PROBATION: A TALE OF THE LANCASHIRE COTTON FAMINE.

By MISS JESSIE FOTHERGILL,

Author of "Ilealey," "Aldyth," "Tho First Violin," etc. ». CHAPTER XXII. Kannst dv do jtiorzens Flammentrieb nioht dampher, So Fodre, l'ugend, diosses Opfer nioht. Towards cieht o'clock on the following evening, Mary Hey wood and Edmund were the only occupants of the kitchen. The lad was somewhat better and less feverish, and Myles had carried him downstairs and laid him upon his old resting place, the chintz covered sofa, under tho window. There he lay, with a shawl thrown across him ; his thin face wasted to sharpness— a waxen pallor on his cheeks and lips ; dark rings under his great bright eyes. His al most transparent hands were stretched out upon the couch before him, and his unread book lay open across his knees. Mary had made tilings as cheerful as sho could, so as not to let Edmund know how bitterly they were pinched in order to five him the things he needed. True, tho lire was smaller than their kitchen fires were wont to bo, and be hind the cupboard doors there was not very much to bring forth for supper; but the place was exquisitely clean and tidy, and so was the girl herself, in her faded gown, and with her pale pathetic face. "Mary," said Edmund breakingasilence, "does Miss Blissct never come hero now?" "Well, it's a good while since hoo were hero ; likely hoo's had summat to do as has kept her away," replied Mary as confidently as she could. "I conno think why hoo ne'er comes. I could jlike to sec her Where's Myles to-ncct?" "Gone to the reading-room, he said. I'm some glad he does go there. Some o' these chaps is hanging about tho live long day, fair as they didn't know what to do with theirsels. I reckon some on 'em will do summat as thoy shouldn't, before long." '' Has Harry Ash worth been here lately ?" pursued Edmund, his thoughts turning to wards his friends, now that ho felt himself somewhat more free from pain and weari ness. "Ay-he's been more than once," re plied Mary, and hcrchceks (lushed, and she gave a great jtinip,ns a knock resounded at that very moment through the house. The coincidence was too remarkable. In a moment, however, she realised that the knock was at the front, not the back door, therefore it could not bo Harry Ash worth who knocked; and secondly, it was not at all like his knock when he did knock. Wondering who thq visitor could be, and casting a critical glance around to see if the kitchen was as neat as it should be, she stepped out through the passage, and went through the ceremony of unlocking and open ing the door. Outside, it was dark. Coming from the light of the kitchen she could not see who stood there, but a voice, which she had al ready heard once, and thought pleasant, inquired: "Does Myles Hey wood live here ?" " He does ; but he's out." "Oh, is he? I'm sorry. I felt surohe would bo in in the evening.-' The visitor still lingered on the doorstep, and inquired again : '' Do you know how loug he will be ?" Mary's sense of hospitality was stronger than even her dread of Myles's displeasure. "Won't you step in a minute, and see if ho comes? It's Mr Mallory, isn't it?" "Yes. I did want to see him very parti cularly." " Appen, if you were to sit down a bit, he might come back soon," suggested Mary, fervently trusting that he would do nothing of the kind : and that Mr Mallory would get tired of waiting as quickly as she knew Myles himself did. With a word of thanks Mr Mallory ac cepted the invitation, and entered the house. A proper attention to established etiquette would have led Mary to usher him into the highly coloured parlour, but the recollec tion that there was no fire there, and that some of the furniture was wanting, over came conventional rules, and he was taken forward into the kitchen. " I hope I am not intruding," lie be^an, SO courteously that all Mary's innate polite ness was roused to action, and his welcome was more effusive than it might otherwise have been. " Eh, dear no ! Please take a seat!" said Mary, pulling up her own rocking-chair. "Me and Edmund was quite alone, and not doin' nowt at all, except talk a bit. Ned, here's Mr Mallory. You've ne'er seen him afore." Edmund had never been aware of Myles's deep antipathy to his youug master; he only knew that his brother had a sort of contempt for his employer, as a useless, highly finished niece of humanity, not good for much in sticli a rough place as Thans hope. He himself was intensely sensitive to refitment and beauty in every shape and form; and as Sebastian was handsome, polished, and refined in an eminent degree, Edmund's eyes rested upon him with a sense of satisfaction and soothed pleasure and delight, and he smiled pleasantly as he took the hand which their visitor extended, saying kindly: "I fear you are a great invalid." "I'm none so strong," said Edmund. "I've been ill, but now I'm better." "I suppose you are Myles Hey wood's brother and sister?" continued Sebastian.

