PROBATION: A TALE OF THE LANCASHIRE COTTON FAMINE;

Bvr MISS JESSIE FOTIIERGILL,

Author of "Healoy," "Aldyth," "The First

Violin," etc,

CHAPTER VIII

AFTER-THOUGHTS

"What ails thee, Mylcs?" asked his sister, as he came into the kitchen. "Me ? Nothing lass. Here's your straps. Tyc new one has had a kind of inauguration, but I reckon it will have done it good more likely than harm." "What dost mean?" she asked, staring at him. " Oh, nothing !" said ho with a slight laugh, as he leaned against the mantel piece with his arms folded behind him, his favourite attitude. "Hast changed my book Myles?" in quired Edmund. "Eh, I clean forgot it," replied Myles with a start. " I'm very sorry. Pact is, I was called off, and I never thought of tho books again." " Well it doesn't matter," answered Edmund, who was in high good-humour at liia mother's absence. Mary also seemed less constrained, though nothing would have induced her to own she was glad her mother had loft them. She moved about more freely, and as she passed to and fro, " putting things to rights," she was heard to sing snatches of no less a song of praise than the "Old Hundredth." And when her household work was done (for Mylcs' ad venture had not taken long, and it was now barely eight o'clock) she brought her work, and sat down with her brothers; and though there were shadows brooding over them all—darker shadows, and deeper, than they imagined—they formed a very happy trio. Mary felt especially happy and contented. She was devoted to her brothers—loved Edmund with a mother's and sister's love combined, while she looked upon Mylcs as her ideal of all that was good and manly. Ho had given her no cause to think other wise. With regard to her own merits, she was humble ; but let anyone impeach in the slightest degree those of Myles or Edmund, and she became fierce, proud, and resentful. Something in Myles' mien to-night disturbed her, she knew not why. '■' Wilt have the pipe, lad ? It's thecr; I'st get it in a minute. "No thank you Molly. I don't care about smoking to night." " Did her any one see sich a chap ?"' said Mary, secretly filled with pride in him. He's ne'er drinks, and he ne'er hardly smokes, and he's done nowt disagree able. " "He hasn't a redeeming vice," said Myles, ironically, watching her fingers as she plied her needle, and forcing himself to speak, though he did it half mechanically. What was she making ? He asked. "A shirt." " Por whom ?" " Why, for theo, lad !" said Mary, with a laugh and a look at him; and Myles returned the look with a smile, and instantly became lost in a long train of re flection. Edmund and Mary loved him, and looked up to him as to a superior being, as the centre figure in their lives, and the person around whom clustered their hopes, fears, and loves. Beyond them, out of their circle, was Adrienne Blissct '■ was it in the nature of tilings, that she could ever behold him with eyes like theirs ? No, never, because she was instructed, and they were ignorant. Well, was adoration the best thing for a man ? Was it not better to adore ? Could there be any shame in the worship of a woman like Adrienne? He decided, no. It was not the giving up of independance—it was the bending to a superior being which, when that attitude was self-elected was the highest indepen dance. Here all was secure, safe, assured. Nothing would ever change the love of these

two for him : outside there, where Adrienne was, all was stormy, cloudy, fevwish, un certain : he knew not what she thought of him—what feelings, or no feelings her gracious maimer might cover. He had defended her—from the first, moment of their intercourse his attitude had been made by circumstances a protect ing one : ho felt at once an inferiority and a superiority to her, which two things do surely form part of the primal basis to pure and holy love. He stood still, leaning against the chimney-piece, thinking of what lie had this night done for her sake, and his face flushed at the remembrance.

" Can she ever be like another woman to mc?" he thought. "It is impossible. If it is possible I should be a clod." For what he had done counted for something with Myles: he was not one of those heroes who will thrash you half a dozen fellows, twice as big iis themselves, and then require to be reminded of such a trifle.

He was not quite sure even now that he felt unmixed satisfaction in the deed. To thrash a cowardly bully, who seemed unable to express himself without tho as sistance of copious volleys of oaths, was one hing, and Myles contemplated with some complacency the fact that he had done it. But if any evil consequences should ensue to Adrienne !

