but parents possess such rights as to make it strange that, in default of their claims, of which perhaps death may have deprived you, your silence respecting an accident which has blessed us with your society during a few short weeks, has spared the feelings of more distant relatives, who may expect with less solicitude than would be a father or a mother's portion. Am I right? And if I am, have we no claims to urge? Oh, Zorilda! I know not how to part with you."

"Dear generous being!" exclaimed Zorilda, embracing her friend. "Such confidence must and shall be requited. Yes, you shall one day be made acquainted with the mysterious circumstances."

At this moment, a tap at the dressing-room door, was followed by the entrance of Lady Cecil, leaning on the arm of her son.

"I will ask Miss Gordon myself," said the former, as if in continuation of preceding discourse with Lionel.

"We were just talking, my dear, of your uncommon name, which I maintain is Spanish, and as you know that I am a bit of a genealogist, I have been puzzling my brain to recollect how it happened to fall amongst the Gordons. Now that you are able to speak without fatigue, you shall tell us all about it. I dare say that there is some romantic tale of other days which I shall delight to hear, though I much wonder that my excellent friend of Drumcairn—"

"Drumcairn! Good Heavens do you know the Gordons of Drumcairn?" interrupted Zorilda, whose sudden surprise sent a vivid blush into her cheeks, which was followed by the lily's hue.

"To be sure I do. The Gordons of Drumcairn? They were here last summer. Mr. Gordon is one of my oldest friends, one of the best families in Europe. How is he related to you, my dear? I am so glad that I happened to mention Drumcairn!"

"It is to Drumcairn that I am going," said Zorilda, deeply agitated.

"Well, well, this is really quite a hit," answered Lady Cecil, "and I see that you are as much struck by the coincidence as I am. But how can all this be? You are not niece to my good friend; for, if I remember rightly, his brother left only two sons behind him. Then for his sisters; the elder, Janet, married a Mackensie; and the younger a Stuart. How do you stand, my dear, with respect to the Drumcairn branch? I am quite charmed to find out who you are, and you have the Gordon features too."

Zorilda never was formed for dissimulation of any kind, and, though she met a glance of transport from Clara's eye, and felt an answering gleam of joy from Lionel's countenance, she quickly dispelled both the one and the other by confessing the truth.

"The family of Drumcairn are not related to me at all, except by the tenderest friendship on their parts towards a solitary orphan," replied Zorilda.

Lady Cecil drew back, and with less beaming aspect, looked steadily at her blushing guest.

"I beg your pardon, my young friend," said she, "perhaps I distress you; but I thought I knew every Gordon in the world," and with a half disdainful, half incredulous air, added, "perhaps it is better to inquire no farther; all people do not trouble their heads about relationship after my fashion, you have no taste for heraldry I suppose."

So saying, Lady Cecil rose from her chair to leave the room, when Zorilda caught her hand, and bursting into tears drew it towards her lips.

"Accept, oh, accept the most grateful tribute of a broken heart. I have no right to the name of Gordon, and never assumed it. You shall not be deceived as the base return for all your goodness. Dear Madam, I am, it is true, without a name, and know little of a science with which I have no concern; but I have a glowing sense of all I owe to your generous hospitality; and alas! I can only repay it by lowering myself in your esteem. In two days I shall quit your princely abode, and may never have the happiness of beholding you again. Before I leave De Lacy castle Miss Cecil shall be put in possession of my sad, my romantic story."

Zorilda's emotion would scarcely permit her to utter these words. Lady Cecil appeared agitated also. She was naturally enough shocked by any appearance of deception in one whom she had harboured so long under the roof with her only daughter. Yet the purity and candour of Zorilda's whole deportment, seemed to repel all doubt. Again, she felt glad that one day more would conclude the adventure, and while she rejoiced in getting rid of one in whose station in society she was disappointed, she felt it a pity to spoil preceding kindness by a cold farewell.

Perhaps the most awkward and angry feeling in Lady Cecil's mind, arose at this instant from the recollection that she had laid herself open to a smile of ridicule, by her discovery of that strong likeness to the Gordon physiognomy, for which it now appeared there was no foundation. In short, whatever were the combination, her feelings were not pleasant, and beckoning to her son, whose countenance betrayed the deep interest which he took in the scene, she slightly inclined her head, and left the room.

"I have lost your mother's favour," said Zorilda, as she leaned on the bosom of her weeping friend, "but I must not repine. "Who is she?" was the brand set on the frontlet which bound my infant brows, and it is indelible. Will Clara, too, cast me off, and hate me because I have none other to love and shelter me?"

"I would give my life for you," replied her friend, "and so would—" but, suddenly pausing, Zorilda entreated her to leave the apartment. "My time is short," added she, "and I must set all things in order for my departure. You shall have my narrative to-night, for I am resolved to go to-morrow; read it to your family, and return it to me before you retire to rest. I will avoid seeing Sir Godfrey and Lady Cecil again; my presence can only distress them; but my gratitude will only end with life, and memory, my Clara, will not be exercised in far distant retrospects. My days will be few, and sorrowful: I feel it here (as she laid her hand upon her heart), and Zorilda will soon have passed away like an evening shadow."

A fond embrace was all the comfort which Clara could impart, and she withdrew with feelings of wonder, sympathy, and admiration, too big for expression.

Rachel received orders to prepare for the journey, and never felt less inclined to obey than upon this occasion. She could have spent the remnant of her days well pleased in the luxurious ease of De Lacy castle, and had been long indulging a secret hope that two people, so formed for each other as its young Lord and her gentle mistress, should one day conclude the romance which brought them together in the usual way, by a happy union. Rachel loved a novel, next to her tea, better than any earthly solace, and had found rich stores of literary food, as well as Congo, at the castle; but in all her reading she had never stumbled upon a single instance in which faithful love was not rewarded. Now, that Lionel loved Zorilda was her firm persuasion, not only because Rachel could not imagine any one secure against the attractions of her mistress, but she had too much sagacity, not to interpret the thousand kind attentions which she received herself from Mr. Cecil, as well as the pleasure which he seemed to feel in talking of Zorilda's improved health and appearance.

But Rachel buried these happy thoughts in her own breast, as, though Zorilda's manners were of dove-like softness, there was a native dignity in her demeanour which repelled all attempt at vulgar familiarity; and Rachel had sufficient tact to know exactly how far she might go, and where it was prudent to