TOWARDS the end of the week we received a card from the town ladies.

_Vicar of Wakefield_.
THE curate was gone, and the lessons suspended; otherwise--as like each to each as sunshine or cloud permitted--day followed day in the calm retreat of Brook-Green,--when, one morning, Mrs.Leslie, with a letter in her hand, sought Lady Vargrave, who was busied in tending the flowers of a small conservatory which she had added to the cottage, when, from various motives, and one in especial powerful and mysterious, she exchanged for so sequestered a home the luxurious villa bequeathed to her by her husband.
To flowers--those charming children of Nature, in which our age can take the same tranquil pleasure as our youth--Lady Vargrave devoted much of her monotonous and unchequered time.

She seemed to love them almost as living things; and her memory associated them with hours as bright and as fleeting as themselves.
"My dear friend," said Mrs.Leslie, "I have news for you.

My daughter, Mrs.Merton, who has been in Cornwall on a visit to her husband's mother, writes me word that she will visit us on her road home to the Rectory in B-----shire.

She will not put you much out of the way," added Mrs.Leslie, smiling, "for Mr.Merton will not accompany her; she only brings her daughter Caroline, a lively, handsome, intelligent girl, who will be enchanted with Evelyn.