bygones be bygones, and to shake hands with the young fellow.

The next morning, bright and early, Miss Twitterley descended, in the extremest radiance of ribbons, brooch, and curls, on Fowler's Inn, and carried off the pining prodigal to the alley, where the transcendent episode of reconciliation, as the little spinster pronounced it, was rejoicingly enacted.

Mr. Hardrop walked home that night marvelling at the whole business, and amazed to find himself half-committed to professional action in it. He told the story to Dorinda, and learnt from that injured woman that he had not only interested himself in the affairs of Welbore's niece, but in the cause of his own daughter's successful rival. Dorinda, from sheer disdain, had never uttered such name as Blossom to her father, nor did he invite details. Mr. Hardrop, on learning this, became highly incensed with himself and everybody else concerned. But he took wit in his anger, and very soon came to see the position in another light. An extraordinary chain of accidents had transferred a very fine estate and a very large sum of money to the object of young Welbore's seemingly idiotic passion. Could the fellow have been playing a deep game all the time, and acting the fool, with a secret knowledge of the girl's real identity? At all events the turn of luck had saved the Welbores. He might set the law in motion next day, as he had threatened; he might seize on the belongings in Dorchesterplace for interest due on mortgage. But this would be after all but a small part of the reparation he had determined to exact. Legal formalities would delay his grand stroke for months; and long before he could deliver it, the member for Muddlebury would have floated

free on the good fortune of his

son.

He could only cause them temporary annoyance and inconvenience. Even the shame of publicity, which he had hoped to see an element in their ruin, would probably turn its edge against himself. The instinct of the crowd is that of the pack-it devours the fallen. But the Welbores, by recovering their feet, would improve their position, while his failure to destroy them would be called vindictive because it had failed. Failure would recoil on himself and his daughter, but it would help to invest the Welbores with the interest of a social romance. Thus cautiously weighing his movement, he concluded to suspend action and to nurse his wrath till he saw how things turned out. He wrote a line to Lynton withdrawing from the case, but suggesting a substitute.

But

Hardrop showed discretion and forecast; Darkin did not make a fight. As he had said, Fate was too strong for him. The family solicitors at Muddlebury naturally advised the kindling of litigation out of such noble material. even these gentry, loth as they were to let such a windfall pass, upon investigation of the proofs, retreated on the compromise offered by way of amicable settlement, and in order to carry out his wife's appeal for consideration for Arthur Darkin.

How Blossom was transplanted from Fowler's-alley to Dorchesterplace, what tearing up of heartroots, what anguish and jubilee attended that process, are things not to be related in one chapter. Or how Miss Chadleigh took possession of her property, stealing down by a night train in company of her uncle, in order to avoid the pageant the tenantry had prepared for the triumphal entry of their

young mistress. How the enthusiastic dependents were not to be denied, but appeared in full demonstration on the carriage-sweep before the ancient house. How they read an address to their young mistress, all blushing as she stood on the hall-steps, leaning on her uncle's arm, and made her little acknowledgment, happy tears in her eyes, her sweet voice trembling: 'I am very, very thankful to you all, my dear friends.' How Mr. Welbore, M.P., more pompous and portly than ever in the elevating and comfortable belief that he had himself, by sheer diplomacy and political tact, dispelled the clouds which lowered upon his house and unravelled the whole difficulty, more than made up for the embarrassed brevity of his niece by a protracted speech in his best parliamentary manner-all this is matter to be just mentioned.

But that there is no trifling with facts, it would be possible to record that the marriage of Talbot Welbore and that of his friend Dr. Lynton took place on the same day. But they did not. The trumpet of fame which Hymen sounds daily in a corner of the newspaper proclaimed the marriage of Walter Lynton and Edith Welbore a full three months before Talbot Welbore and Ada Chadleigh took, hand in hand, the true Leucadian leap.

