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"Never talk to me; I will weep."

As You Like It.

TWICE had the dinner bell been loudly sounded by old Donald, and the family of Glenfern were all assembled, yet their fashionable guests had not appeared. Impatient of delay, Miss Jacky hastened to ascertain the cause. Presently she returned in the utmost perturbation, and announced that Lady Juliana was in bed in a high fever, and Henry nowhere to be found. The whole eight rushed upstairs to ascertain the fact, leaving the old gentleman much discomposed at this unseasonable delay.

Some time elapsed ere they again returned, which they did with lengthened faces, and in extreme perturbation. They had found their noble niece, according to Miss Jacky's report, in bed-according to Miss Grizzy's opinion, in a brain fever; as she no sooner perceived them enter, than she covered her head with the bedclothes, and continued screaming for them to be gone, till they had actually quitted the apartment."

"And what proves beyond a doubt that our sweet niece is not herself," continued poor Miss Grizzy, in a lamentable tone, "is that we appeared to her in every form but our own! She sometimes took us for cats; then thought we were ghosts haunting her; and, in short, it is impossible to tell all the things she called us; and she screams so for Harry to come and take her away that I am sure—I declare—I don't know what's come over her!"

Mrs. Douglas could scarce suppress a smile at the simplicity of the good spinsters. Her husband and she had gone out immediately after breakfast to pay a visit a few miles off, and did not return till near the dinner hour. They were therefore ignorant of all that had been acted during their absence; but as she suspected something was amiss, she requested the rest of the company would proceed to dinner, and leave her to ascertain the nature of Lady Juliana's disorder.

"Don't come near me!" shrieked her Ladyship, on hearing the door open. "Send Harry to take me away; I don't want anybody but Harry!"—and a torrent of tears, sobs, and exclamations followed.

"My dear Lady Juliana," said Mrs. Douglas, softly approaching the bed, "compose yourself; and if my presence is disagreeable to you I shall immediately withdraw."

"Oh, is it you?" cried her sister-in-law, uncovering her face at the sound of her voice. "I thought it had been these frightful old women come to torment me; and I shall die—I know I shall—if ever I look at them again. But I don't dislike you; so you may stay if you choose, though I don't want anybody but Harry to come and take me away."

A fresh fit of sobbing here impeded her utterance; and Mrs. Douglas, compassionating her distress, while she despised her folly, seated herself by the bedside, and taking her hand, in the sweetest tone of complacency attempted to soothe her into composure.

"The only way in which you can be less miserable," said Mrs. Douglas in a soothing tone, "is to support your present situation with patience, which you may do by looking forward to brighter prospects. It is possible that your stay here may be short; and it is certain that it is in your own power to render your life more agreeable by endeavouring to accommodate yourself to the peculiarities of your husband's family. No doubt they are often tiresome and ridiculous; but they are always kind and well-meaning."

"You may say what you please, but I think them all odious creatures; and I won't live here with patience; and I shan't be agreeable to them; and all the talking in the world won't make me less miserable. If you were me, you would be just the same; but you have never been in London—that's the reason."

"Pardon me," replied her sister-in-law, "I spent many years of my life there."

"You lived in London!" repeated Lady Juliana in astonishment. "And how, then, can you contrive to exist here?"

"I not only contrive to exist, but to be extremely contented with existence," said Mrs. Douglas, with a smile. Then assuming a more serious air, "I possess health, peace of mind, and the affections of a worthy husband; and I should be very undeserving of these blessings were I to give way to useless regrets or indulge in impious repinings because my happiness might once have been more perfect, and still admits of improvement."

"I don't understand you," said Lady Juliana, with a peevish yawn. "Who did you live with in London?"

"With my aunt, Lady Audley."

"With Lady Audley!" repeated her sister-in-law in accents of astonishment. "Why, I have heard of her; she lived quite in the world; and gave balls and assemblies; so that's the reason you are not so disagreeable as the rest of them. Why did you not remain with her, or marry an Englishman? But I suppose, like me, you didn't know what Scotland was!"

Happy to have excited an interest, even through the medium of childish curiosity, in the bosom of her fashionable relative, Mrs. Douglas briefly related such circumstances of her past life as she judged proper to communicate; but as she sought rather to amuse than instruct by her simple narrative, we shall allow her to pursue her charitable intentions, while we do more justice to her character by introducing her regularly to the acquaintance of our readers.

History of Mrs. Douglas.

"The selfish heart deserves the pang it feels; More generous sorrow, while it sinks, exalts, And conscious virtue mitigates the pang."