son. How pleased your wife would have been !'

This was more than the Rev. James could bear; so, finding it useless to remain, he prepared to go; but, as he was at the door, his uncle, with an ugly leer, fired a parting shot.

Don't be so down about me, Jim. You'll find, when my will is read, that I've not been so bad as you think.'

As the old gentleman was chuckling over the discomfiture of his nephew, Cluny, who had been constantly with him since his illness, came in. The father, after telling his favourite son of the Vicar's visit, said,

'Cluny, boy, bring me the tin case out of the safe; I'm going to tell you something that'll surprise you.'

'No need to bring it, dad,' said Cluny. 'I knew it these four years. I opened the case myself.'

'Well, Cluny, you're my own son,' said the father, with a look of mingled admiration and affection at his hopeful offspring.

The two looked at each other for a minute with a funny expression, as the same idea passed through their minds.

·

'Cluny,' said Old Nickson, as he turned round in bed, I'd give a thousand pounds to see Mrs. Jim's face when the will is read.'

This pious wish was the last that the worthy old gentleman expressed; for about an hour later, when the nurse came to give him some medicine, she found him. dead.

And now many people, who had never before shown much attention to the Nicksons at the vicarage, happened to drop in; and the consumption of wine and cake, during the week that elapsed before the day of the funeral, so far exceeded the weekly estimates

that the housewifely Mrs. Nickson would have felt alarmed had she not reflected that it was merely a draft in advance on the Fort Nickson rents. The family spared no expense in mourning; and, altogether, people who before had not spoken very kindly of the Vicar's wife were disposed to admit that she bore prosperity very becomingly, and looked forward with pleasure to the reopening of Fort Nickson under her auspices.

But at length the great day arrives, and all the parties interested are assembled in the long diningroom at Fort Nickson, to hear the will read. The Rev. James is not much concerned, being pretty sure that none of the personalty is left to him, and, indeed, being quite content with the land, which he considers his already. Bligh Nickson has been deputed by his mother to take stock of the condition of the furniture, and is doing so to the best of his power. Many acquaintances have come in after the funeral, and most of them find an opportunity of congratulating the Vicar or his son. There, too, standing in a group apart in moody silence or talking among themselves in whispers, are the five tall handsome men, the living monuments of the crime and baseness of the dead. No one speaks to them, and they speak to no one, but stare defiantly at each new

comer.

But there is Cluny too, with a curious mixture of deference and a sense of his own importance; for he is indispensable-he alone knows all the affairs of the deceased; and, after seeing every one seated, he is observed, for a few minutes, to converse earnestly with Mr. Barton, the lawyer, into whose hands he has just put the will; and as that gentleman slowly unfolds the parchment, the lookers-on see that whatever Cluny has told him

has strangely affected the lawyer. Cluny then takes his seat, with just a faint look of gratified malice on his face. After conferring for a few minutes with his clerk, Mr. Barton rises. 'Gentlemen,' said the lawyer, 'I have just been more surprised than I have ever before been in my professional career. The will I hold is one drawn up by myself; and by it all the personal property of the deceased is to be divided equally among six persons, to wit, John, Henry, Arthur, William, Thomas, and Clones Nickson, sons of the testator, as he himself says. But, gentlemen, pinned to this will are two documents, of the existence of which I never knew until this moment. They are a certificate of the marriage of John Nickson, Esq., with Mary O'Cal laghan, dated August 4th, 1842; and the certificate of birth of their son, Clones Nickson, dated September 12th of the same year. The Fort Nickson estate, as many of us are aware, was settled for life on the late John Nickson, with remainder entail to his eldest son, and, failing such male issue, to his nephew, the Rev. James Nickson. As these documents, if genuine -and I see no reason to doubt it-attest the legitimacy of Mr.

Clones Nickson, he is now, under the settlement executed by his grandfather, owner of all the real estate comprised in that settlement.'

Had a thunderbolt fallen into the dining-room, the company could hardly have been more astonished. The first to recover his self-possession was the lawyer, who, scenting a new client, congratulated Clones. The rest of the company retired more or less awkwardly.

On investigation the documents were found to be perfectly correct; and, from the date of the marriage, it was generally supposed that old Nickson had been induced to take this step by an imprudent speech made in his hearing by a friend of the Vicar.

