Nay, lad, but you would lead!'

'My love would lead, and I would follow-Birdie !'
'Then love as others love, and marry you like they.'
'I'll not do violence to my soul.'

'Rash youth!'

'I am not rash-I'm past it.'

'So you wild youth all think; and then-'

Then what, old Spectre? I'm ready now to honeymoon away in Spectre-land.'

And marry on the sly! We will not have you. Act openly -ten thousand of us at a time will all unite in One and do her tiniest bidding a million rather! Now fancy, Ralph-a million Spectre-power all blended into One, and millions more all ready to aid the wond'rous charm!'

I fancied by his look I had him now, so left him.

CHAPTER XXVI.

'For I am nothing if not critical.'-SHAKESPEARE.

'I'LL join you all,' cried this gipsy of all the gipsies, 'if you promise to obey me to the letter-fail that, and I leave you this hour!' And the whole gipsy tribe of Bluffshire did promise to obey Harry Somers, the outcast soldier-Hercules, to the letter. They stole no more; they worked like honest men, under an honest, fearless leader, and great were the rest and quietude amongst the farmers after the tribe had adopted him. When they heard his tale they extolled him to the skies. There was little fear of detection now that the scar on his forehead was dyed the same colour as his face, neck, hands, and arms. Under his active leadership and management the men soon found employment on farms, made baskets, or cut peat, and in their humble way became well-to-do thriving people.

Pale indeed was the rose of Trememdon, and downcast, too, the next time I gazed upon her beauteous features. There was no Ralph near, so I thought I would just take a peep at those lips he was for ever raving about! It was rude I know for a gentleman-I mean a Spectral one-to loiter about on purpose to look at a young girl's lips! Well, I did it! As Ralph was not there I thought they might be taking it out' in gentle repose, perhaps. Ah! no such thing!-her lips! Pray, sir, have you ever seen an early rosebud, just tipped with morning

dew, and then have watched it, pouting, bursting into life, with warmth and fragrance all around, and the glorious songsters welcoming each little leaflet, swelling higher than the rest, until it blossomed forth-a full-blown rose? You have, I know; but Birdie's lips were not like that!!

She was writing to Maude Trevosa. Thinking there could be no harm, I shifted my position-for I had seen- -those lips! I now flitted just over her dainty little shoulder, and being all in a tremble at suddenly finding myself so near and yet so far,' I tried to read, but it was so blotted with tears I could only catch a word or two here and there.

'MY DARLING DAISY,

'Here

6

'Grimmouth Castle, Aug. 3.

at last! would you—too ! think Ralph has gone mad! you-heard about poor papa ! -but still our Name remains!-Old Trememdon's Name !-our boasted heritage!-flatly refused-they've ruined him!-by Saints, Maude! SAINTS!!! think of that—couldn't spoil our Name-worth ten million Saints!!! ruined poor papa! horrid Fleasum at Trememdon! Papa refuses - see any one from City! Pills Nostr grave!-Papa kissed me won't see

Ralph!

cold! looked so

you

here! to

- blood swore great big oath! fierce! I did not know papa swore ! — wish kiss me, love! Yes, darling-he cursed!-mad, I know-mad!you know II - feel it coming too!! Ah, if Ralph were only poor! or, came! Papa showed Ralph's letter cheque he said, "Here's money - city! take! do what-like with it." I saw Ralph's name Ralph is not a Vortex broker !"

and

-

--

so kind

I said, "Papa!

silent! Oceans - kisses 'Your loving

' BIRDIE.

Fleasum had not been established at Trememdon Castle an hour before he made the strictest search for Somers. Owing to the regard in which the Soldier-gipsy was held by all the people, however, he made no progress. The 8th of August came, and Lady Beatrice again sat down to write to Maude; I was able to decipher nearly all of it. It ran thus

"Another letter from dear Ralph; oh, Daisy, if I only had your cleverness! My head aches with thinking. What if you come to find your little Birdie--mad! The cheque is for one hundred thousand pounds! "only a loan," said Ralph,-how

rich he must be getting! He complains bitterly of papa's great unkindness. When we are married he will turn that horrid Fleasum out of the Castle. He wants me to-oh, yes, I must tell you! Papa is so kind-and Geraldine is too.

She sleeps

where you would if you came.

Pray for and write to
'Your fond

'BIRDIE.'

I

man.

