"I was afraid you were still fretting yourself about last night's mistakes; but we must make mistakes sometimes, and it is not well to mourn too long over the irreparable past."

"I was not thinking of last night, dear mamma; I am only-"

"No, dear love, I did not mean to ask your confidence; there are some things one can scarcely tell even a mother, only, dear child, take care of yourself," and Mrs. Wynne turned and left her.

Elizabeth sat down on the first stair of the upper flight, and thought and waited. At last Paul and Hargrave left the dining-room, Harvey's foot turned up stairs and-she fled.

Tea brought her down, and all were there. Her mother, Paul, and Isabella, all feeling a little guilty about last night's occurrence, little thought how their kindness pained her. It was so undeserved, she felt as if the deceit lay with her. Harvey joking with Paul, fetching his mother's shawl, could not be guilty; yet guilt she felt there was somewhere, it might be in her own unjust suspicions, evil imaginations. So passed tea. David came in in a few minutes, Harvey crossed to the schoolroom, Elizabeth sat pale and abstracted; suddenly she rose, followed his steps, knocked and entered.

Harvey was busy reading, and scarcely looked up. It was so difficult not to appear to have come merely to fetch workbox or book, as he seemed to expect, that Elizabeth did take up "In Memoriam ;" but any falsehood even in gesture, was so repugnant to her that the very fact of feeling tempted to use it, decided her to follow her original intention.

Harvey," she began, colouring crimson, and speaking so gently that perhaps he really did not hear her. Harvey," a little louder, but more falteringly. "I? did you speak ?" he asked, looking up.

"If-if I could speak with-if you are not very busy-I-,"

"Well, do you know, Bessie," interrupted Hargrave good-humouredly and with perfect courtesy, he was always courteous to Elizabeth, “I am very busy, I want to finish this ode before nine.”

"Oh, then-" she answered, retreating at once. "Harvey," she entreated, suddenly kneeling down beside him, “please don't be very angry, only do tell me— it was really Massey, not Mason, who was with you?"

One word would have destroyed this sister's suspicion for ever, but Harvey did not speak it. He could not, at first, resolve to abuse the young girl's innocence.

"I must have made you very angry," said Elizabeth, mistaking his silence, "it was so wicked of me ever to think any one could do it."

"You wicked!" repeated Hargrave, with a rather sad yet half playful smile, "no, no, dear Bessie, only rather silly to trouble your little head about such an absurdity as this."

"Oh, but Harvey, if it had been Mason it would not have been absurd, but so very shocking,-you can forgive me ?"

One little word "quite," would have settled all; even have made himself appear magnanimous and forbearing, and his sister guilty; indeed Elizabeth took the careless, "my dear child, there is nothing whatever to forgive," as meaning this, and whispering, blushing and penitent, "Harvey, I am so sorry I could ever think it," she kissed him timidly and rose.

He watched her to the door, relieved, and yet so contrite for her fancied injury. Then suddenly he arose, himself shut to the door, and facing her, said quietly,

but

"Dear Bessie, I cannot bear to enlighten you, I cannot deceive you, even to save you pain. It was Mason. Don't look so scared, dear child; the sin, such as it is, is mine, not yours. Don't trouble your

self about it."

Elizabeth stood looking at him, as if unable to be

lieve her senses, till Harvey again broke silence by saying,

"I am very sorry you have had to hear this, Bessie, because you are quite right in feeling that it is a shame for girls even to hear of what men are obliged to do."

tr

"Oh, Harvey, not obliged, no one is obliged to do wrong," cried Elizabeth earnestly, "you have not generally, it was only once; don't go to him; do tell—” Now, dear Bessie, your share in the matter is over," interrupted Harvey good temperedly but firmly, "and I want terribly to get back to my Greek, so there good-bye, and don't vex yourself about that with which you have happily nothing whatever to do."

But Elizabeth went no more than Barbara had gone. Harvey, do let me speak. You cannot see how wrong it all is; you know papa forbad his coming here I know," she added apologetically, "that if he came you could hardly turn him away, but you will mention it ?"

"To whom? my father?"

"Yes, it is right; it is indeed, Harvey; he will not be angry. You could not help his coming, you know." "You dear little innocent child," said Hargrave, wondering what impelled him to speak at all, still more to say what he was going to say, "this is the first time he has been here, (and a fool I was to bring him) but very far from the twentieth time that I have been to him." He stopped, for Elizabeth instinctively shrank away.

"Then," she said in a clear ringing tone that startled him, "you have been very wicked. Hargrave, remember, Cursed is he that setteth light by his father or his mother.""

"Come, Bessie, don't quote texts at me, it is the last thing a man can stand."

"Oh, Harvey," she implored, suddenly catching his arm, "tell them, you will, you must,-it is so wicked to deceive them. You go away next week;

you cannot go and let them know nothing of all this; let them think you good, and speak kindly to you,

and-"

"I don't like doing it, I own, Bessie," he answered gently.

"You will not do it; you can repent; give him up this last week; it will be no trial to give him up a week later, when you could not have him if you would."

"It is a little hard," said Harvey, quietly, " to give up a friend of ten years' standing at a moment's bidding."

"But if it be right !—he will know how sorry you are; and papa would not require it if he could help it. Oh, Harvey, don't begin a new life leaving this behind you."

Why do you care so much about it? you can't care much for me ?"

"Oh, Harvey, I do."

"You shrank from me just now."

"Not you, only that long deceit. Harvey, you will be honest and tell them, and start quite fair at Merriton."

Her piteous earnestness moved him strangely. He stood in thought a few seconds, then raised his eyes and said, "I can't break to-night's engagement, and won't pretend that I mean to do so, but it shall be the last, Bessie."

"Oh, Harvey, give up this one, it is just the test-"

"I can't," he interrupted, a little roughly even to her, "there I didn't mean to be cross, but indeed I can't be off and on with my word to please any one, but I give you my word that this shall be the last."

"But, Hargrave, you have given your word long ago to obey GOD," she answered, very reverently, but too much in earnest to blush, "and to go now is breaking it to Him."

"Well, I can't help it; I never can be good, dear

Bessie, it isn't in me, and one inay as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, even you must feel."

"I can't say any more; I don't know how to reason. Only, Hargrave, I must say this, you ought not to go to Mason to-night, and you ought to tell papa that you have met him so often already," and she went.

Harvey sat down to his Greek again, but had not nearly finished the task he had set himself when nine struck.

At a quarter to ten he was in the drawing-room quietly reading. After prayers when the others were wishing good-night, he leant over Paul and said rather in an undertone, "I say, will you take your book to the schoolroom for just ten minutes ?"

Paul complied, though Mr. Wynne called after him to know where he was going. Hargrave, his father and mother, were left alone.

"So this time next week you will be at Merriton, Harvey," said Mrs. Wynne, as he stood beside her before the fire, "you must cheer up Frank, and see that he does not overwork himself; you will have a pleasant summer there together."

"Yes-I—if you are disengaged, sir," said Hargrave, turning suddenly to his father, "I have something I wish to say before leaving home."

"Well ?" said Mr. Wynne, laying down his book, rather amused at the wording of his son's sentence. “I—I cannot quite see my conduct in the light in which Elizabeth does, but I see that she is right in saying I ought not to leave home without telling you that-that," his respectful but easy tone suddenly faltering, and his cheek flushing, "that I have been disregarding your wishes all this spring-that I found it impossible to give up all intercourse with Mason."

"Impossible to obey your father!" cried Mrs. Wynne, indignant at the tone of his confession.

"Wait a moment, my love," said her husband