hills that stand like phantoms rising out of another world.

Bell comes into the phaeton. We set out again along the hilly road, getting comforted by and by by the landlord of a wayside inn, who says, " Ay, the road goes pretty mooch doon bank a' t' waay to Penrith, after ye get a mile forrit." Bell cannot tell us whether this is pure Cumbrian, or Cumbrian mixed with Scotch, but the Lieutenant insists that it does not much matter, for "forrit" is very good Frisian. The chances are that we should have suffered another sermon on the German origin of our language, but that signs of a town became visible. We drove in from the country highways in the gathering twilight. There were lights in the streets of Penrith, but the place itself seemed to have shut up and gone to bed. It was but half-past eight; yet nearly every shop was shut, and the inn into which we drove had clearly got over its day's labor. If we had asked for dinner this hour, the simple folks would probably have laughed at us; so we called it per, and a very excellent supper it was.

sup

"I AM SO Sorry you can't come further with us than Carlisle," says Queen Titania to Arthur, with a great kindliness for the lad shining in her brown eyes.

"Duty calls me back-and pleasure, too," he says, with rather a melancholy smile. "You will receive a message from me, I expect, shortly after I return. Where will letters find you in Scotland ?”

This was rather a difficult question to answer; but it took us away from the dangerous subject of Arthur's intentions, about which the less said at that moment the better. The Lieutenant professed a great desire to spend two or three weeks in Scotland; and Bell began to sketch out phantom tours, whisking about from Loch Lubraig to Loch Long, cutting round the Mull of Cantire, and coming back from Oban to the Crinan in a surprising

manner.

"And, Mademoiselle," says he, “perhaps to-morrow, when you get into Scotland, you will begin to tell me something of the Scotch songs, if it does not trouble you. I have read some-yes-of Burns's songs, mostly through Freiligrath's translations, but I have not heard any sung, and I know that you know them all. Oh yes, I liked them very much—they are good, hearty songs, not at all melancholy; and an excellent fellow of that country I met in the war-he was a correspondent for some newspaper and he was at Metz, but he was as much of a soldier as any man of us-he told me there is not any such music as the music of the Scotch songs. That is a very bold thing to say, you know, Mademoiselle; but if you will sing some of them, I will give you my frank opinion."

"Very well," says Mademoiselle, with a gracious smile, "but I think I ought to begin to-day, for there is a great deal of ground to get over." he.

"So much the better," says "But if you young people," says Queen Tita, "who are all bent on your own pleasure, would let me make a suggestion, I think I can put your musical abilities to a better use. I am going to give a concert as soon as I get home, for the benefit of our Clothing Club; and I want you to undertake, Count von Rosen, to sing for us two or three German songs-Körner's war songs, for example."

"Oh, with great pleasure, Madame, if you will not all laugh at my singing."

Unhappy wretch-another victim! But it was a mercy she asked him only for a few songs, instead of hinting something about a contribution. That was probably to

come.

"Bell," says my Lady, "do you think we ought to charge twopence this time ?"

On this tremendous financial question Bell declined to express an opinion, beyond suggesting that the people, if they could only be induced to come, would value the concert all the more. A much more practical proposal, however, is placed before this committee, now assembled in Penrith. At each of these charity-concerts in our schoolroom, a chamber is set apart for the display of various viands and an uncommon quantity of champagne, devoted to the use of the performers, their friends, and a few special guests. It is suggested that the expense of this enter

"merry Carlisle," the lamps were lit in the twilight, and numbers of people in the streets. For the convenience of Arthur, we put up at an hotel abutting on the railway station, and then went off to stable the horses elsewhere.

It was rather a melancholy dinner we had in a corner of the great room. The gloom that overspread Arthur's face was too obvious. In vain the Lieutenant talked profoundly to us of the apple-legend of Tell in its various appearances (he had just been cribbing his knowledge from Professor Buchheim's excellent essay), and said he would go with my Lady next morning to see the famous market-place where William of Cloudeslee, who afterwards shot the apple from off his son's head, was rescued from justice by two of his fellow-outlaws. Tita was far more concerned to see Arthur of somewhat better spirits on this the last night of his being with us. On our sitting down to dinner, she had said to him, with a pretty smile

“King Arthur lives in merry Carlisle,
And seemly is to see;

And there with him Queen Guenever,
That bride so bright of blee."