" Ay," said the others, and they smiled— that smile of mingled pride and affection which speaks well for the absent one, and which Sebastian noted directly.

He took a chair by Edmund's sofa, and, turning to Mary said : "I suppose you know your brother has had his name and-yours taken off my books."

'«Ay,'responded Mary, colouring with some embarrassment, while Edmund looked rather anxiously from the one to the other, this being the first he had heard of the cir cumstance.

"Was it your wish to leave my employ ment so suddenly ?" he asked Blowly. "I didn't know—Mylcs did it. He thought it would be for the best, I suppose, sir," stammered the girl. "But you," he persisted gently—"have you such an intense objection to receiving a little assistance in such a time of distress from a—you don't say master here, I no tice—from an employer whom you have served so long and so well as I hear you have done ? I should not hare thought so. You know it is not an ordinary case. It is not as if you or lor any of us here, could have prevented it. There can be shame

" I never thought there was," said Mary ■wondering in her distress what could be the grudge that Myles had against such a mas ter as this. " I fair cried wi' joy when I heard what you was goin' to do ; but when Myles came in, and told me " " But you do not mean that he has for bidden you—that he prevents—it is "

"No 1" said Mary suddenly. " Our Mylcs is not one of that sort, I can tell you, Mr Mallory. He won't take a penny himself— why, 1 don't know. And I saw as it would go hoar to break his heart, to see me and yon lad. eating another man's bread, and him standing by idle. But he said to me, 'Thou'U do what thou'samind to, Molly; it's a great distress, and wo m—mun bo g— great to meet it.' Oh !it were same as if hod said, 'There's nowt for'tbut to cut off my right hand; {jive me th' chopper and let mo do it!' - that it were !" Sho sobbed vehemently once or twice, and Sebastian read the passionate love and devotion she felt for that brother, whom, lie began to think, ho never could conquer. "Ah! that is more like him!" he said warmly. "I thought I was mistaken. And ■will nothing persuade you to accept this help ? It is such a small thing to refuse ; and I do not think it right in you to refuse it. You must think of this brother of yours. He cannot stand tho hardships of this time as Mylcs, and oven you can ; and "

"You are very good—reet down kind you arc j" said Mary, looking at him with grati tude. "I'll say this. We'll hold, out as long as wo can. We mun do that, if we want to think well of ourselves. But I'll come to you when it gets too much. You're reet; I can't sec nowt to be ashamed of in it."

"You promise?"

"jAy, I promise." "That is well, Now, if your brother would come in, I could say what I have to say to him. and " Mary lifted her head. She heard foot steps along the flags at the back, and the tune being whistled which no ono but Myles ever did whistle. She started forward as tho hack door was opened, and exclaimed : "Here's Myles; he's coming now !" "Ah, I'm glad of that," said Sebastian, though he was filly conscious of Mary's discomfited looks, "Now I can speak to him myself." The hack door was closed again; the quick steps grew leisurely; presently the kitchen door also was opened and the voice of Myles was heard, say ing as he entered : "I say, Molly, thou must " He came in, and looked round with n smile, which Hashed out of his face as ho saw who was there. His first impulse was to ask fiercely, "What brings you to my house ?" But Myles had very strongly deve loped the proverbial Lancashire sense of hospitality, and accordingly he suppressed his question, and remained silent until Se bastian offered him his hand, saying cour teously : " I hope you will not think I am intruding. I particularly wished to see you, and your sister was so kind as to ask me to wait a few minutes, in the hope that you would return."

