"Though Mr. Cavendish talks in that way," said Mrs. Wilberforce aside to Minnie," as though he wanted employ ment so much, he has a very nice little fortune of his own. It is just his way of talking. And as for connection, there is no one better. His father is a cousin -it may be a good many times removed, but still it is quite traceable of the Duke. I am not sure, even, that they are not in the peerage as collaterals; indeed, I am almost sure they are, and that we should find him there and every thing about him, if we looked."

"Of course everybody knows they are very well connected," said Minnie, "but young men all talk nonsense. Listen to Theo! Why should n't he go back to Oxford and take his degree, like other people? I don't care about the class. A gentleman need not be particularly clever; but if he has been at the University and does not take his degree, it is always supposed that there is some reason. I don't think it is respectable, for my part."

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Ah, my dear, the young men of the present day they are a law to themselves," said her friend. "They don't care for what is respectable. Indeed, so far as I can see, they make it a sort of reproach; they let nobodies pick up the prizes. And what do they expect it is all to end in? I could tell them very well, if they would listen to me. The French Revolution is what it will end in; but of course they will not listen to anything one can say."

"Oh, you know we are Liberals," cried Minnie ; 66 we don't go in with all that."

"If you are going to town to-morrow, I don't mind if I go with you," said Warrender. "I have some business to look after. At least, it is not exactly business," for he saw his mother's eyes turned on him inquiringly; "it is a commission from a friend. I shall only stay the day, mother; you need not look so surprised."

"It will do you good," she said, quietly. "And why should you hurry back? You will be the better for the change."

He gave her a suspicious, half-angry look, as if he saw more in her words than met the eye. 66 I shall be back in the evening," he said.

"I will do all I can to upset his good resolutions, Mrs. Warrender. He shall go to all sorts of riotous places, to keep me in countenance. If he can be beguiled into any little improprieties, I am your man."

"Don't be afraid," said the rector. "Dick's wickednesses are all theoretical. I'd trust Georgie in the worst haunt he knows."

Dick looked up with a laugh, with some light word of contradiction; and in a moment there gleamed before him, as by the touching of a spring, as by the opening of a door, the real state of the case so far as he was himself concerned. The present scene melted away to give place to another, to others which were burnt upon his memory in lines of fire; to one which he could see in his imagination, with which he had a horrible connection, which he could not dismiss out of his thoughts, though he was in reality a fugitive from it, flying the vicinity, the possible sight, the spectre of a ruin which was beyond description. Merely to think of this amid an innocent company, around this decorous table, brought a sickening sensation, a giddiness both mental and physical. He turned his head away from the eyes of the mother, who he felt must in her experience divine something from the expression in his, to meet the pleased and guileless look with which Chatty was listening to that laughing disclaimer which he had just made. She was sitting by his side, saying nothing herself, listening to the talk, amused and almost excited by the new voice, the little play of light intercourse; even the charm of a new voice was something to Chatty.

Warrender walked back with the party as far as the rectory gate. Indeed, so simple was the place, the entire family came out with them, straying along under the thick shade of the trees to the little gate.

XV.

Dick was astir very early next morning. He did his packing hurriedly, and strolled out in the freshness of the early day. But not to enjoy the morning sunshine. He walked along resolutely towards the house which had suddenly acquired for him so painful an interest. For why? With no intention of visiting it; with a certainty that he would see no one there; perhaps with an idea of justifying himself to himself for flying from its neighborhood, for putting distance, at least the breadth of the island, between him and that place, which he could not henceforward get out of his mind. To think that he had come here so lightly two days ago with his old uncle's commission, and that now no inducement in the world, except death or hopeless necessity, could make him cross that threshold. If the woman were on her death-bed, yes; if she were abandoned by all and without other help, as well might be, as would be, without doubt, one time or another. But for nothing else, nothing less. He walked along under the wall, and round the dark shrubberies behind, which envel oped the house. All was quiet and peace for the moment, at least; the curtains drawn over the windows; the household late of stirring; no lively housewife there to rouse maids and men, and stir up a wholesome sound of living. The young man's cheerful face was stern as he made this round, like a sentinel, thinking of many things that were deep in the gulf of the past two years of his life which looked like a life-time, and which were over, with all the horrors that were in them, and done with, and never to be recalled again. He was still young, and yet how much older than any one was aware! Twenty-seven, yet with two lives behind him: one that of youth, to which he had endeavored to piece his renewed existence; and the

It was a lovely summer night, as different as possible from the haze and chill of the preceding one, with a little new moon just disappearing, and everything softened and whitened by her soft presence in the sky. Mrs. Wilberforce and Minnie went first, invisible in the dimness of the evening, then the two solid darknesses of the rector and Warrender. Dick came behind with Mrs. Warrender, and Chatty followed a step in the rear of all. The mother talked softly, but more frankly than she had done as yet. She told him that their home henceforward would probably be in Highcombe, not here, "That is, not yet, perhaps, but soon," she said, with a little eagerness not like the melancholy tone with which a new-made widow talks of leaving her home, and that it would please her to see him there, if, according to the common formula, "he ever came that way." And Dick declared with a little fervor which was unnecessary that Highcombe was very much in his way, that it would be always a pleasure to come. Why should he have said it? He had no right to say it; for he knew, though he could not see, with once more that pang of mingled pleasure and misery, that there was a look of pleased satisfaction on Chatty's face as she came softly in the darkness behind.

other all complete and ended, a tragedy, yet like many tragedies in life, cut off not by death. Not by death: for here were both the actors again within reach of each other, one within the sleeping house, one outside in the fresh air of the morning, with a gulf like that between Dives and Lazarus, a gulf which no man might cross, of disgust and loathing, of pain and hatred, between.