But was it not an unfortunate quotation, however kindly meant? Queen Guenever sat there—as frank, and gracious, and beautiful as a queen or a bride might be-but not with him. That affair of the little blue flower on the banks of the Greta was still rankling in his mind.

He bore himself bravely, however. He would not have the women remain up to see him away by the 12.45 train. He bade good-bye to both of them without wincing, and looked after Bell for a moment as she left; and then he went away into a large and gloomy smoking-room, and sat down there in silence. The Lieutenant and I went with him. He was not inclined to speak; and at length Von Rosen, apparently to break the horrible spell of the place, said

"Will they give the horse any corn or water on the journey ?"

“I don't think so," said the lad, absently, "but I have telegraphed for a man to be at the station and take the cob into the nearest stables."

And with that he forced himself to talk of some of his adventures by the way, while as yet he was driving by himself; though we could see he was thinking of something

very different. At last the train from the north came in. He shook hands with us with a fine indifference; and we saw him bundle himself up in a corner of the carriage, with a cigar in his mouth. There was nothing tragic in his going away; and yet there was not in all England a more wretched creature than the young man who thus started on his lonely night-journey: and I afterwards heard that, up in the railway-hotel at this moment, one tender heart was still beating a little more quickly at the thought of his going, and two wakeful eyes were full of unconscious tears.

CHAPTER XXIX.

OVER THE BORDER.

"And here awhile the Muse, High hovering o'er the broad cerulean scene, Her airy mountains, from the waving main, Invested with a keen, diffusive sky, Breathing the soul acute; her forests huge Incult, robust, and tall, by Nature's hand Planted of old; her azure lakes between Poured out expensive, and of watery wealth Full; winding, deep, and green, her fertile vales; With many a cool translucent brimming flood Washed lovely from the Tweed (pure parent stream Whose pastoral banks first heard my Doric reed, With sylvan Gled, thy tributary brook.)"

Sees Caledonia in romantic view:

THAT next morning in Carlisle—as we walked about the red old city that is set amid beautiful green meadows interlaced with streams-there was something about Queen Titania's manner that I could not understand. She arrogated to herself a certain importance. She treated ordinary topics of talk with disdain. She had evidently become possessed of a great secret. Now everyone knows that the best way to discover a secret is to let the owner of it alone; if it is of great importance, she is sure to tell it to you, and if it is of no importance, your ignorance of it won't hurt you.

We were up in that fine old castle, leaning on the parapets of red sandstone and gazing away up to the north, where a line of Scotch hills lay on the horizon. That is a pretty landscape that lies around Carlisle Castle-the bright and grassy meadows through which the Eden winds, the woods and heights of the country beyond, the far stretches of sand at the mouth of the Solway, and the blue line of hills telling of the wilder regions of Scotland.

In the courtyard below us we can see the Lieutenant instructing Bell in the art of

fortification. My Lady looks at them for a moment, and says—

"Bell is near her North country at last." There is at all events nothing very startling in that disclosure. She pauses for a moment or two, and is apparently regarding with wistful eyes the brilliant landscape around, across which dashes of shadow are slowly moving from the west. Then she adds

"I suppose you are rather puzzled to account for Arthur's coming up to see us this last time."

"I never try to account for the insane actions of young people in love."

That is your own experience, I suppose?" she says, daintily.

"Precisely so-of you. But what is this about Arthur ?"

"Don't you really think it looks absurd -his having come to join us a second time for no apparent purpose whatever ?" "Proceed."

"Oh," she says, with some little hauteur, "I am not anxious to tell you anything." "But I am dying to hear. Have you not marked my impatience ever since we set out this morning?"

66 "No, I haven't. But I will tell you all the same, if you promise to say not a word of it to Count von Rosen."

"I? Say anything to the Lieutenant ? The man who would betray the confidences of his wife-except when it suited his own purpose- But what have you got to say about Arthur ?"

Only this-that his coming to see us was not so aimless as it might appear. Yesterday he asked Bell definitely if she would marry him."

She smiles-with an air of pride. knows she has produced a sensation.