Sebastian had spoken just in time. Myles was assailed on the side of hospitality, politeness to a guest, and other similar feelings. He realised quickly that Sebas tian had not acted as most masters would have dono—sent for him to come and see him—but had come himself to seek him oiit, and now apologised for intruding in the most handsome and ample manner. There was nothing there that even his cold heart could construe into a slight. More over the man was there, under his roof—had been invited there ; and if Molly might have been wiser, the thing was dono, and he.niust act accordingly. He could not look cor dial— the sense of the advantages which the other had over him was too heavily and oppressively present for that; but ho could be civil, lie could speak words' something like welcome. He could even, under the circumstances, accept the hand which Mal lory held out—or rather circumstances did not allow him to refuse it. Accordingly he took the hand, standing very erect, and looking very proud and solemn, while Mary knitted more quickly, as she observed, from her seat in the background, how each man looked straight and steadily into the other's eyes. "Won't you take a seat?" said Myles, handing a chair to Sebastian, and taking one himself. " It's a cold night, and you've had a longish walk." "Thank you. It was on a small matter of business that I called -about your having taken your name from my books."

"Yes," said Mylcs, his eyebrows setting suddenly in a straight line across his brow, and ,his lips in one nearly as straight beneath his moustache.

"It was this. Ido hope you will not think that I come out of any oflieiousness or curiosity, because it is not so. Mr Sut cliffe told me you had left my employ ment. I asked him if he thought you had any other occupation; and he said that, as far as ho know, you had not. So I concluded whether rightly or not, that your reason for leaving was that the factory was closed, and you would not accept assistance without working for it. Was I right ?" "Yes," said Myles concisely. "I know that employment, especially remunerative employment, is not easy to find in these bad times, and that you might not soon find anything to do; so I merely called to say that I know of two situations, for cither "of which you would be suited, and if you would like me to use my influ ence to get you either of them, I shall be glad to do so. You must not think that I meant anything else." "You are very kind," said Myles, in the same constrained and colourless voice, which belied his contracted brows and the fiery flash of his eyes beneath them—"very kind; but Ido not require any assistance, thank you." The .manner and the tone were such Sebastian felt he could not, after what he had said, urge his offer any further. But the desire, which he constantly felt when with Myles, to gain his esteem and win his confidence, rushed more strongly over him than ever before. He saw in the young man so much that was noble, so much that was good,_so much that he, in his quiet reserved way, intensely prized. Sebastian had a strong though se cret fdesire to be much loved, to greatly influence certain individuals. He felt very 3trongly that where Myles Heywood loved or admired, it would be with a passionate, whole-hearted devotion which would go all lengths; and he desired greatly to see some other expression light those sombre moody eyes when they looked at him; to compel that right hand to stretch itself toyards him in a genial spontaneous clasp of friend ship and regard. Was it. possible that he who before now had won hearts, both of men and women; he who had inspired that fitful, capricious artist, Hugo, with a passionate love and devotion; he who had seen Adrienne Blis set's quiet eyes well over with something more than gratitude ;he who felt within him the potentiality to subdue that fiery hearted Helena, did he but choose to give his mind to the task, and bring her to his feet with a devotion as intense as her pro sent half-assumed scorn—was it possible that he was to be baffled by a young un cultivated, untutored, unsophisticated arti san, who could continue to resist, defy, and scorn him, in spite of all his efforts to the contrary ? Was it possible that this plain spoken Mylcs Heywood, with nothing on his side but his prejudices, his pride, and his love, could continue to hold Sebastian Mallory at arm's length, when he really set his whole battery of persuasion to work upon him ? The idea was a galling one. He did not like effusiveness, but he did like devo

tlon very much. He hated a display of power; but the power itself he loved dearly. Mylcs, in his present attitude, represented a defiant obstacle which must be overcome. But how?

Mary hero afforded him unconsciously a little assistance by saying, in a tearful voice :

. " Eh, Myles, do think about it! Kemom ber how badly off we are. It's not for my sel', it's for Edmund and thee. I canna bear to think p' thee bein' so pulled down and troubled wi' such things." Thou'rt, too good for it." "Molly lass, don't make it worse for me !" said Myles, with a reproachful look; and Mary was silenced, as Sebastian saw.