After a moment ho reassured himself. He did not believe that Spenceley knew her name. He had not mentioned" it. Mylcs would have died rather than ut'er it him self in that company—that would indeed have been a casting of pearls before swine of which he was naturally incapable. If Mr Spenceley chose to prosecute him he would own himself guilty, and take his punishment—anything rather than drag her name into discussion; but he doubted much whether Spenceley would wish to draw public attention so pointedly to the fact that he had been flogged by a workman in the billiard room. That would have been to expose his own brutal insolence and violence, and to hint, moreover, at some miscreditable deed in the background which had called forth this attack. Myles began to wonder how this beautiful sister of his, whom he had spoken to that morning could it be that morning—would receive her brother. Then his thoughts wandered off again to Adrienne, "At any rate, I can't face her yet, I must stay quiet till it has blown over. Perhaps as she's so very quiet, and goes out so little, she'll not hear about it; and then I could call, and not mention it, and it would all pass over." A knock at the back door roused him.

Mary lifted her head, and cried " Come in !" but after a pause the knock was re newed.

" It's Harry," observed Edmund. '' Thou mun open to him Myles, or he'll go on knocking for half an hour," " Ay, poor lad, I suppose he will," said Myles, going towards the door, while Mary maintained absolute silence, conti nuing her work.

Mylcs soon returned, accompanied by a young man, slight and somewhat delicate looking, pale-faced and fair complexioned, whose (palm, open countenance was plea

sant to look upon, despite a certain vague ness in its expression—not a want of intel ligence or anything approaching vacancy, but rather as if something escaped him and left him apart from other people. " Good evcniii,' Mary—cvenin', Ned," he said, in the softest and gentlest of voices. "Sit down, Harry, and have supper with us," said Mylcs ; and when he spoke Harry Ashworth's infirmity became appa rent. Mylcs had to go close up to him and speak, not very loudly, but very slowly and clearly. He was almost deaf, in conse quence of a fever, he had had when a boy of twelve. He was twenty-five now, and the weakness increased each year; it was pro bable that in a few more years he would be stone deaf. He was a frequent visitor to the Hoywood's, and a great friend of Mylcs and Edmund ; Mary and he had little to say beyond the words of greeting and fare well. There was a certain constraint this even ing immediately after his entrance, on account of what had happened in regard to Mrs Hcywood, but the constraint was dissi pated by Harry himself. " I hear your mother has gone," he re marked. Mylcs assented in a grave sort of way. Mary's checks Hushed, and she did not raise her eyes from her work. " She thinks of being married soon, then ?' " I expect so, said Myles. "Ah, said Harry : and then, without any embarrassment, changed the subject. "We may expect changes soon, Mylcs I reckon." " What changes ?" asked Myles, who had come close to Harry, while the latter had placed his chair beside Edmund's sofa. "The master's coming back —so I hear." " Oh, him 1" said Myles, again trying to turn up his nose, and again failing to do so. Harry laughed, and Mary remarked : " Eh, but I could like to see yon chap. He mun be some and clever." " Molly thinks he must be clever," said Mylcs to Harry who nodded. " 1 don't see why he shouldn't be, choose how. I think you're a bit hard on him, Myles. Wc know no harm on him." " Yes, we do. We know he's neglected his business and his property. He's six and twenty if he's a day, and he's never looked in upon us since he came into possession. He's a gawmloss chap—he must bo." "Weil, west see that when ho conies. Have you heard as Mr Lippencott, his health's failin', aud he's ordered abroad ? They say he can't live,'' Mr Lipmncott was the sitting member for Tluiusliopc. "Nay, I heard nothing of that," said Mylcs reflectively. " Then, suppose he dies, wc shall have a fresh election. "Ay ; and I have heard," pursued Harry not without a twinkle of humour in his eyes, " as it's possible Mr Mallory may stand, if Mr Lippencott resigns or dies." "\\ bat!'' ejaculated Mylcs. " And who is to oppose him?" " Spcnceley—Bargaining Jack." " Why, Myles, thou'd be hard set to know who to vote for," said Mary inno cently. Myles suddenly recovered his presence of mind, and shouted to Harry : " You've heard wrong, lad. Mallorys are all Tories, aud always have been—its bred iv the bone ; and Bargaining Jack reckons to be a Conservative too, so far as he's anything. Conservatives manage better than us. They would never run two candi dates in Thanshope- in fact they only run one for the look of the thing. They can't get the wedge in here." " Well, I have heard too," continued Harry, "as how Mallory is a Radical—a Liberal, choose how." ■ " That I'll never believe till I hear him say it himself," said Myles, decidedly. "And from all I've heard, I think you've been misinformed, Harry." " Well, perhaps f have." said Harry pea ceably. "It doeseu't matter to me which way it is."