She

"Would you like to know where? In that old inn at High Hesket-where they seem to have been left alone for a minute or two. And Bell told him frankly that she could not marry him."

struck an attitude, nor uttered an exclamation; for, now that one had time to remember, on our entering into the parlor where Bell and Arthur had been left, she was quietly looking out of the window, and he came forward to ask how many miles it was to Carlisle. They got into the vehicles outside as if nothing had happened. They chatted as usual on the road to Carlisle. Nay, at dinner, how did those young hypocrites manage to make believe that they were on their old footing, so as to deceive us all ?

My dear," I say to her, we have been robbed of a scene."

"I am glad there was no scene. There is more likely to be a scene when Arthur goes back and tells Dr. Ashburton that he means to marry Katty Tatham. He is sure to do that; and you know the Doctor was very much in favor of Arthur's marrying Bell."

Well, now, I suppose, all that is wanted for the completion of your diabolical project is that Bell should marry that young Prussian down there—who will be arrested in a minute or two if he does not drop his inquiries.”

Tita looks up with a stare of well-affected surprise.

"That is quite another matter, I assure you. You may be quite certain that Bell did not refuse Count von Rosen before without some very good reason; and the mere fact of Arthur's going away does not pledge her a bit. No-quite the contrary. He would be very foolish if he asked her at this moment to become his wife. She is very sorry about Arthur, and so am I; but I confess that when I learned his case was hopeless, and that I could do nothing to help him, I was greatly relieved. But don't breathe a word of what I have told you to Count von Rosen-Bell would never forgive me if it were to reach his

ears.

Think of it! In that deserted old inn, with its forsaken chambers and empty stalls, and occasional visits from a wandering butcher, a tragedy had been enacted so quietly that none of us had known. folks were always to transact the most important business of their lives in this quiet, undramatic, unobserved way, whence would come all the material for our pictures, and plays, and books? These young people, so far as we knew, had never

But they had disappeared from the courtyard below. Almost at the same moment that she uttered these words, she instinctively turned, and lo! there were Bell and her companion advancing to join us. The poor little woman blushed dreadfully

in spite of all her assumption of gracious self-possession; but it was apparent that the young folks had not overheard, and no harm was done.

At length we started for Gretna. There might have been some obvious jokes going upon this subject, had not some recollection of Arthur interfered. Was it because of his departure, also, that the Lieutenant forbore to press Bell for the Scotch songs that she had promised him? Or was it not rather that the brightness and freshness of this rare forenoon were in themselves sufficient exhilaration? We drove down by the green meadows, and over the Eden bridge. We clambered up the hill opposite, and drove past the suburban villas there. We had got so much accustomed to sweet perfumes floating to us from the hedgerows and the fields, that we at first did not perceive that certain specially pleasant odors were the product of some large nurseries close by. Then we got out to that "shedding" of the roads, which marks the junction of the highways coming down from Glasgow and Edinburgh; and here we chose the former, which would take us through Gretna and Moffat, leaving us to strike eastward towards Edinburgh afterwards.

The old mail-coach road to the north is quite deserted now, but it is a pleasant road for all that, well-made and smooth, with tracts of grass along each side, and tall and profuse hedges that only partially hide from view the dusky northern landscape with its blue line of hills beyond. Mile after mile, however, we did not meet a single creature on this deserted highway; and when at length we reached a solitary turnpike, the woman in charge thereof regarded us with a look of surprise, as if we were a party of runaways who had blundered into the notion that Gretna-green marriages were still possible.

The Lieutenant, who was driving, got talking with the woman about these marriages, and the incidents that must have occurred at this very turnpike, and of the stories in the neighborhood about that picturesque and gay old time. She-with her eyes still looking towards our Bell, as if she suspected that the young man had quite an exceptional interest in talking of marriages-told us some of her own reminiscences with a great deal of good humor; but it is sad to think that these anecdotes were chiefly of quarrels and sep

arations-some of them occurring before the happy pair had crossed the first bridge on their homeward route. Whether these stories were not edifying, or whether a great bank of clouds, coming up from the north against the wind, looked very ominous, Bell besought her companion to drive on; and so on we went.

