of religion than themselves-do not add to that suffering which they must bear by treating that colour-blindness as unbelief, and do not vex their hearts and try their faith by, as it were, waving in their faces some spiritual joy which you feel they cannot share. As well blame a cripple for not joining in a dance. See if you cannot give them joys which they can understand, and realise that their lot is necessarily a less bright one than that of those with fuller vision.

Business and Sympathy.-Do not let your talent for business develop so quickly as to choke your natural sympathy with suffering. A 'Sister' of great experience once told me she believed the religious worker's great temptation was to allow charity to become business.

Addio, dear; this is such a very jotty letter, I fear it will disappoint you. When I get back to town you must come and talk things over, and we will have muffins for tea.-Ever yours, with love,-ROMAN LAUrel.

St. Margaret's House, Bethnal Green.

DEAR MADAM,-Many readers of the 'Monthly Packet' probably know that for ten years Oxford men have been making an organized attempt to meet, by all kinds of religious and social work, the needs of East London, at what is known as the Oxford House in Bethnal Green. About five years ago it was felt that their work among men needed the co-operation of the various kinds of work that only women can do for women; and, at first in combination with the Cheltenham Settlement, and now in what it is hoped will be more permanent quarters at St. Margaret's House, ladies are working with this object. The House is intended to be, in the first place, a place of residence for permanent workers, and, in the second, a centre for those who can only give occasional help, whether as visitors for a few weeks or months, or, when living in London, for one or more afternoons or evenings in the week. The work that is done there may be classified under the heads of (1) a Girls' Club, which meets in the House; (2) all kinds of parish work, for which, in the dearth of educated women in the Bethnal Green parishes, there is great need; (3) work for the various Societies which have branches in the district, such as the Charity Organization Society, the Society for Befriending Young Servants, and the Children's Country Holiday Fund; (4) Workhouse and Hospital visiting. More workers, permanent, temporary, and occasional, are greatly needed, and would find abundance of work and the help and stimulus of a common life; funds are also needed, especially in the form of annual subscriptions, as the payments of the residents only cover housekeeping expenses, and a sum of about eighty pounds a year is required, in addition to the present subscriptions, for rent, rates and taxes, and necessary repairs. Gifts of money, Hospital and Convalescent Letters, etc., are also much wanted for the relief of sickness and distress.

It is thought that if the existence and work of the House were more widely known, many, especially of those who care for Oxford, and who sympathise in the wish that what has made Oxford great should be shared, at least to some extent, by the hard-worked people of our crowded towns, would be willing to help on the work.

All inquiries and offers of help should be addressed to the head of the House, Miss Harington, St. Margaret's House, Bethnal Green, E.; subscriptions and donations to one of the treasurers-Henry Hussey, Esq., 5, Albert Street, Victoria Square, S.W.; and Miss Anson, All Souls' College, Oxford. Yours faithfully,-MARY TALBOT.

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THE MONTHLY PACKET.

NEW SERIES.

AUGUST, 1894.

MY LADY ROTHA,

A ROMANCE.

BY STANLEY WEYMAN, AUTHOR OF 'A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,' 'THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF,' ETC.

Copyrighted in America by Stanley J. Weyman, 1894.

CHAPTER XXII.

GREEK AND GREEK.

WHAT my lady's thoughts were during her long ride back to the camp, I do not know. But I have heard her say that when she rode into the village, a day and a half in advance of the dusty, lumbering convoy, she could scarcely believe that it was the place she had left, the place in which she had lived for a fortnight. And this, though all remained the same. So much does the point from which we look at things alter their aspect.

The general had sent on the news of the Waldgrave's loss by messenger, that she might be spared the pain of telling it; and Fraulein Max and Marie Wort were waiting on the wooden platform before the house when she rode wearily in. The sight of those two gave her a certain sense of relief and home coming, merely because they were women and wore petticoats. But that was all. The village, the reeking camp, the squalid. soldiery, the whining beggars filled her-now that her eyes were opened and she saw this ugly face of war stripped of the glamour with which her fancy had invested it-with fear and repulsion. She wondered that she could ever have liked the place and been gay in it, or drawn pleasure from the amusements which now seemed poor and tawdry.