The door in the wall opened stealthily, softly, and some one came out. It was so early that such precautions seemed scarcely necessary. Perhaps it was in fear of this encounter which was actually taking place that Lizzie looked round so jealously. If so, her precautions were useless, as she stepped out immediately in front of the passenger He

whom she most desired to avoid. did not speak to her for a moment, but walked on, quickening his pace as hers fluttered into a run, as if to escape him. "Stop," he said at length. "You need not take the trouble to conceal yourself from me."

"I'm not concealing anything," said Lizzie, half angry, half sullen, with a flush on her face. "I've done nothing wrong," she added, quickly.

"I don't say you've done anything wrong; for what I can tell, you may be doing the work of an angel."

She looked up at him eagerly, and the tears sprang to her eyes. "I don't know for that I I don't ask nothing but not to be blamed."

--

"Lizzie," he said, "you were always a good girl, and to be faithful as you seem may, for anything I know, be angels' work. I could not do it, for my part."

"Oh, no," she said, hurriedly. "It would not be looked for from you, oh, no, no!"

"But think, if you were to ruin yourself," he said. "The rector saw you, the other day, but he will say nothing. Yet think if others saw you."

"Sir," cried Lizzie, drawing back, "it

"Silence! cried Dick, with a voice that was like the report of deep guns. "If trouble comes, let me know. She must not want or be miserable. There is my address. Do not apply to me unless there is absolute need; but if that happens, write, telegraph, no matter which; help shall come."

"And what am I to do with a gentleman's card?" said Lizzie. "Granny or some one will be sure to see it. It will drop out of my pocket, or it will be seen in my drawers, or something. And if I were to die it would be found, and folks would think badly of me. I will not take your card.”

"This is folly, Lizzie.”

"If it is, folly 's natural. I don't believe there will be any need; but if there is, I'll find you out, if it's wanted, but I won't take the card. Will you please, sir, to walk on? I've got my character to think of."

The girl stopped short, leaning against the corner of the wall, defying him, though she was not hostile to him. He put back his card in his pocket, and took off his hat, a token of respect which brought the color to Lizzie's cheek.

"Go away, sir; I've got my character to think of," she said. Then she curtsied deeply, with a certain dignity. in her rustic manners. "Thank you,"

she said, "all the same."

Dick walked into the rector's diningroom with little Georgie seated on his shoulder. "Fancy where we found him,

mamma!" said Flo. "Buying barley sugar from old Mrs. Bagley at the shop. What does a gentleman want with barley sugar? He is too old. You never eat it, nor papa."

"He give it all to me," said Georgie, "and Fluffy had some. Fluffy and me, we are very fond of Mr. Cavendish. Don't go away, Mr. Cavendish, or come back to-morrow."

"Yes, tum back to-morrow," cried the other little ones. Flo was old enough to know that the future had vistas deeper than to-morrow. She said, "Don't be so silly, all you little things. If he was coming back to-morrow, why should he go to-day? He will come back another time."

"When dere's need ob him," said his little godson gravely; at which there was much laughing. But for his part Dick did not laugh. He hid his serious countenance behind little Dick's curly head, and thus nobody knew that there was not upon it even a smile.

At Underwood, which is a very small village, there is no station; so that Dick had to be driven over in the wagonette, the rector making this an occasion to give the children and the governess a drive, which left the two gentlemen no opportunity to say much to each other. They had a moment for a last word solely at the door of the railway carriage, in which Warrender had already taken his place. The rector said, hesitating, "And you won't forget? Tell Mr. Cornwall if he refuses to do any thing, so as to drive these people away, it will be the kindest thing he can do for the parish. Tell him ". But here the guard interposed to examine the tickets, and there was a slamming of doors and a shriek of whistles, and the train glided away.

"I think I understand what Wilberforce means," said Warrender. "He is speaking of that house. Oh, you need not smile; nothing could be more entirely out of my way."

I remember. Lord Markland, whoHe died, did n't he? It may not be a satisfactory household, but still he may have gone there without any harm."

"Oh, I don't suppose there was any harm; except the love of bad company; that seems a fascination which some men cannot resist. I don't care two straws myself whether there was harm or not; but it is a bitter sort of recollection for her."

"They were both quite young, were they not?"

"Markland was over thirty," said the young man, who was but twenty-two; "and she is oh, she is, I suppose, about my age."

He knew, indeed, exactly what was her age; but what did that matter to a stranger? She was superior to him in that as in all other things.

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"I have heard they were not very happy," Dick said. He cared no more

for the Marklands than he did for the domestic concerns of the guard who had looked at his ticket two minutes ago; but anything answered for conversation, which in the present state of his mind he could not exert himself to make brilliant.

"Oh, happy!" cried Warrender. "How could they be happy? She a woman with the finest perceptions, and a mind such as you seldom find in a woman; and he the sort of person who could take his pleasure in the conversation that goes on in a house like that."

Dick did not say anything for some time; he felt as though all the people he met were under some horrible compul