On the 13th she again was writing to Maude, thus—

Say, are you ill, my pet, that you do not write? I can scarce hold my pen, I am so wretched! I have given up thinking altogether, and have, instead, a dull, heavy aching, which pray God may never be yours. I know what I am going to do is wrong. And Geraldine, who is so kind, sometimes says it is, but then she says, what else can I do? and I'm sure I don't know, and I've given up thinking-oh, dear! And now papa will not hear dear Ralph's name mentioned, or any one's from the city. Isn't it all horrid ? When I come to think of it all I don't wonder at poor dear papa swearing-I should, were I a How I hate this place!-because it's not Trememdon, I suppose. How I can write I don't know-to no one but you. Write directly you get this. I enclose the cheque for you to see. Only think, papa has just forbidden any person from the city to enter the grounds !—I fear his mind is going! I overheard him muttering, "Beware the fury of a patient man. Oh, Daisy, it made my blood run cold!--I hung about his neck and kissed him so, he pressed me to his bosom-I couldn't speak—and said, smoothing away my long thick hair from off my forehead-he crying all the while, something like this, for indeed I can't quite recollect, "My love for my dear children is all that's left to me, my own fond baby-my best-loved child!" Ah! then I could have worshipped dear papa. I felt so guilty, oh, so wicked! but, Daisy darling, it's soon to be all right. Ralph says we shall soon be back again, and then-" out upon them!" he says. What could papa have meant? I do hope he won't injure anybody. Oh, dearest, come! he has not soiled our Name yet. These Saints were very rash to court his vengeance. What might it not lead to! Ah, I would stay it, Maude-but what can little I do! It makes me shudder.'

"

Part the Fourth.

CHAPTER I.

'You say to me-wards your affection's strong;

Pray love me little, so you love me long.'-HERRICK.

ALTHOUGH Harry Somers was a man whose equanimity, until he met Lady Beatrice Violet Playfair, not the flutter of the most soul-stirring petticoat had ever yet disturbed, and was, when unexcited by stimulants, as slow as his proverbially slow fellowcountreemen; yet, when once he had loved with all the madness, fervour, and devotion of a virgin passion, and had awoke to the consciousness that he loved hopelessly, his mind endeavoured to assimilate to that bright vision which encircled him as with a moral halo so pure that it took possession of his whole being even more entirely, and in a more sacred manner, than if his passion had been returned. His thoughts soared as they had never yet done, and his inner life was changed. Hence the firmness, the uniformity, and the perseverance in design which marked the course he had laid out for himself, viz. that of guarding her.

I had well-nigh forgot your little world, its businesses,' its cares, and its people; I've had so much to do in distant Spheres. All? not Birdie, nor Ralph, nor others.

I well recall one morning. Reginald was at his club. A telegram, Haste, haste! The Rose with Ralph is flown!'

6

He stands like one transfixed. My God! My life!' he gasps, My soul!' and falls back in his chair.

He passes his hand across his brow, stands up, and cries out in tones of anguish, 'Where is Ralph Osborne?' He turns, he gazes around; he hastens to another street, in cold trepidation, and stops before a door.

'Is Captain Slasher in ?'

I saw the two conferring.

'Hush, hush!' said Reginald; nor tell to living soul.'

'I don't believe one word,' the young dragoon replied. Let us see Ralph.'

'Nor I-so come,' said Playfair.

They quickly drive a hansom down to Ralph's, but Ralph

was not at home.

Both stare aghast.

'Since when?'

For

days,' the servant man replies. In horror Slasher cries, 'We must see Maxwell.'

'What! let him know our foul disgrace-our stain !'
'Playfair, you're rash. I know Ralph Osborne.'

'And so thought all, brave Oswald. I loved the man.'

I love Ralph Osborne still,' replied the yonng dragoon.
'And fain would I love Ralph; but see-he says "for days."
'For days, or years--I love Ralph Osborne.'

'And I love Beatrice-my father-all!' the guardsman hotly cried.

'And I love Beatrice-your father--and you all!'

I saw the two embrace, and then the Viscount wildly sobbed, Oh, Ralph! why, why thus rob us of our all, at such a timeand my poor father!—now!'

'Let's hasten to your club; there may be news.'

I saw them hurry up the steps.

Another telegram, my lord.' He reads.

'Oh, take it, Oswald-see-my father!'

I saw the young dragoon lean gently over him, while neither spoke a word. I mused,

‘Ah, better leave strong hearts alone in griefs like these!—— his father!'

CHAPTER II.

'I could not love thee, dear, so much,

Loved I not honour more.'-RICHARD LOVELACE,

I FLITTED down upon the Bluffshire coast, and saw a tall figure stooping on the sand inside a cave which lay beneath the Castle of Grimmouth. How carefully the man treads; and now he stoops and kisses the cold, wet sand.

'Tis hers-'tis hers!' cries brave Hugh Nairn, and flinging himself amongst the swarthy seaweed, he kisses again the seamoist sand. Throwing his brawny arms around those tiny footprints he lies quite motionless upon the ground, like one bereft.

I heard a loud' Halloo,' and looked. High on the cliff, first ranging, then beck'ning back his followers, stood Harry Somers. With terribly eager haste he gained the cave, then stooping low wildly embraced the sand. The guardsman turns and weeps. The soldier-Hercules, with fiery passion traced upon each lineament, in agony and hate, breathless, exclaims, 'Tis hers-Trememdon's rose ! His face-though stained-now blanched, the