104 ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS.

this hand in the fire, ay, and suffer it to smoul-
der into ashes, to punish the woman who called
me a proud parvenue! She did so before I
had been a week in London. Her cold calm
face has been a curse to me ever since. She
has stood, the destroying angel, at the gate of
my paradise, poisoning every enjoyment. Let
me but humble her,” she continued, rising
proudly from the sofa upon which she had been
resting; ‘let me but humble her, and I shall
feel a triumphant woman! For that I have
watched and waited; anxiety for that caused
me the loss of my child; but if Ivers succeeds,
I shall be repaid.”
Rose shuddered. Was it really true, that
having achieved the wealth, the distinction she
panted for, she was still anxious to mount high-
er? Was it possible that wealth, station, gene-
ral admiration, and the devoted affection of a
tender husband did not satisfy the humbly-born
beauty of an obscure English village? Again
Helen spoke; she told how she had at last suc-
ceeded in rousing her husband to exertion—how,
with an art worthy a better cause, she had _per-
suaded him that his country demanded his as-
sistance—how he had been led almost to believe
that the safety of England was in the hands of
the freeholders of L ; and then she pictur-
ed her own triumph, as the wife of the successful
candidate, over the woman who had called her
a parvenue,

 

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