He had taken his housekeeper up to London, and married her there by special licence; and such was his influence over her, that she had never divulged the secret.

Clones Nickson broke the entail, sold the property, and left England. Even the name of the house was changed; and poor Mrs. Nickson's sole connection with the landed interest of the county now is her copyright in the doleful tale— which she not unfrequently tellsof Old Nickson's Will.'

CHAPTER XV.

THE SHADOW OF PARTING.

'I will feed upon the poison of my deadly lost delight.'

WITH the astuteness of a social Talleyrand, Lady Hester very closely united the suaviter in modo with the fortiter in re. It was her business to arrange and soften matters, to play a part to each, to shape projects for the future, and, while not appearing to restrain her younger daughter, to effectually prevent any chance meetings with the dangerously fascinating man whom she loved with that moral perversity Lady Hester so deeply deplored.

A few days passed away without any signs of his reappearance; the guests had left, with the exception of Mr. Carrington and his sister, and Lady Hester and Dolly were arranging a quiet drive into Escombe after luncheon, when Lileth, who had joined them, could be taken home, and Miss Carrington have an opportunity of admiring the scenery, as well as execute several small commissions in the

town.

As they waited for the carriage, Lady Hester was clearly conveying to Mr. Carrington's mind, in a close tête-à-tête, that they considered Gwendoline far too young for any engagement (by this means they gained time and further ascendency over her mind), that she was absolutely heart-whole, and they should be delighted to receive him as often as he could conveniently visit the Towers, so that he might have

VOL. XXXI.

opportunities of seeing and studying her, and winning her affection.

It was all beautifully spoken: it suggested the solicitude of a devoted mother alone seeking her child's welfare; it was a masterpiece of histrionic skill, and depicted her as the embodiment of one of the most agreeable future mothers-inlaw to be found. Mater pulchra filia pulchior, that was her pose, and it suited her admirably.

'She is such a mere child in age and feeling,' said her ladyship as he resigned himself to her views; 'it would be too soon, I know, to approach her with any hints relative to that most important step in every woman's life, marriage. After Christmas will be quite soon enough to make your intentions

known.'

After Christmas! There was not long to wait. He agreed with Lady Hester that the present might be too premature, and respected her maternal sentiments.

'You are quite sure she has no penchant elsewhere?' he said a little brusquely as the carriage dashed round to the hall-door, and he watched the dawning of a little aggrieved smile about her lips.

Positively certain. She never had the least vanity to make her seek admiration; besides, I have guarded her too well not to be able to speak with certainty on this point. She has a strong will; I'm not sure,' with a little strained laugh,' that she will even accept you.'

'I must wait,' he said quietly, speaking carelessly, but with an

D

undercurrent of emotion not lost on her quick ears; and as he spoke Gwendoline came down the staircase, dressed for her drive. He noticed a slight change in her today-that she was paler than her wont, and less buoyant; but it takes a great deal of suffering to produce any striking change on youth's bloom, and she owned to a slight headache. It was with considerable relief that Lady Hester saw him assist her into the carriage, and take his seat by her side. But though they might prevent Gwendoline from going out alone and unattended, they could not be at all certain that Hilliard would not invade the Towers at any moment.

'She really must not see him any more,' Lady Hester whispered to Dolly, as they sat together in the drawing-room after the carriage had driven away. You will have to get rid of him if he calls.'

Leave it to me, dear,' lisped Dolly, taking up her embroidery, 'I know so well what to say, and won't lose a point. Why, they've nothing to live on; the very idea is ridiculous!'

'Gwendoline must marry Mr. Carrington,' said Lady Hester after a pause: 'marriages founded on esteem and friendship generally end better than so-called lovematches;' and Dolly, with a treacherous little kiss, leaning over her mother and wishing she was St. Quinten, muttered,

'Of course, it's an excellent thing for her he will be a pattern husband-so much character and will. And I like his features, they resemble the first Bonaparte's.'

'There is no one living whom we have so much regard and respect for,' shaking back her dainty laces; the Earl, too, was charmed with him.'

'Besides, it will be so much safer for us all,' pursued Dolly. If he

can assist father, and has our interests at heart, it all fits in admirably.'

