Ethel, if not happy, was calm—almost content; every day brought its duties, sweetened by affection; and, in her grandmother's comfort she found her own.
Mrs. Churchill had given up urging Ethel into a round of gaiety, which suited neither her health nor her spirits. She could not but feel the tender care that watched her least look, yet was always as submissive as it was anxious. She had been a long time in discovering that Ethel was no longer a child; but she now softened down a thousand prejudices by daily counsel with one who was a gentle and intelligent companion. Ethel resolutely turned her thoughts from the past; and, if she could not look to the future, at least she forced them to occupy themselves with the present. The bitterness of a first great despair had passed; but the traces would linger, despite every effort. Her step was no longer buoyant, and her laugh was no longer heard rising suddenly, like the notes of a bird; she had a look of weariness when she tried any of her old amusements. Unless at her grand-