Nor did tho others appear to take much ; interest in the subject, for it dropped, and Mary began to get supper ready. At that meal the conversation was car ried on almost entirely between Harry and Myles. Harry was a spinner in receipt of a large wage. He was, as has been said, a pleasant comely-looking young man, and if nut very robu<t, did not look un healthy. Many of his friends wondered why he did not marry ; for he was turned twenty-live He and Mylcs and Mary Hey wood were beginning to be looked upon as drifting into the old maid and bachelor rank". At all times, early—terribly early marriages are the rule in Lancashire '. but in those halcyon years of plenty and g»lden prosperity preceding the American civil war they had been more numerous than over. After supper, Edmund, stretching out his arms, said in ti muffled kind of voice : " Eh, I say it is some and hot here. I wonder what its like outside." " Why the air's pleasant enough on the Townficld," said Harry. "I would like to feel it," remarked Edmund. " I've not been out these three days." " Well, come along aud take a turn," said Myles good-naturedly, well knowing that Edmund's motive for suggesting such a thing at that time was that the dusk was rapiply gathering; there were fewer people about, and he was less likely to be observed. Edmund jumped at the offer, and Myles, giving him his cap, drew his brother's arm through his, and shouting to Harry : " Wilt come with us, or wilt stay with Molly ?' " l'st stay and have a pipe till you come in, if Mary's no objection," said Harry, and Mary, by way of answer, pointed' to a china basket on the mantelpiece, iv which stood half a dozen neatly made "spills." These spills were a mystery to the house hold. Mary gave it out that she liked to have them. They looked tidy-like, and did for lighting the pipes : but it was a well-known fact, that Edmund did not smoke at all, that Myles preferred to light his pipe with a coal or a match, and that the only visitor who enjoyed the privilege of smoking in that kitchen was Harry Ashworth. Yet no one ever suggested that the lighters were kept in stock for Harry's benefit, though Edmund had been perilously near doing so once or twice ' Had he or any one elss uttered that theory, It is impossible to imagine what Mary would have said—possibly nothing at all, for she was in practice at least a strong upholder of the theory that "silence is golden." The two brothers went out, leaving the door open, and waft of tho somewhat cooler outside air penetrated to the kitchen. The gas was not yet lighted ; the fire had burnt low; the room was almost dark. Mary could no longer see to work, and sat, with her head thrown a little backwards, in the high-backed, red-cushioned rocking-chair. The clock ticked; everthing was very still. It was Harry who spoke first, in his soft voice. "Warm and close this here weather, Mary." " Ay," said Mary, " tis." " How does Ned get on?' he asked; for though she did not speak very loudly, she