She sat down in a rocking chair and cried quietly, wiping her eyes at intervals, but sue said no more. Myles turned his back upon her, not wishing to see her distress. Sebastian had also stood up. The man's pride was stiffcr than oven he had supposed, and his desire to bend it became propor tionately .greater.

" I am very sorry you will not let mo do anything," he said. " You are quite mis taken in thinking there could be any degra dation in it."

" I never said I did think so," interposed Myles.

" You arc not without ambition," pursued Sebastian, fixing lus eyes upon. Myles with conviction, and noting the answering flush in his face, though his eyes remained down cast. "No man who is worth anything is without ambition. Of course it would be a struggle ; but then you are one of the right kind to struggle—you like it. A few years' absence from England, a few years' hard work in a post for which you would be well suited, and you might return hero, if you liked, a different man, ifi a different posi tion, able to do and get pretty much what you liked. Kemember, to a man of cou rage, who has made a mark, ;«o^ things that he wishes for stand open. Is this nothing to you ? Do you prefer remaining shut up in Thaiishopc", with your own prospects and the prospects of your fellow-workmen no better than they are ? I cannot believe it of you."

Almost unconsciously, Sebastian half cast aside the mask of indifference, and was speaking nearly as eagerly as he felt. He had stepped up to Myles, and laid his hand upon his arm. Their eyes met. Myles's very soul had been stirred by the words he had heard.

They had touched the very well-spring of his present wishes and desires, the long ing which had grown and intensified with his love and his sense of its utter helpless ness. To leave his place—go away to some other spot, where there would be scope for hard work, mental and bodily—work that would absorb his energies. There was no thing.he desired more than such work. His enforced idleness was absolutely hideous to him. Out of England, he might advance, rise; Sebastian, he knew, was not wout to speak rashly or unadvisedly on such mat ters, but was given to measuring his words. Ho might return an altered man, well off, perhaps,'or at least with the means of be coming well off; why, he might (it all seemed to flash in a second through his mind)—he might go at last and seek Ad rienne—and hear that she was Sebastian Mallory's wife. And then the acceptance of Sebastian Mallory's assistance would have caused his last state to be worse than his first. He would have stooped, not to con quer, but to be forestalled, defeated, humi liated, and all the riches, and all the position that the world could give, would not res tore his hopes and hia lost self-respect. Witha short, sardonic, miserable laugh, he jerked his arm from Sebastian's hand, and said al most angrily :

"It is of no use,. You will never per suade me to that. It is wasted breath to try it."

Sebastian felt an absolute thrill of vexa tion and mortification ; a thrill so strong as to surprise himself. " What makes you so obstinate !" he un warily exclaimed. "Is it some personal reason ?"

"Yes," answered Myles, looking him directly in the eyes. "It is."

Sebastian's lips were parted to speak, but ho could not utter the words he intended to say. He was silent, with a disagreeable, discomfiting sense that ho was baffled and defeated. They were all silent, till Sebas tian said:

" Well, since you will not, you will not. But I think you are mistaken in your course; and, what is more, I think you will repent it before long. If you do, ifyoushould come to change your mind, let me know. I have no wish to take my word back, but shall always be ready to abide by it." ■

Myles smiled, almost scornfully, as he bowed his head slightly and said : "Thank you." In liis inmost heart he was thinking he would rather die than place himself under obligations to his rival, whose full formida bleness he had only realised to-night. There was, ho confessed it fully and frankly to himself, something extremely attractive about the grace and courtesy of Sebastian, but the.most dangerous quality was the power which made, itself distinctly visible beneath the polish—a power which forced the observer, however reluctantly, to respect as well as admire. If he, the unwilling and prejudiced, felt these things so strongly, how much more must others, already pre judiced in his favour, exptrienee it? So much the more reason why he, the plain and unadorned, should keep himself to himself, follow his own path, and not ape qualities different from his own. But he had ceased to bear any ill-will to Sebastian. The latter did not know how far lid had advanced in the very moment in which he seemed to have receded.