And your marriage with Hugh in the spring will complete our success. But there is Derwent to be thought of; he worries me dreadfully.'

'Yes,' sighed Dolly, changing colour; and, remembering the despairing and reckless utterances of the man she was ready to elope with sooner than abandon, Dolly felt capable of stealing out of their town house one day next spring in her Newmarket coat and lowcrowned hat to marry St. Quinten at any quiet church, so long as he took her away after, and her nerves were not bruised by a family row. Nevertheless, she kissed her mother again, and smoothed her capribbons, and drew down the blinds as she rang for tea.

'You want a nap, dear, I'm sure,' she said affectionately; ' and I'm going to write some letters in the library.'

'Do you think she really cares for Valentine Hilliard?' asked Lady Hester, with a sigh, lifting her head from the pillow Dolly had just placed under it.

'I'm afraid she does; she's been crying fit to break her heart for nights.'

She must not see him again, Dolly. I mean to go away the end of the month to Biarritz, Mentone, or Nice. The Hallinghams are at Nice, and Laura will make you a nice companion. Travelling will change your sister's thoughts; and there is a rumour that Hilliard's regiment will be ordered off on foreign service shortly. The Earl has given a hint in the right quarter, and I think we shall soon get rid of him, at least till she is married.'

'And then?' asked Dolly, somewhat amused, opening her large eyes.

'She will be in her husband's care, not ours.'

'You dear! what a shame you should be so worried! the anxiety of all this is quite telling on you.'

'That girl has always been a trouble to me; she was difficult to rule when she was younger, and with this new influence at work, it will be worse still.'

'Nevertheless, I think she has given in,' said Dolly soothingly, though why she's so quiet and resigned puzzles me.'

'Your father has been talking to her;' and then Dolly knew they had carried the day.

'You have a nice little nap till they return,' she whispered: 'an afternoon sleep is so good for the nerves; besides, you have to go to a dinner-party at Lady Ferndean's to night, and must really rest now.'

'Yes; I must have a quiet two hours till they return,' sighed her ladyship. 'I'm so glad you got rid of them for a drive. That Miss Carrington quite wears me out with her accounts of her shooting and hunting and love of sport. If there is one person I loathe more than another, it's a strongminded, vicious-tempered old maid.'

'She's really quite impayable,' laughed Dolly, closing the door softly behind her, and wears such thick boots-poor old thing!

The occupants of the barouche were rather silent for the first few miles, as they drove rapidly along the carriage roadway by the sea. Miss Carrington glanced suspiciously from Lionel to Gwendoline, and Lileth was absorbed in her own thoughts; then the elder lady's artistic perceptions were aroused by the beauty of the scenery, the height of the cliffs, the wildness of the sea; white masses of waves were breaking angrily on the shore, the headland and its jagged rocks were lashed by furious foam-crests,

and these portents, together with a dull sullenness in the lowering sky, foretold a storm.

'You are very fond of the sea?' Mr. Carrington said, addressing Gwendoline, wishing to find her thoughts responsive to his own. The sound of his voice broke in on her dreaming, and she looked at him with pained startled eyes, whose feverish light was kindled by an inward flame.

'I am indeed!' she answered, with all the enthusiasm of girlhood, her colour deepening, and childish frankness in her sensitive face.

'Gwendoline is a very plucky swimmer,' said Lileth warmly. She had transferred her affections from Dolly since Eric rivalled Hugh.

Gwendoline had relapsed into silence, as she shook her head with a faint sign of dissent. Was her life to be regulated by falsehood at last? She who would have died for the truth, was she called upon to renounce it at the call of duty, to save her father? This man sitting by her side was to be her husband. She must try to care for him; and a shiver ran through her as they passed the Abbey House, and she glanced at the old Gothic windows.

Lionel was picturing her as a mermaid, singing her siren songs, and floating on that glorious ocean breast, which, whether tranquil under the silver moonlight or flushed with the rosy glow of the east, is ever changeful and mysterious.

'I should think she is very brave,' he murmured, with a swift admiring glance. He remembered the hardened coquettes who had been introduced to him in society and deigned to be gracious-ballroom belles, with haughty smiles and supercilious glances; the doll tribe, trained to represent the perfection of well-bred femininity in snowy laces, gems, and flowers.