poke deliberately, and he appeared to her her easily. " He feels th' heat aboon a bit," replied Mary. " Ah ; I dare say." A pause while Harry puffed away at his pipe, and Mary offered no further observa tions on men or things. "I took a long walk o' Sunday—yester day," observed Mylcs at last. "Did you? Where too?" " lleet o'er the moors to th' top o' Black •«lt's to' far. Thou'rt none strong eno' for sich like walks." "Yea, but I am. I set me down on the heather, and listened wi' ail my might, and I thowt I heard a bird singing." Happen a lark ?" said Mary, after a per ceptible pause. " Happen, I should ha' gone to church in th' evenin', but I cant hear—nowt dis tinct, that's to say : and I'm a'most inclined to think that I didn't hear yon lark, but only thoowt I did—from memory, thou known." "Ay," assented Mary. " And when I go into church, and hear the organ buzzin' and th' voices all mixed up wi' it, and can't make out what it is, it fair moithors me ; same as when I look up, and see th' parson speakin', and don't know what it's about.'' " Ay," said Mary, laconically as ever ; but this lime there was the faintest possible vibration in her voice. And there was another long pause, while Mary's eyelids drooped. lie did not see that; it was too dark. And, had he seen it, he could not have known that those eye lids were sore with suppressed tears, which burnt them, and which she would not allow to flow. "Sometimes," his voice broke in again, " I get discontended. I'm main fond of music, as you know Mary." "Ay, I know thou art." " And it troubles me above a bit some limes as I should be deaf, for it just takes away my greatest pleasure. Sometimes I wish I'd been blind instead." No answer from Mary, till Harry, in a hesitating voice, said : "What dost think, Mary? Is it very wrong to have such thoughts ?" "No, Idunnot," replied Mary. "I call it very natural. If I was deaf, I reckon I should make more noise about it than you do. I wonder what them chaps is doin'. It's time they was comin' in." " Don't thou go out. I'll find 'em, and tell 'em, for I mun be goin' too," said Harry rising. Mary had begun to poke the fire violen tly, and now let the poker fall, as Harry, without knowing it, had advanced close to her, so that her elbow struck against his outstretched hand, " Dule take the fircirons !" she said im patiently. " I conna think what ails'cm. Good neet to you, if you mun be going," she added, shaking hands with him, and, as soon as he was gone lighting the gas. Presently her brothers came in. The house was locked up. Mary went to bed, followed by Edmund. Myles was left by the dying-out kitchen fire, with a book on the table, which he never opened, but sat till far into the night, living through some of those strange hours of still, silent, yet vivid, rushing mental life which come to all of us sometimes in our youth, and which are like no other hours in our expe rience.

CHAPTER IX.

A TEA FAKTY.

Mir war's so wohl, co weh I AFTEE that evening Mylcs found himself in a position which lie at least found full of difficulties. Two things happened, both of which he had looked upon as probable—the news of what had happened spread, and Frederick Spenceley did not prosecute. The waiter who had allowed Myles to go into the billiard room was dismissed; the billiard marker, who had stood by, shared the same fate. It would be difficult to guess what object, real or supposed, was gained by this mea sure ; but it seemed to afford great satis faction to many minds. Spenceley found it convenient to leave home for some weeks, and Myles heard no more of his share in the transaction. There were endless tales in circulation. The facts, the names, the cause of the affair, all got mixed up in the wildest and most inextricable confusion, as in such cases they always do. The principles maintained absolute silence, and let report work what wonders it would or could. Bear not false witness ; let the lie H >vo time on its own win)?s to fly 1 They adhered to the precept, and the result was that they and their grievances weresoon completely obscured in the buzz of talk, conjecture, wrong guesses, and wild sur mises which gathered about them like a thick cloud. One thing soon became appa rent, and, once secure of that, Myles cared nothing for the rest. Adrienne's name was not known. The cause of the fracas was generally supposed to be a woman ; but the tale which gained the greatest favour was one taking the side of the workman—that mysterious " workman," whose name had somehow disappeared in the midst of con tradictory reports, and whom no one could distinctly specify, because there were so many workmen in Thanshope. How was a "eiitecl person to know one linen jacket or its, wearer from another? This report, which preserved a kind of likeness amidst all its variations, was to the effect that Fredrick Spenceley had deserved his thrash ing, for that he had been taking undue liberties with the young man's sweetheart; and her name was Sally Rogers, was Fran cis Alice Kershaw, and she was a dress maker, was a mill hand, and lived in half a dozen places, and worked in as many fac tories, quite certainly and positively. She was very pretty, and he was very jealous ; or, she was not a particularly good-looking girl, but Fred Spenceley had had words with the young man before-, and had wished to insult him. Myles maintained a rigid silence upon the subject, even when Mary came in one day in a state of unusual excitement, exclaim ing: "Eh ! Ned, Mylcs, have ye hcerd tell o' what's happened ?' " What?" "Jack Spenceley's lad has had such a leathering !" said Mary, and told the rest of it with much excitement and volubility, for her. Edmund manifested a lively interest in the story, and Myles admitted indifferently that he had heard something about it. They were, however, not much given to gossiping at that house, and the subject soon dropped. Then came Myles' other difficulty. He did not know whether boldly to go and call at Mr Blisset's, as he longed and desired to do, or whether to remain away. He plagued himself with wondering what she thought about it, and then tried to believe that she had perhaps not even heard of it—her life was so very retired, she saw aud heard so little of what was going on outside. Then he might go ? But suppose she did know, and he appeared as if he came to bo thanked aud made a hero of ? He contradicted him self ten times a day; decided to go—to stay —to go—and stayed because he absolutely could not decide which was best. So the days went on until Saturday, and he had not had a glimpse of her—only the

