as to such things, most entirely destitute.
But so it proved—and this was the only
religious education they either of them could be
said ever to receive; so utterly, so entirely,
were all relations of this nature forgotten and
neglected in this house of profusion, where
not one single thing, but the one thing needful,
could be said to be wanting.

The story first beguiled the attention, and
then awakened the deep interest of the two
girls. From this day, a sort of acquaintance
arose with Matty, which ripened into true
affection; for Matty was, in fact, a woman of
no common order.

She gradually awakened their sympathies
with regard to subjects to her the most
deeply interesting. She led them, not unwilling,
in those paths which are indeed paths of
pleasantness and peace. She read the Bible
with them, and to them, and she taught them
the vital principle of effectual religion—the
need and the faith to pray.

I want space to follow the course of these
influences upon the soul. Imperfect they
were. Such a teacher could not lead them
very far; but she brought them on Our
Saviour's way. And though much remained
of wrong, inexperienced and unconverted—
the change was as from darkness to light.

CHAPTER THE FOURTH.

And now several years have elapsed, and
these two girls are grown up to be two
beautiful young women. They had been taken out
of the nursery when it was time to be thinking
seriously of accomplishments; and the
reign of Mrs. Nurse had closed. She was
superseded by a regular governess—a foreigner.
A French lady was chosen to undertake the
task of forming two English girls to become
English wives and mothers. The French
lady did well all that she was required to do;
for neither Mr. nor Mrs. Winstanley desired
that their beautiful daughters should receive
anything approaching to what is usually called
a solid education.

Mrs. Winstanley had not ten ideas beyond
the arrangement of a party, and the keeping
of good society. As for Julian Winstanley
himself, he detested reflection, abhorred everything
approaching to seriousness, only desired
to get through life as brilliantly and as
thoughtlessly as he could.

He was not much at home; but when at
home he required to be constantly amused, or
he found home intolerable. It was not long
before his daughters discovered this.

Till they were, what is called, introduced,
these fair girls passed their time secluded in
the school-room, and saw very little of their
parents; but when they were once brought out,
and when Mademoiselle was dismissed and
they lived in the drawing-room, they were
soon initiated.

The plan of life was one not unusual among
married people of a certain class. A large and
splendidly furnished house, in a fashionable
square in London, was home—at which about
six months of every year were passed; the
remaining six being spent either in travelling,
or at watering-places, or at some hired house
in the country. They lived as a privileged
order, severed, as by a gulf impassable, from
the lowest orders around them, and in little
communication with the highest. The last
condition was not of much importance, but
the other was fatal.

What can grow out of such a life, that is
really wholesome and good? Many, many
residents in London, escape this mischief.
They have broken down the wall of separation
which used to hide the very existence of want,
and misery, and sin, from the happier and
the better; and the obscure dwellings of the
London poor have their visiting angels, as
well as those in the country. But a
great many families still neglect this weighty
duty, and live without thought of such
things.

Mrs. Winstanley had led the regular party-going
London life for the last sixteen or
seventeen years. She was beginning to
get rather tired of it, when the new excitement
arose of having to " bring out " her
daughters.

This bringing out of her daughters
became an excuse for all kinds of amusing
changes and improvements. Her receiving-rooms
had to be newly furnished, a new open
carriage to be bought; the Queen's drawing-rooms
to be attended with more assiduity
than ever.

The girls were two lovely creatures; they
seemed to excuse, if anything could, the
expenses thus incurred on their behalf. So said
the mother, and so thought the father. The love
he felt for his daughters was perhaps the only
tender feeling he had ever experienced in his
life; for, in general, he might be said to love
nothing, not even himself.

It might have been the dawn of a better
life, this well-spring of pure affections, could
he have worthily indulged them. But neither
his own nor his wife's habits admitted of
that.

Mrs. Winstanley would have thought it
a disgrace if she had been one single evening
disengaged whilst they were in London. Even
in the dead winter she managed to keep up
the ball; what with little parties and
concerts, the opera, the French plays, and so
forth, she contrived to escape the horror of
a domestic evening. As for Mr. Winstanley,
he seldom or never dined at home; except
when there was a dinner-party. He spent
his evenings at his clubs, engaged—he too well
knew how.

The two girls presented a striking
contrast to each other. Clementina was fair
and delicate, with soft hair, and those tender
blue eyes, which to me are the most charming
of all eyes. Ella was a noble creature;
a figure and form the most perfect that I