Talbot Welbore would have gone for a parliamentary scat at the last general election, but there happened just at that time to arrive at Chadleigh Manor a stranger of the first power and influence, upon whom he was obliged to wait in constant personal attendance. This was his son and heir. Had the young gentleman not presented himself just then, it was intended that Talbot should succeed his father in Muddlebury. Had the arrangement been carried

out, there is no saying what would have come of it by this. When Trumpington reported it to the noble young chief of the Fourth Party, passing at the same time complimentary remarks upon the new candidate, Lord Hotspur said he should keep a look-out, and try to snaffle a recruit who seemed to have in him the stuff necessary for that brotherhood, few, but fearless, who refused to bow the knee to the Baal of Party, or to efface themselves in grovelling obedience to their leaders.

As it is, Mr. Grantley Welbore, full of parliamentary years and honour, acts as warming pan for his son, who is safe to succeed him. Even if Muddlebury were to turn upon the race which has represented it so long, all Ireland would remain open to the Lord of Chadleigh Manor-jure uxoris. Mr. Doherty assured him a year ago that he has only to keep himself to himself a while or so to find himself stuck in a bit of a hole-which is Mr. Doherty's euphemism for a constituency in his native isle.

Mr. Doherty exerted himself manfully to secure the prize of Park-terrace. He did not achieve success, but he deserved it. Discovering, by a series of well-considered experiments, that Mr. Hardrop cared nothing for him, and unwilling to risk an acquaintance and an entrée, not perhaps of great practical value in themselves, but withal among the possessions a sociable exile will most carefully preserve, he curbed a desperate impulse to risk a declaration in form. He raised the siege without display, and quietly took a post of observation, which he maintains to this day. He does not despair, however, and for two reasons: first, no mischance could break his self-confidence; and, again, he sees no rival in the

field. Neither does he lie utterly on his arms. He practises perpetual small tentatives, employed on the principle that constant dropping wears away the rock. Dorinda is obdurate; but, after all, she is a woman.

Mr. Thomas Warnock, it will be anticipated, was installed at the Manor as steward, overseer, and grand adviser. He knows nothing of the rotation of crops or the qualities of cattle, but agriculture and sheep-raising are taken care of with a tender regard for his ignorance. The function he discharges with most effect and liking is that of dry nurse and companion to Miss Caroline Welbore, whom he declares, the young lady being now eighteen months old, to be the very paragon of the child he picked up on the mardyke that stormy night long ago. 'You couldn't find two roses in the "Garden" more alike,' says Mr. Warnock.

Miss Twitterley spends months of each year in Chadleigh, and would, perhaps, accept the stand

ing invitation to take up her permanent residence there, but for Mr. Grimble. 'She cannot let that sullen simpleton loose on the world,' she says.

The Professor's philosophy is exactly what Mr. Hardcastle in the comedy defined Philosophy to bea very good horse in the stable, but an arrant jade on a journey. Without the protection of his eccentric but managing relative, the Crane street Diogenes would probably find himself reduced to the tub. But she requires sympathy, and Peter not being a person to give it, she frequently visits Chadleigh in search of congenial spirits, and in order to see old friends and new. Her allowance from Parkterrace has been stopped; but Talbot quadrupled it, and she now lives in the semi-genteel privacy of a closed and shuttered shop.

Arthur Darkin vanished quickly out of sight, and may be dismissed as summarily as those who have made but a minor or passing appearance in this tale.

And the moral ?

CHAPTER I.

IN the stillness of the summer night two people, standing under the overshadowing boughs of a silvery beech in the shrubbery at Harrington Hall, tried to spoil each other's lives by a spirit of mischief on one side, a demon of jealousy on the other. For the last week which they had spent together under Colonel Harrington's roof, Madge Farquhar had thought fit to keep her lover at a distance, and allow herself to be amused with the half playful homage of other men, who, knowing that she was forbidden fruit, naturally looked at her with longing eyes and paraded their hopeless devotion.

'I picked you the very best rose I could find, and you came down to dinner with a bunch of nasty yellow weeds in your dress; and then you expect me to be pleased!'

Roses are out of date; weeds are the fashion.'

'Yes; and other old-fashioned things, like woman's constancy and faith-they are all out of date, and a man's a fool to expect them.'

'Then don't, and you won't be disappointed.' And Madge, a little elf-like creature in a primrose-coloured dress, pushed back the soft curls of hazel-tinted hair which were straying over her low forehead, and looked up into his clouded face, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief.