remembrance of her grateful eves and the pressure of her hand, as she bade him good bye at her uncle's gate before it had all hap pened. When Saturday afternoon came his longing to see her was growing almost un bearable, and he had the sensation that if lie went out of the house his feet would turn mechanically towards Blake-street.

It was Saturday afternoon; the clock hands pointed to five ; Mary's "cleaning" . was over, and the house was quiet. Edmund lay upon his sofa with a headache, and ' Myles was softly reading to him, glad of some monotonous occupation which should ■ divert his thoughts somewhat from the topic i which at present tyrannised over him. Edmund had been reading in a maga . zinc about the work of the Bronte sisters, and Myles had procured him "Jane Eyre" and "Wuthcring Heights" from the free . library. "Wuthering Heights" lay as yet untouched; it had not yet laid its \ its strong and dreadful spell on the boy's spirit. They were deep in "Jane Eyre." It proved a spell which caused Edmund to forget his headache, and enchained the at • tention of Myles himself, with its passionate expression of the equality of soul and soul, i and its eager conviction of the supremacy of mind over the differences of rank or place. Its burning Radicalism went straight to Myles' soul, while its deep poetry touched Edmund's inmost heart. At this moment they were wandering with " Jane over the summer moors, home less, friendless, foodless, penniless; and they had forgotten all outside things with her, as she reposed herself beneath the broad sky on the friendly bosom of her mother—Nature. " Hist!" said Edinuud,suddenly, " there's a knock." Mylcs paused. Some one knocked at the .front door. Mary had heard it, and rose from her rooking chair. " Thee go on wi' thi' readin," said she going out; and they heard her, open the door, and a low voice—a woman's voice—ask her some question. With an inarticulate exclamation, Mylcs half rose, the book open in his hand, and as Edmund was in the act of inquiring what was the matter, Mary came inagaiu, look ing rather bewildered, and saying, as she turned to some one who followed her; " Myles, here's a lady wants to speak to thee." " Why did you not come ?" said Adrienne, going straight up to Myles, " Why have you never been to see me ? I have waited and waited, until I could wait no longer." He stood, crimson, unable to speak a word, but looking at her withjjeyes that must have told their tale—whicli.must have warned her had she been less excited and earnest. "How could you go and do a thing like that, and then never take any further notice of me?" she continued. "I have thought of nothing else since I heard of it. It was most wonderfully foolish—oh, very foolish ; but oh, I do thank you and honour you for it, with all my heart. It is exactly what such canaille deserve, and it was nobly done—it was indeed !" "Miss Blisset—you—you —it was nothing. Anyone would have done it. I couldn't have rested or slept till I had punished Mm. I was obliged to do it." "Ah that is how you put it, no doubt, but anyone would not have felt so—only you would. I can never thank you— never." "Well, don't, then! I—it makes me ashamed of myself—it does indeed," said he earnestly. ■'* But whativer is it o' about miss ?" said Mary putting into words her own and Edmund's boundless astonishment. - "Is it possible," said Adrienne, turning with wide open eyes to Myles—" is it pos sible that you have never told them ? Did he not tell you?" " Nay, he's ne'er told usnowt." said Mary. " I ;never heard of anything so extra ordinary," said Adrienne, with still a vibra tion in her voice, which showed how much she was moved. "You must have heard about that man—Spenceley—who insulted mo, and " "Thank Heaven, your name has never been uttered," interposed Myles hastily. " And your brother, who had once before sent him away when he tried to annoy me at the library, went to make him promise to behave himself, and: he would not- Was not that it! So he Hogged him." " Eh—Myles !" said Mary, with a long drawn intonation, compounded of incredu lity, pride, and pleasure. " Eh—h— Myles ! I niver did—no, niver!" " So it were you, Myles," said. Edmund. •' Thou hast kept some and quiet about it. But I am glad thou did it," " And he has never come near my home — never given me a chance of thanking him." pursued Adrienne. " Y^u must understand now why I have come." " Ay, I can so," said Mary, regarding her with great favour and cordiality, for this praise of Myles touched her to the very heart. "Won't you sit down," she added. '*' I don't wish to disturb you," said Adrienne, ..hesitating. " Eh, no such thing. Sit you down," said Mary, drawing up the rocking chair, in which Adrienne sat down, and Myles stood leaning against one end of the mantelpiece; feeling the need of a support of some kind, for he felt a sort of intoxication and a bewil derment, and a strange, subtle, new life, in the very fact of Adrienne's presence. "I had to inquire where you lived," she said, looking up at him. " You did not even tell me that. You once mentioned you lived on the Townfield, and I thought I should never find your house; but the first person I met told me where you lived. But would you never have come ?' "I—l hardly liked to come. Ididnotknow whether you might have been—displeased, perhaps,'' he said with some embarrass ment. "My uncle has often asked when you were coming. He wants to. see you again. But now you will come soon - yes ?" " I—yes. I should like to," said he. " I hope you don't mind my coming here," said Adrienne to Mary. *'Eh, no! Lord no!" said Mary ear nestly. " I'm reet glad to see you. Yon chap would ne'er ha'told us what he'd been doin'. He's so - stupid." '* Yes -so I shouldthink," said Adrienue, meeting Mary's eyes 'with a smile. And then, looking atEdmund, she said, " I have heard of you too. You are not strong." " No," said Mary, answering for him. " He's ne'er one o' th' strongest, and to-day he's gotten a headache." " Don't you do anythtng for your head aches?" "Nay; I just bide 'em out." " That is a pity. I could do something for them. If I come again, I will bring you something that will do them good." She went on talking to Mary and Edmund who seemed to feel no embarrassment in the intercourse. Adrienne certainly posses-, sedin a high degree the art of putting people at their e.v~e in her company. Mary and Edmund were not usually communicative in first interviews with strangers; but this stranger appeared to take their hearts by storm, and quickly succeeded in making them forget that there was any difference in station between them. She apologised for her intrusion much more particularly than she would have done to a woman whose servant had opened the door, taken her card, and announced her with a flourish. This demeamour was not put on—it ■ was

