The two equestrians had ridden beyond the crowded mall, past the fort, almost to the Coolybazaar, and were therefore alone upon the road. Peregrine spoke loudly and angrily, and flourished his whip, as he spoke.

There was a pause, which Julian Jenks was the first to break. "Have you contradicted the re

port?" he asked.

"Dear me! no-I have not," returned Peregrine," although I had started on my way to the printing-office, and now I shall be too late-it must be near seven, and I have promised to dine with the Sweetenhams."

"Shall I go there for you?" asked Julian Jenks, who was engaged to dine out too, but thought that if he could be of use to his friend, it would not matter being late for dinner.

"Thank you, my dear fellow," said Peregrine. "I wish you would-you are really very kindand try and find out, will you, who is the author of the hoax. Get hold of the manuscript if you can." "Yes, I will," returned Julian Jenks, "I will go at once-suppose we turn now. I will let you know as soon as I can."

They turned their horses' heads towards Calcutta, and cantered up the course together; when they had reached the end of it, Julian Jenks rode on, but Peregrine drew up his horse, turned round, walked a short distance, looking out, as well as the coming darkness would let him, for the Sweeten

hams' carriage, and, failing to discern it in the mass, galloped home to their house in Chowringhee.

They had returned before him. Peregrine hastened to the room, wherein he always made his toilet, dressed as quickly as he could, and then hurried to the drawing-room, where he found Augusta waiting for him alone.

"Now, tell me," she said, as soon as Peregrine had seated himself on the sofa beside her; "tell me why it was that all the people looked so strangely at me to-day?"

"You must promise not to be angry with me then," returned Peregrine, sliding his arm round the young lady's waist.

"Yes," said Augusta, "that I will-for I am sure it was not your

fault."

"Well," returned Peregrine, "the fact is, that some mischievous, jealous person or other, has inserted in one of the newspapers, a report of our marriage."

"And that is all-is it?" asked Augusta, laughing. "Well, that does not much matter."

There was something strained and hollow in her laugh-Peregrine thought that it was artificial. There was nobody in the room and so he kissed her. She pressed her cheek against his; it was burningly hot, and there was a wildness in her eyes.

"I am glad that you do not care," said Peregrine-" I was afraid that you would be annoyed and then perhaps❞

"Then what?"

"Begin," continued Peregrine, "to talk, or at all events to think about the ill effects of our intimacy. I am glad you do not; and after all, what does it matter?-every body will know it to be a lie."

"A lie?" repeated Augusta, in a vague, melancholy tone, her eyes fixed on the ground-" a lie?"

"Yes," continued Peregrine-"a lie"-and he drew the fair girl closer to his side. "Alas! alas ! nothing but a lie. Oh! God! that it had been truth!"

"Truth?"-echoed Augusta Sweetenham.

The word was spoken-there was no use recalling it-Peregrine's cheek burned as hotly as Augusta's. It was good for both parties that at this moment a servant entered the room, and gave our hero a chit; before the bearer had taken his departure, Augusta had quite recovered herself, and there were no further revelations that night.

"Bahut bahut salaam do," said Peregrine to the servant, and then turning to Augusta, he continued, "I have got a note from my friend Jenks, who has been to the newspaper-office to inquire about the hoax; but he cannot gain any information-the manuscript is not forthcoming, and all they know is, that the chit was brought by a peon -and that it was written apparently in a lady's hand, so there is no use trying any further."

'None," said Augusta, quite calmly; "but be

*Give my best compliments.

sure that you write at once to your little girl, to tell her that it is all a falsehood. I would not for the world that she should read the announcement, though it were only to give her a moment's pain— a moment's mistrust. You have, of course, written by this last overland-so it cannot do very much harm."

"No, I have not written," said Peregrine.

"Not written!-oh! naughty brother!-I am very angry with you indeed; but there is still one hope, which is that she may have sailed before the arrival of this mail; and thus be spared both the knowledge of your neglect and the pain of hearing this calumny. She is to leave, you know, in the beginning of August."

"In the beginning of August," sighed Peregrine.

"And this is May”—

"Well; she may not get it. I hope and trust. that she will not,”—and he thought to himself how stupid it was that he had not thought of Julia's approaching departure, when Dr. Fitz-simon asked why he had not written by the last overland mail. In his little secret heart of all, there was a wish which he durst not have embodied in words.

Mr. and Mrs. Sweetenham soon joined the party in the drawing-room, and the remainder of the evening was spent as evenings generally are spent, and Peregrine reached Dum-Dum about half an hour after midnight.

CHAPTER XV.

Containing some Accounts of a Day at Dum-Dum, and Peregrine Pultuney's Perplexities.

OUR history is drawing to a close. The cold weather has come round again, and Peregrine Pultuney is in daily expectation of the arrival of the vessel, which is to bring back to him his betrothed bride.

The Poggletons had taken their passage in the Hastings, which was the ship that brought Peregrine to India, and on that account selected at the earnest entreaty of Julia, who, with all the romantic tenderness of true love, thought that this kind of association with her beloved, would do much to alleviate the irksomeness and tedium of the long voyage. It was all hallowed ground to her-the deck, the poop, the cuddy, the steerage, wherever Peregrine had trodden; and besides, she thought that she would often have an opportunity of hearing the praises of her lover from the captain, the officers,