I ever shall be, that is, the least thing that excites me and Mr. Josceline fell back in his chair with a groan of pain.

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Ella flew to the bell, and then to her father's side. Esther, tell Dr. Cooper to come to papa directly. He has not left the house, I think, but if he has, send for him at once.'

Ella was frightened, but she was not one of those whom alarm deprives of their presence of mind.

She loosened her father's neckerchief and wheeled his chair to the window.

In a few minutes, which seemed, however, an age to her, Dr. Cooper arrived.

'Oh, Doctor, what is the matter?' she whispered, after he had felt the now unconscious patient's pulse and made his investigations.

'My poor child, you must bear up,' said he evasively; it is very hard for you to have to be sick nurse so soon again.'

Then two of the hotel servants came in and carried her father up to his room, and he was put to bed. And Ella took her place by his pillow.

ON the very morning that Mr. Josceline was taken ill, and while the inmates of the Ultramarine were for the most part unconscious of that event, a curious scene took place in the ladies' drawing-room. This apartment was intended for the use, not only of the fair sex, but of such gentlemen as had female belongings; but, thanks to the awe inspired by Mrs. Armytage, it was seldom intruded upon by males. That excellent lady was fond of reading yesterday's newspaper (at Wallington Bay it arrived the morning after publication) not only aloud, but in a fine sonorous voice which demanded attention; and, though women will endure considerable infliction of that kind, men will not. Poor Mr. Percival

Lott, having ventured one morning within these sacred precincts in search of his wife (which made her more suspected, by-the-by, of being a bride than ever), was seized by the glittering eye of Mrs. Armytage, and compelled to listen to three leading articles, with that lady's comments thereon, before he could make his escape. After which terrible experience the place was shunned of man.

On the occasion, therefore, to which we refer, only ladies were present: as it happened, all those with whom we have made acquaintance, except Mrs. Wallace, were of the party. There was no danger from the newspaper at present, for it was airing, as usual, by the kitchen fire, and every one was engaged with the correspondence which had arrived for them by the morning's post. Mrs. Armytage, who had always a perfect sheaf of letters, was selecting such passages from them as she deemed adapted for public reading, chiefly concerning the experiences of the Browns and Joneses of her acquaintance with their domestic servants; but 'Oh, indeed' or 'You don't say so' were

the only signs of interest she had succeeded in exciting; when suddenly she cried 'Oh, good gracious!' and every one looked up at her, as well they might, in wonder. Her face was red with excitement; her eyes were gleaming with fire; the hand that held the communication she had just opened fairly trembled with agitation.

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'Oh, the villain!' she cried; the treacherous, hypocritical villain!'

One would really have thought that some one had been trifling with her mature affections, and that she had found him out.

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What is the matter?' inquired Mrs. Jennynge.

Everything is the matter,' was the other's comprehensive reply. We have been imposed upon, tricked, made fools of; and of all the people in this world, by Mr. Josceline. He's an impostor.'

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Why, you don't mean to say that he is not an Honourable after all?' exclaimed Mrs. Percival Lott, who had certainly treated the gentleman in question with an affability (to say

the least of it) that she would not have accorded to any male unconnected with the aristocracy. She made a picture in her brain of a swindler of the first class, who among other goods obtained under false pretences, could boast of some fancy articles.

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He may be an Honourable by birth,' replied Mrs. Armytage, but his behaviour has been very much the reverse of it.'

Mrs. Percival Lott gave a sigh of relief. It was a comfort to find that whatever he had done he was still genuine.

'You don't mean to say that he is a married man?' inquired Mrs. Jennynge, in such a quavering voice that, had Mrs. Armytage had her senses about her as usual, she would have drawn her deductions from it at once; but her mind was too much occupied with the tremendous news she had in store, to pay attention to anything else.

'Married! He is far worse than married,' cried she. He is a disgraced clergyman; his living is sequestered' (a slight mistake of Mrs. Armytage's for 'sequestrated; but what