! her natural, spontaneous manner, spring. • ing from instinctive politeness and genia • lity of nature. Everything about her was t true and pure —what Myles was accustomed • to call in the vernacular " jannock." E Mary, also, was nothing if not jannock; i and the two girls—the lady and the fac tory worker—seemed instinctively to get on. : ' •' I must not detain you any longer now," ' said Adrienne, at last. "I see you are I going to have your tea. But I should like I to know you. Would you mind if 1 came i again, now and then ?" i " Eh, Fat be vary glad," said Mary, "if : so be we're not too simple and plain like for you. Yo' seen we're nobbut workinc - folk " Well, I am a working person too, and 1 like seeks like," said Adrienne. • "I reckon you're a different mak' o' i worker fro' us, said Mary. j.. "I am sure I work as hard as you at i least, and am as tired and as glad of rest of ' you, when my work is done." > •'You look tired now," said Mary, - fixing her large, clear eyes upon Adrienrie's 3 pale and somewhat weary face, from which , the glow had faded. " Where do you r live?" ' . f r "Up at Stonegate, in Blakc-stree't. " t My certy ! But that's a good step!" t said Mary, who, like many of her class, was nothino of a walker, " We're jnst going to > have our tay—won't you draw .up - and have a sup, and- a bit o' summat to 1 eat ?" i That homely, cordial Lancashire invita > tion, " Come and have' a sup, and a bit o' • summat to eat"—what Lancashire ears are there that do not know it and love-it for i the kind thoughts it arouses !• It went straight home to our lonely Adrienne ;'a : mist rushed over her eyes, she said some : what hesitatingly : •'Oh, I should like it. You are very s kind, but I fear -" she half turned to Myles. - --. . _ "Myles, coom out o' yon corner, and behave tinsel', mon ! Thou can when thous i a mind to," said Mary, briskly. " Now i draw up," she added to Adrienne. ''Tak' , off your hat, and I'st hang it up so ! And Myles '11 see you home. He's got nowt to do to-neet." Mary must have been inspired when she , made this suggestion. " Oh, I need not trouble him now," said Adrienne, with a radiant smile upon the approaching Myles—"unless he has for gotten the way to my Uncle's house, as I begin to think." "It's much better I should go with you. It's Saturday evening," said Mylcs, seating himself beside her, and throwing a fleeting glance towards her face. She was content, pleased, even flattered at the friendly way in which she had been received. Her expression said that as plainly as words could do. Myles began to lose somewhat of his bewilderment and to gain somewhat more confidence. " Eh, I've forgotten th' mowffins !" said Mary, suddenly, a shade crossing her face. " We mun really wait, while I toast the mowffins." She jumped up and produced tea-cakes out of a cupboard, and Myles suggested that perhaps it did not matter about the muffins. Mary was, however, firm,' and bade him cut some bread and butter while she toasted. And mind thou cuts it nice and thin, and not all i' lumps, she added in admoni tary tones. .'