It was a lonely place in which to be caught by a thunderstorm. We came to the river Esk, and found its shallow waters flowing down a broad and shingly channel, leaving long islands of sand between. There was not a house in sightonly the marshy meadows, the river-beds, and the low flats of sand stretching out to the Solway Frith. Scotland was evidently bent on giving us a wet welcome. From the hills in the north those black masses of vapor came crowding up, and a strange silence fell over the land. Then a faint glimmer of red appeared somewhere; and a low noise was heard. Presently, a long narrow streak of forked lightning went darting across the black background, there was a smart roll of thunder, and then all around us the first clustering of heavy rain was heard among the leaves. We had the hood put up hastily. Bell and Tita were speedily swathed in shawls and waterproofs; and the Lieutenant sent the horses on at a good pace, hoping to reach Gretna Green before we should be washed into the Solway. Then began the wild play of the elements. On all sides of us the bewildering glare of steel-ble seemed to flash about, and the horses, terrified by the terrific peals of thunder, went plunging on through the torrents of rain.

"Mademoiselle," cried the Lieutenant, with the water streaming over his face, and down his great beard, "your Westmoreland rain,-it was nothing to this."

Bell sat mute and patient, with her face down to escape the blinding torrents. Perhaps, had we crossed the Border in beautiful weather, she would have got down from the phaeton, and pulled some pretty flower to take away with her as a memento; but now we could see nothing, hear nothing, think of nothing, but the crashes of the thunder, the persistent waterfall, and those sudden glares that from time to time robbed us of our eyesight for several seconds. Some little time before reaching the river Sark, which is here the boundary line between the two countries, we passed a

small wayside inn; but we did not think of stopping there, when Gretna promised to afford us more certain shelter. We drove on and over the Sark. We pulled up for a moment at the famous toll-house.

"We are over the Border!" cried Bell as we drove on again; but what of Scotland could she see in this wild storm of rain ?

Surely no runaway lover was ever more glad to see that small church perched up on a hillock among trees than we were when we came in sight of Gretna. But where was the inn? There were a few cottages by the wayside, and there was one woman who kindly came out to look at us. No sooner had the Lieutenant heard that there was no inn in the place, than, without a word-but with an awful look of determination on his face-he turned the horses clean round and set them off at a gallop down the road to the Sark.

66

They must take us in," said he, between his teeth; and with that we found ourselves in England again.

He drove us up to the front of the square building. With his whip-hand he dashed away the rain from his eyes and moustache, and called aloud. Lo! what a strange vision was that which appeared to us, in this lonely place, in the middle of a storm? Through the mist of the rain we beheld the doorway of the inn suddenly becoming the frame of a beautiful picture; and the picture was that of a fair-haired and graceful young creature of eighteen, in a costume of pearly grey touched here and there with lines of blue, who regarded us with a winning expression of wonder and pity in her large and innocent eyes. Her appearance there seemed like a glimmer of sunlight shining through the rain; and a second or two elapsed before the Lieutenant could collect himself so far as to ask whether this angel of deliverance could not shelter us from the rude violence of the storm.

"We have no ostler," says the young lady, in a timid way.

"Have you any stables.?" says the young man.

"Yes, we have stables-shall I show them to you?"

"No-no!" he cries, quite vehemently. "Don't you come out into the rain-not at all!

I will find them out very well my

only an old nickname that Mademoiselle used to have in Bonn, as you know. You tell me I cannot address a young lady as 'Miss,' without mentioning her other name, and I do not know it. Yet I cannot address her with nothing, as if she were a servant. Tell me now-what does an English gentleman say to a young lady whom he may assist at a railway station abroad, and does not know her name? And what, if he does not catch her name, when he is introduced in a house? He cannot say Mademoiselle. He cannot say Fräulein. He cannot say Miss."

"He says nothing at all." "But that is rudeness-it is awkward to you not to be able to address her."

66

'Why are you so anxious to know how to talk to this young lady?"

"Because I mean to ask her if it is impossible that she can get a little corn for the horses."

It was tiresome work-that getting the horses out of the wet harness, and grooming them without the implements of grooming. Moreover, we could find nothing but a handful of hay; and it was fortunate that the nose-bags we had with us still contained a small allowance of oats and beans..

What a comfortable little family-party, however, we made up in the large, warm kitchen! Tita had struck up a great friendship with the gentle and pretty daughter of the house; the old lady, her