which he now possesses undiminished and unimpaired.'

'Poor child cried the widow, thinking of the guileless daughter of the stricken man.

'And,' continued Dr. Hardy, with the same resolute emphasis on the conjunction, we consider that he should be at once induced to make his will, and we have resolved to request that you will use your influence with him. We have tried, and failed. May we count on you?'

Mrs. Grant looked up with a half-amused half astonished air. As soon as she had somewhat recovered from her surprise, she said very earnestly,

There is nothing in this world I would not try to do for Miss Midharst; but there is no more Chance of Sir Alexander listening to me on any business matter than of his asking advice of the wind. He believes women can and ought to know nothing about business. It would only vex him if I spoke of anything of the kind to him.'

The poor little woman looked quite distressed and helpless.

The three men glanced from one to the other in despair. In a few seconds Dr. Hardy spoke again to the little widow.

'Is there no friend of the patient's whom you could suggest as likely to have influence on him? Do you think his lawyer would have weight? We know how he has secluded himself from the world and his own class, and that we are not to look among those who would naturally be his friends for the assistance we now want. Do you think his lawyer would be likely to succeed with him in this?'

'I am greatly afraid not. I have heard that although he has a high opinion of Mr. Shaw, his lawyer-he would never in any way accept advice in his affairs beyond legal matters. I understand Sir

Alexander has no personal liking for Mr. Shaw. And he won't speak to any clergyman.'

Again the three men looked at one another in doubt and difficulty. Again Dr. Hardy spoke,

This is a matter of the utmost importance to those who come after Sir Alexander, and we are most anxious it should be settled, and at once. If we thought it was a disinclination to make a will, or a determination not to make one, that kept him back, we should feel no responsibility in the matter. But he refuses to settle his worldly affairs solely upon the ground that we are deceived as to his condition of health. Now we are confident we are right. He will never rise from his bed again. Already dropsy has made its appearance; at any moment that may, directly or indirectly, affect the head; in his case it is almost sure to do so at some time.'

Dr. Hardy paused a moment. Then proceeded with more decision than heretofore,

Perhaps you, Mrs. Grant, would be kind enough to ask Miss Midharst if she could give you the name of any one on whose advice Sir Alexander would be likely to rely in an important business affair? You need not distress Miss Midharst with anything more explicit.'

Mrs. Grant rose with prompt willingness, and hurried away with the sustaining hope that Maud might be able to solve the difficulty.

When Mrs. Grant had gone, the three men drew near one of the tall narrow windows that looked west along the Island and commanded the beautiful valley of the broad river, and the broad, blue, bright Weeslade itself.

An everlasting Sabbath filled. that luxuriant valley with a peace which seemed too fine for earth. Because of the height on which the Castle stood, and its distance

from the nearest shore beyond the western end of the Island, all detail was subdued and lost; nothing was left to trouble the eye or excite inquiry. The eye could see nothing but broad green pasturages and vast expanses of emerald grainshoots reaching down to the river's brink, and sloping softly inward towards the quiet hills that stood up apart, clad in purple and blue wood, and crowned with violet uplands lying secure against the azure sky.

The tide was full; the winds were still; from the trees around through the open window came the fragrant spices of the may. Above, the lark took up where all human voices end the praises of the spring. The glory of inextinguishable youth was in his song, the wild rapture of a regenerated soul. Below, the sad-throated thrush piped of the mellow melancholy of a ripe old world that had borne a thousand generations of men, who had moved all their days through the same narrow and unsatisfying avenues of desire and passion and final failure to the richly padded grave. The thrush sang to the earth of those who had died; the lark sang to the skies of those who shall live for

ever.

Around the three men as they stood by the open window was the mouldering chamber of an ancient house. On one side lay the decayed old man of a noble race. On the other side the maiden daughter of that man, who had smothered up his affectionate visitings under piles of gold, scraped together for her, for the pride of his lineage.

Beyond there in the city was ruin. A great bank which had a branch in Daneford had stopped payment to day. The three men by the window were talking of that while they awaited the return of the woman.

'Dreadful! I am told that the poor Mainwarings are completely ruined by it.'

'Completely. Fancy, old John Musgrave put four thousand pounds into it on deposit this day week. It will kill him. He had sold out Turks, and was going to buy United States.'

'Poor old fellow! I do pity him.'

'There was a rumour of one of the local banks being in a bad way. Did either of you hear of it?'

'Not the Daneford !' 'No; Grey is safe. Bless me, his father left him a couple of hundred thousand clear of the business, and he's been making money ever since.'

Is it the Weeslade Valley?' 'I don't like to say. It is so dangerous to speak. dangerous to speak. But there is a rumour of a local bank, and it's not Grey's!

'No. I should think Grey could stand anything. They say it was always Grey's system to keep the money near home. It's a commercial and customers' bank, and not a gad-about among foreign speculations and bubble manufacturers.'

At that moment Mrs. Grant reentered the room.

The three men turned round and went to her.

'I have seen Miss Midharst, and she says she thinks the person most likely to have influence with Sir Alexander is Mr. Grey the banker.'