"I will not intrude upon you any longer," said he. '' You bear no resentment, I trust, but understand my motives ?"

" I bear no resentment at all," said poor Myles, putting his hand without hesitation into that held out to Mm. "If I have been rather rough, I beg your pardon. It is my way. I meant no incivility." " I am sure of it. Good night," he added, turning to Edmund. "Good night, Miss Hey wood."

" Good night,sir,"saidMary,lookingtear fully xip as Sebastian followed Myles from the room. She heard the door open and shut, and the stcp3 of the unwonted visitor going away. Then Myles returned to the kitchen.

Edmund was tired. Myles helped him upstairs, and came down again. They scarcely spoke. Mary uttered no reproach, and he offered no apology; but when she got up to go to bed, he kissed her tenderly, saying: "Don't think too hardly of me, Molly. I can't do otherwise and be an honest man at the same time." .

"I'm none thinking of blaming thee, lad," said Mary, escaping from him, and going upstairs. He remained there a long time, brooding •over the embers of the fire, and thinking, if only things had been different! And as he thought, a vision rose before him of that Sunday afternoon when he had so nearly betrayed himself, and he remembered Adrienne's words :

"If I loved that man, and he loved me, and asked me to be his wife, I would say yes; and I would love him and serve him as long as I lived." "Ah, my darling!" his heart cried withinhim, in a kind of anguish, "but you

dou't love'me; aud if you did, I should not be worthy of you, if I did what was wrong to win you." No doubt he took a wild, fantastic, mis taken view of things ; but to hip it was much more real than if the most accom plished logician had argued it out for him, and proved it to bo founded on the .purest and most solidly reasonable basis. CHAPTER XXIII. COMBINATION Y. STARVATION. For the space of some six weeks—that is from early March to the middle of April— Adricnne.Helena, Mr Sutcliffc,Hueo, Sebas tian, and others who worked with them or under them, had toiled hard at the schools of both kinds wblch Mr Mallory had opened in connection with his relief system. At first considerable difficulties were naturally ex perienced ; some of the workpeople grumbled bitterly at being obliged to "go to school again," as the condition of re i coiving a sum which appeared to them small indeed after the abundant wages they had for years been earning ; but the tact and kindness of the three principals, Sebastian, Adrienne, and good little Mr Sutcliffe, and the hearty manner in which they were , backed up by their subordinates, soon worked wonders. Ere long the workpeople themselves discovered-how much better off they were than those of their friends whose masters had not seen fit to provide for them, and who were just then groaning under the obnoxious "labour test, as it was called, which roused so much gall and bitterness before the sewing and educational schools were fairly started. Learning to make clothes, and reading, writing, and arithmetic, were felt to be decidedly more distinguished and elevating employments than stone breaking or road making, and were, more over, much better adapted to the lissom fingers and to the physique, accustomed to sedentary labour in a high temperature, of the operatives. By degrees they fell into their places. They felt that they were known and expected, and missed if they did not come at the appointed time. The great warehouse was warmed and lighted, and threw open its doors hospitably wide to receive them. "Mallory's Schools" were known all over the town, and those who attended them were envied by those who did not.