Then what's to become of the future? Mutual trust is rather

needful ballast for a matrimonial venture.'

'Certainly it is; and I can really trust you,' she said meditatively— 'at least, to like me very much, so long as somebody else seems to like me better.'

If that is all you can say '—and Troy Trevor looked down into her laughing eyes with the darkness of suppressed passion in his own

don't you think I had better cut it? The "somebody" who seems to like you better may make you happier as well.'

'Only seems-remember that ; one can never tell.'

'No; you can't tell-till you try. And he thought of his wasted devotion, whose strength had been tried by years.

'It would be nice to have "somebody" without frowns and growls and scoldings always ready in stock; but perhaps I should miss them if I never got them. Too much sugar is rather sickening.'

Is it my fault if I sometimes use bad language, when you goad me beyond endurance?'

'I suppose so; at least, it's my misfortune.'

'Am I to stand by and hold my tongue, and let the other men have it all their own way?'

"O no; you might talk sometimes-ask a riddle, and that sort of thing, to show you are not grumpy.'

'Thank you! Do you think I could be tolerably, decently content with a wife who took care to

tell me, by every word and look and deed, that every other biped in coat and trousers, whether fool, fop, or-or blackguard, was better to talk to, better to look at, and better to think of than myself?'

Beside himself with rage, he glared at her sweet little face with ferocious eyes, and, unable to restrain his passion, threw down the glove.

'Nobody asked you, sir,' she said, taking it up at once; and a soft cooing laugh, which jarred in discordant mockery with the gravity of the crisis, roused a sleeping linnet from its nest.

Then, by Heaven, I'm afraid!' and, white as his own evening tie, Trevor raised himself from his recumbent position against the trunk of a tree, and folded his arms across his chest. It seemed

useless to rage and fret and fume when the object of so much violent emotion was sitting composedly on an ivy-grown stump, idly twisting a blade of grass in and out her tiny fingers.

The moonlight fell, like a kiss from an angel's lips, across his angry face, where the tempest in his heart was shown by his quivering mouth and knitted brows. Troy was honest and true, open as a child who has never been taught deceit by the folly or the injustice of its elders; prone to quick passion, either of love or hate; accustomed to make up his mind on all points without the prudence of hesitation; sharp enough in the ways of the world, but blind as a baby to all the little whims and fancies of a woman's wayward heart; and therefore as surely doomed to mistakes in love as ever was Parsee widow to the flames of the suttee.

Madge rose from her seat. The courage was not all on the man's side.

'So the play is over, and we

VOL. XXXI.

must change our parts,' she said coolly, with a shrug of her dainty shoulders and a little tell-tale shiver. The night was warm, almost to suffocation; but she caught up a black lace veil which she had dropped, and tied it with cold. fingers round her soft white throat.

'No; you can keep yours. There will be plenty to step into mine.'

'That is a comfort '— with a joyless laugh. I am not to be left lamenting.'

'As if I didn't know that it made you supremely happy only to be free!' he cried bitterly, for his heart felt ready to burst. Haven't you been working me up to this ever since we first set foot in this cursed hole?'

'Don't abuse the dear old Abbey; it is the nicest place under the sun;' and she looked round approvingly at the old gray turreted building, with the ivy of forgotten centuries climbing up its walls, and the two solemn cedars on the lawn, like twin and sable guardian angels, sheltering it from northern blasts with outstretched arms.

The dear old Abbey-and its heir,' he said, with a sneer; but the sneer died away on his lips as she gave him a backward look of quiet scorn over her shoulder.

'I see no use in stopping out here to wrangle. Let us go and find some of our friends.'

'Well said, Miss Farquhar;' and Vane Harrington-the heir, the rival, and the infinitely pleasant, but most dangerous of ne'er-doweels-stepped out of the shadows of the shrubbery, and stood, straight and tall as a young poplar, before the pair of unloving lovers, his bold blue eyes twinkling, a mischievous smile curling the short upper lip and yellow moustaches. 'Here is one who has been looking for you for the last half-hour. If I'm not wanted'-with a comical look-'I will be off like a shot.'

LL