-•'•' Myles, much too simple minded'to see ' anything derogatory in cutting bread and butter, began, but in half a minute Adrienne had jumped up and laid hold of the knife. "Stop ! That is clearly not your sphere," said s'>c, laughing into his cmbarrassd yet ever attractive face. "It is not stern enough—not commanding enough. Let me doit" : -~„' Unaware of tho distinguished example set by the Wetzlar heroine in the bread-and butter-cutting line, Myles watched the deft fingers of his enchantress as if ho woman had ever been known to cut bread and butter properly before. Mary, who grew visibly and every moment more satisfied with her guest, toasted the "mowffins," buttered them, and tea was proclaimed ready with accla mation. ";.!, Then Edmund came to the table ; they all sat there, and Mary made tea instate, apologising for not having the best tea things because of the impromptu nature of of the visit. " I am sure these seem delightful tea tkings," said Adrienne, smiling. . The festivity w*as altogether successful as regarded Adrienne, Mary, and Edmund. But Miss Blisset cast every now and then fleeting glances at Myles, and was not quite at her ease about him, for he alone of all the party was silent and grave. It was the deep intensity of the delight within him, that caused this, but Adrienne could not be supposed to know that—in very truth, as yet she houestly believed the greater admiration and liking to be on j her side. That delusion was soon : to be ended, but at present she was tinder its influ ence, j. ... - :.;:'.>..: •■•.■ ■■ . The meal was not long over when she said she must go, and promising Mary ,to come again, she went away, accompanied by Myles. . ; Their way lay through what was called " The Park." They turned in at the large iron gates of a town pleasure ground, laid out in gravel walks, grass plots, seats, and flower beds. They were on a height.. The town lay below, with the gilded spire of the Town Hall cleaving the air, and . the hazy-looking blue wall of Blackrigg to the north and north-west. As they walked slowly along, a broad terrace, unoccupied, but by themselves, Adrienne asked in her quick foreign way: " Say to me, Mr Heywood—you arc vexed that I came?" • ; ■ v " I—vexed—nay !" was all that he could

The current which for the last "Week had ever been hurrying more and more quickly forward had now arrived at the verge. It leapt over it in a bound, and carried every thing before. He was madly in love, and all he could do was to say as little, be as brief as possible, for fear of showing her, startling her, perhaps repelling her, for he was intensely conscious of the difference; all his dearly loved, passionately cherished theories of equality could not blind him to the fact that they were not equals—that while he loved her'with a strength that shook his nature with its power, yet the bare thought of touching her, holding her hand, speaking to her on easy and familiar terms, came to him with a sense of impropriety—brought him the conviction, non cum dignus. "Yon were so quiet," said she. "You would hardly speak to me. I was afraid I had offended you." "Not at all," said poor Myles, unable to say more lest he should say too much. " I am sure," pursued Adrienne stopping in her walk and looking earnestly at him— " I am sure yon know that I did not mean to offend you ; and you could not be so hard as to wish me tojkeep silence. You behaved'splendidly. Ifclt that I must thank ymfor it. ;,-:'-.,- It was growing too much for him to stand there quiescent, and hear that voice, which contained all melody for. him, and to see

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, SEPTEMBER 3, 1881

2