved in his service. There is a house close by where all the servants are old, and the youngest of all, a light, giddy housemaid, has only had the place seventeen years! In cases, some of them very notorious, in which a servant maid has married a man of high station, they often make excellent fine ladies. As a rule, however, as a friend tells me who notes them closely, these elevated young persons seem a little

The

too haughty and reserved! I have simply been speaking of cases which have fallen within my own observation. With a little inquiry the list might be easily increased, and I am sure that most observant persons will testify to the fact, that persons of much understanding and culture are at times to be found in the homely ranks of servants. I think very favourably of English servant girls as a class, although there is a particular section of them, to be presently discussed, which presents extremely unfavourable features.

There is no doubt but the change in the matter of servants has been of the most complete and extraordinary kind. Formerly, servants wanted places, but now the places want servants. Once there were a dozen servants competing for a single situation; it would now be more correct to say that there are a dozen mistresses competing for a single servant. The servant who is most sought after in the small tradesman's family-the 'general servant' who can do plain cookery -is now well nigh a domestic treasure of an unpurchaseable kind. In most country towns there is some small respectable shop-toy, fancy wool, or stationery shopwhich serves as a registry for servants. I have sometimes talked with the worthy people who have kept such shops. They seem quite astonished at the changes which have taken place in their time. Once their back-parlours would be full on market days; but now they have only occasional stragglers. Once, if a servant got the promise of a good place, they would be content to take a poor lodging and live as humbly as might be until the place should become vacant. This might even happen now in those very good places which are the prizes of servant life. But, as a rule, nothing is more illustrative of the class than an exaggerated and thoughtless independence. They give or take warning without a thought. I have heard of some who have given warning before they have been an hour in the house, because they did not think,

from the look of things, that they should be comfortable. I have known of others who have deliberately put on their bonnets and walked out of the house, refusing altogether to abide by their engagements. In some parts of the country it is not unusual for servant girls to levant during the night time, as they are quite satisfied that their mistresses will not choose to encounter the scandal and annoyance of taking legal proceedings against them for their conduct.

It will therefore be easily understood that not only are servants fewer, but in some of them, in some points of view, there is a great deterioration. But I am afraid that Iwe have all deteriorated. There is a spirit of unrest abroad, a desire for novelty, a strong taste for getting as much amusement as we can, and doing as little work as we can. Some one has truly said that in these days we are not content to sit under the shadow of our own vine and our own fig-tree, but we are deliberating whether we had not better pull up the vine and fig-tree and plant something else instead. The whole serving class now insists upon a certain amount of holiday making; and I think it must be allowed that if they get too many holidays now, there was a time when they got a great deal too few. The desire to get all the amusement possible out of life, and the fixed disinclination to do any hard work which can be avoided, is certainly not peculiar to servant-maids. It is the main origin of all the shoddy that goes on in the world, not only the shoddy of manufacturers, but the shoddy of barristers who do not get up their briefs, of writers who do not take pains with their books and articles, of parsons who preach sermons not their own, and members of parliament who act simply in accordance with their party whip. We have all got to learn the unpleasant lesson that to make any mark in the world, for any real happiness or real good, there is no solid basis other than hard work. It is rather unfair to drop down heavily on the servant lass who has been unable to make

up her mind in favour of this repellent aphorism. It is sometimes said that the progress of education has unfavourably interfered with the condition of service. I make no objection to this if you extend the remark to mistresses as well as maids. If there are servants who are unfit to be servants, there are also mistresses who are unfit to be mistresses. It is a case of Arcades ambo, the incompetent mistress and the incompetent maid. The mistress herself has received only that half education which is no education at all. She has not acquired those moral habits of selfrestraint, kindness, and consideration for others which are absolutely requisite for domestic management. She has no taste for household affairs, and has never acquired any experience in them. She has no knowledge of the nature of a servant's business, of the time it takes, and of the necessary allowances which ought to be made for a servant's condition and wants. Such a young inexperienced mistress is often harsh, dictatorial, impetuous, fickle-one who would spoil a good servant, and of course utterly breaks down with a bad one. A girl may come to her physically incompetent for her duties. She may be only fit for a light place, but from stress of circumstances she gets into the hard one that comes first to hand. very hands are unfit for rough work. Perhaps she has done well and has been petted at school and has got into sedentary habits. She has been ill-trained at her cottage. As is too often the case in an English cottage, the hardworking mother is the common household drudge, and the handsome grown girl of the family is allowed to wander and gossip about. At last she takes a place, and, with mind and habits unsettled, she has to conform to the regular order of a family. Food, shelter, wages, perquisites, holidays are all very much to her mind, but work she absolutely hates. When a servant hates her work and tries to abbreviate it, and shirks it as much as she possibly can, she must evidently be a very

Her