the room, and as she threw open the casement, she felt a foretaste of liberty as the fresh air from the garden swept across her cheek. Every thing appeared to be wrapt in silent repose. Dark clouds scudded rapidly to the north-west beneath the more continuous cloud above them, and the rustling branches, as they bent to the breeze, were the only objects in motion. Nothing could be more favourable for enterprise. Helen, for some minutes, looked cautiously on every side, then, with a full heart, commending herself to the care of that gracious Being, whose servant she most truly was, she mounted the windowsill, leapt lightly on the sward, and, in the next instant, was effectually concealed beneath the shadow of the trees. Keeping as much under the boughs as possible, she soon found herself beneath the wall of the garden. This proved higher than she anticipated; but it was happily a dry stone fence, and by the aid of her lock staple, she was enabled, in a short time, to displace some of the stones, and obtain a footing. With desperate determination she leapt forward into the darkness, and with heartfelt thankfulness, inhaled the free breath of Heaven. The hill-side looming gigantically through the obscurity stretched up before her; but whither to turn, she knew not. To remain, however, was ruin, and with the characteristic decision of her sex, she drew the cloak around her, and breasted the hill boldly. She had not proceeded a hundred yards, when a voice, mingling with the gust of the wind, struck upon her ear. Nothing seemed more dangerous, she conceived, than association in the neighbourhood of the convent; but the hysteric cry of anguish that followed her as she hastened to fly arrested her steps. It had been uttered by the lay sister who had attended upon her, and who, divining with more judgment than she ap peared to possess, the intention of Helen had determined to accompany her. Uncertain where the fair protestant might emerge from the premises, she had nearly been left behind. Fear gave wings to her feet, and though nearly fainting from exhaustion, she, at length, succeeded in overtaking Helen, and stating to her that she had friends in the neighbourhood offered her an asylum for the present. This was a proposal too consonant to Helen's feelings to be resisted, and proceeding over the hill, after a walk of a little more than one hour and a half, Helen, with grateful thankfulness, found a temporary refuge and rest in the cottage of Sarah's brother. CHAPTER XV. If nature then Lay tame beneath her weight of earth, Thus Man through granile Fate must find CHARLES SWAIN. THE long, bright rays of a summer sun were slanting rapidly towards the west, giving an additional brilliany to the twinkling leaves in a lovely garden, as Edith Dornford sat at an open window in West Cornfield parsonage. On her countenance there were the traces of recent and severe illness; that attenuation of form also was evident which is occasioned by the long sorrow of heart, that brings with it the development of those holier feelings and those higher qualities of the mind which accompany a putting away of the world, and of worldly things. Her hands were occupied on a piece of tambour work; but her thoughts seemed to wander far from their employment; and partly from weakness, and partly from the musings of her heart, the frame was frequently laid upon the little table beside her. Months had elapsed, since she had been rescued from the power of Derivale; but the shock she then experienced had only been alleviated-its effects still remained. Immediately on the attack of the party under him, and her subsequent discovery of the falsehood of his character, one fit of insensibility had succeeded another. ; But she had been tenderly cared for and when, at length, her faculties began to resume their healthy play, it was with |