VOL. 88 (VIII.-NEW SERIES).

9

NO. 522.

Fraulein Max ran down into the road to meet her, and when she had dismounted, covered her with tearful caresses. But the Countess, after receiving her greetings, still looked wistfully round as if she missed some one; and then in a moment moved from her, and mounting the steps went swiftly to the dark corner by the porch whither Marie Wort had run, and where she now stood, leaning against the house with her face to the wall.

My lady, whom few had ever seen unbend, took the girl in her arms, and laid her head on her shoulder and stroked her hair pitifully.

'Hush, child, hush!' she murmured, her eyes wet with tears. Poor child, poor child! Is it so very bad?'

But Marie could only sob.

They went into the house in a moment after that; those three, with the waiting-women. And then such a change came over the Countess that Fraulein Max blinked to see it. For she who, outside, had been so tender, began, before her riding cloak was off, to walk up and down like a caged wolf; with hard eyes and cheeks burning with indignation. Fraulein Max spoke to her timidly-said that the meal was ready, that my lady's woman was waiting, that my lady must be tired. But the Countess put her by almost with an oath. For hours she had been playing a part, a thing her proud soul loathed. For hours she had hidden, not her sorrow only and her anger, but her anxieties, her fears, her terrors. Now she must be herself or die

Besides, the thing pressed! She had her woman's wits, and might stave off the general's offer for a few days, for a week. But a week-what was that? No wonder that she looked on the four helpless women round her, and realised that these were her only helpers now, her only protection; no wonder that she cried out.

'I have been a fool!' she said, looking at them with burning eyes. When Martin warned me, I would not listen; when the Waldgrave hinted, I laughed at him. I was bewitched like a silly child in her teens! Don't contradict me!' And she stamped her foot impatiently. Fraulein Max had raised her hand.

'I don't,' the Fraulein answered. 'I don't understand you.'

'Do you understand that empty chair?' my lady cried bitterly. 'Or that empty stool?'

'But war,' she said

Fraulein Anna blinked more and more. mildly—'a necessary evil, Voetius calls it-war, Countess' 'Oh!' my lady cried in a fury. As carried on by these, it is a horror, a fiendish thing! I did not know before. Now I have seen it. Wait, girl, wait, until it takes those you love, and threatens your own safety, and then talk to me of war!'

But Fraulein Anna set her face mutinously. Still, I do not understand,' she said slowly, winking her short-sighted eyes like an owl in the daylight. You talk as if we had cause not only to grieve-as we have, indeed-but to fear. Are we not safe here? General Tzerclas

'Bah!' the Countess cried, trembling with emotion. 'Don't let me hear his name! I hate him. He is false. False, girl. I do not trust him; I do not believe him; and I would to Heaven we were all out of his hands!'

Even Marie Wort, sitting white and quiet in a corner, looked up at that. As for Fraulein Max, she passed her tongue slowly over her lips, but did not answer; and for a moment there was silence in the room. Then Marie said softly, 'Thank God!'

My lady turned to her roughly. 'Why do you say that?' she asked.

'Because of something I have learned since you left us,' the girl answered, in a frightened whisper. 'There was a man who lived in this house, my lady.'

'Yes, yes?" the Countess muttered eagerly. "I remember he begged of me, and General Tzerclas gave him money. That was one of the things that blinded me.'

'He hung him afterwards,' the girl whispered in a shaking voice. By the river, in the south-east corner of the camp.'

The Countess stared at her incredulously, rage and horror in her face. That man whom I saw?' she cried. 'It is not possible! You have been deceived.'

But Marie Wort shook her head. 'It is true,' she said simply. 'Then Heaven help us-all!' the Countess whispered in a thrilling tone. For we are in that man's power!'

There was a stricken silence after that, which lasted some minutes. The room seemed to grow darker, the house more silent, the road on which they looked through the unglazed window more dusty, squalid, dreary-dreary with the summer dreariness of drought. One of the waiting-women began to cry. The others stood bolt upright, looking out with startled eyes, and lips half open.