'A most excellent man,' said Dr. Hardy, turning to the other two. 'What do you think?' 'Capital

'No one could be better.'

Dr. Hardy spoke to Mrs. Grant for the last time on that occasion. 'Send a note by express to Mr. Grey, asking him to come at once. Explain to him what our views are,

Winter's Tale.

CHAPTER VI.

'A bite at an apple, a seat on the grass, And the best of old-water-at nothing a glass.-O. W. HOLMES.

'You know, baby, you don't understand housekeeping, and I don't want you to be bothered with it. Millicent will be really useful to you, and she won't be in your way. She is an uncommonly good little girl.'

Did not a lawyer, to whom Shelley confided his desire that Harriet Shelley and Mary Woolstonecraft should both live under his roof, speak of the impossibility of conveying to the poet's 'primæval intellect' the probable difficulties of such a situation? The careless artist knew almost as little of the characteristics of women as did the great poet. It had never occurred to him that he was attempting to do a rather difficult thing in bringing together two women so entirely unlike as Millicent Wastrell and his wife.

At a small wayside station he and Charlie left the train, and got into one of the two or three vehicles which stood outside the station. The drivers and the lazy-looking porters touched their hats profusely to Hugh; he was evidently well known to them, and popular too.

Charlie rather wondered at their prompt servility, for she had been accustomed to think that only the rich could obtain that kind of attention. Before long she had made

HENRI MURger.

a discovery which explained this. Hugh was one of those impulsive beings who will always give away a guinea on the smallest provocation, however deeply they may be in debt. Taking care of the pence was a proceeding which Hugh was quite unable to understand.

They drove leisurely onwards, sitting side by side in the jolting carriage, with Charlie's trunk perched precariously on the driver's seat, and various other belongings of hers filling the nooks and corners.

They were very silent, for Hugh was not in a talkative mood; and as to Charlie, she was too absorbed in speculation upon her immediate future to indulge in any irrelevant conversation. And she had got all she could out of Hugh already with regard to his sister, her position in his house, and so on.

The road was a very lovely one, broad and level, with great trees overshadowing it on each side, and between them were visible stretches of rich meadow-land, which give the feeling that mother earth is the softest and sweetest bed imaginable. The merry young leaves, which had so recently come to cover the grave trees with glory, gave out all their gladness of colour in the spring sunshine. Streaks of golden cowslips made the fields look as if they had put on their smiles to induce children to play with them. Every atom of Nature

around glowed with life and delight. This road, as beautiful perhaps as any in this green and lovely England, was familiar to Hugh; a thousand times had he walked over every inch of it, slowly drinking in its beauty. To-day he looked again at every landmark on the way with that keen enjoyment which becomes a second nature to an artist.

But Charlie's eyes wandered absently over the passing hedgerows; all she looked for was some sign of the chimney-pots of her future home. Never had a drive seemed so interminable to her. They passed two or three fine houses standing amid park-land; they passed just one or two less pretentious houses. But there were no 'villas' here; the speculative builder had not yet brought his imitations of luxury into this place. Consequently, Charlie's imagination was much beset by the involuntary attempt to picture to herself what manner of house she was going to.

At last the cab stopped suddenly, and to Charlie's surprise, for she had not noticed any signs of a house. But, turning quickly to look, she saw a number of things, all at one glance. First she saw a little gate set in a hedge of luxuriant growth; beyond that she could see some flowers; the windows of a cottage; and, in front of the cottage, stood a little black figure, which almost instantaneously disappeared.

Isn't this delightful ?' exclaimed Hugh, getting out of the carriage. 'How glorious is this air after living in that detestable London !'

And is this it?' said Charlie. 'Is this what?' asked Hugh, rather bewildered by her irrelevant reply.

Your house?' said Charlie. 'O, yes,' answered Hugh, turning to look behind him. This is the

'I think I will,' said Charlie, with an absent sort of smile. She stepped out of the carriage, and followed him through the gate, while the cabman shouldered her trunk. They passed into the garden, coming at once on to a lawn, much larger in proportion to the cottage then lawns generally are in relation to cottages. Some great trees which stood at one side stretched their arms shelteringly over this green space, which Charlie noticed, as she walked over it, was not very well kept; it was full of daisy-roots, which just now covered it with their pretty wreathing flowers, so offensive to the proper gardener's eye. Just then the black figure, which Charlie had before caught sight of, appeared in the doorway, and stood there waiting to receive them. 'There is Millicent,' said Hugh, and went on a step in advance to greet her. Millicent stood quietly in the little shabby doorway, just out of the sunshine. The single step was white as snow, but the scraper beside it was broken, and the doormat exhibited a great hole in the very centre of its being. The paint on the door was ancient, and showed signs of coming off altogether; and the outside of the little porch was plainly in the last state of dilapidation, though this was concealed as far as might be by clustering creepers, which had not yetattained sufficient fulness to hide the shabbiness altogether. In this framework appeared Millicent's small figure, clothed in an unfashionable, and certainly not new, black frock. Charlie took it all in at one comprehensive glance; and it all seemed to her, in spite of the spring sunshine, which did its best to transfigure the picture

it all seemed so horribly small, so uncomfortably poverty-stricken