For the principal the task was, as Sebastian had told Adrienne, no joke. It was continuous, dry drudgery. The routine was monotonous, and the discipline strict; but the master and head of it was the first to adhere unswervingly to every rule laid down, and his coadjutors folliowed him with unhesitating obedience. Mr Blisset re ceived more kisses and thanks from his niece than she had ever bestowed before— kisses and thanks for what she called his goodness in sparing her to help the poor people in their great distress. She was with him much less than usual, and perhaps did not therefore notice so much his pallor and weakness, and the strength which was failing in every way. He, for some reason, withheld the truth from her, and did not tell her that he felt almost at the end of his weary, dismal pilgrimage. It was only to Sebastian that he spoke about that—Sebas tian, who had become the^trusted friend of the poor, lonely man. Adrienne and Helena worked heartily, hand in hand. That was no time for petty bickerings and jealousies. Even sectarians forgot their differences in the imperative necessity for administering to the great need and woe of the people. In. working hours Adrienne forgot entirely who Helena was ; and knew her only as a quick, bright, kind hearted girl, to whom no trouble was too great, and no task too hard. It was not quite the same with Helena. She had divined, by some subtle meana—herself scarce knew how —that Adrienne was no other than " the nicest girl I ever knew," and Miss Spenceley's eyes grew intensely critical. Every word, every gesture and action of her coadjutor was weighed in a nice balance, and so far had not been found wanting. Helena herself was, without knowing it, changing rapidly. Despite a certain vague disquietude of heart, she was happier than she had ever been in her life before. She threw herself into her new work with her characteristic energy and vehemence, and her contact with life, and some of its sternest lessons, was rubbing down her preconceived extravagances of expression, though she still, in word and theory, cherished them as fondly as ever. But it was impossible that one of her in tensely sensitive and receptive mind could behold what she daily did, of sorrow and pain, of ignorance and helplessness, and remain the same. She saw into depths in this our life of which she had never dreamed and which Laura Merreweather's philosophy passed over entirely. It has been acknowledged on all sides that the benefits, at that time, were not only on one side. It was not only the rough, factory girls who came to learn, but also the delicate ladies who gave up time and comfort and their best energies to teach, who profited by the" intercourse. In the sad and degrading spectacle of the spring of 1868. the sweet lessons learned and taught in that season of 1862 seem almost to have been forgotten and obliterated. Many a benighted girl—many an uneducated, igno rant matron, roused to her toil at half-past five in the morning, and prevented by its long monotony from acquiring any domestic grace, learnt almost her first notions* of making home happy and comfortable in the schools that were set upinthe "panic."

Then in the woe of the poor, and the sympathy of the rich, it almost seemed as if the great black frowning barriers of caste had been overthrown ; but the division of classes, the opposition between master and man, is a plant of sturdy growth, and strikes its roots deep and far under the earth. Now, sixteen years later, comes a strike almost without parallel for bitterness and unyielding stubbornnesss on either side ; a strike accompanied by rioting and mob rule, broken windows, houses sacked, men as saulted, women and children threatened, and the necessity for a strong military force to preserve even the outward semblance of order ; and this, on the identical ground where, during the cotton famine; the sore distress was most nobly borne, and most generously relieved. These things make a riddle hard to read.

Adrienne and- Helena found both their mental and physical energies taxed to the utmost by the work they had undertaken, but neither had any thought of giving up. With Adrienne it was a labour of calm, affectionate duty; she went to it with an enlightened sense of her own responsibilities and a full comprehension of the gravity of the crisis. With Helena it was something quite different; she worked eagerly, till she was wearied, and scarcely knew why she did. it. Of course she was sorry for the poor people, and pitied them in their present condition, and was anxious to keep them ; strained every nerve to do her work; but she thought more about Adrienne Blisset and Sebastian Mallory than all about the poor people in Thanshope. She was changing rapidly, without knowing it. In the presence of this great urgent need, and of her own deeper emotions, all the flimsy theories of the past were being utterly undermined, though outwardly towering as high and as fair as ever. She was nonappier in her home relations than before. Sebastian's conduct was condemned there by her fatherand brother. She knew ihat^t was only because of Sebastian's

wealth, and Mrs Mallory's high position in. the town, that she was allowed to participate in what was called the " madness " or Mr Mallory. Fool and madman were the mildest words ra the vocabulary of the Spenceley men by which to describe Sebastian's course. It was wrong at\d iniquitous in him, they said, to set such an example, as ..if every millowner in Thanshope could be expected to support Ids hands while this confounded war lasted.

"Every millowner—no!" said Helena, with flashing eyes. "So many of them are too poor. They have not the means ; but if all those who could afford it did so it would only be their duty—their bare duty, and there would, not be so many begging letters in the papers, asking for help for the ripest county in the richest country in the world."

She was informed that she knew nothing about it, and it was only to keep her out .of some other mischief that she • was allowed to have anything to do with such folly. (" And," she thought .to herself, with a hard smile, "because Sebastian Mallory is rich and influential, and I see him every day there.")

The conversation turned to Helena's coming birthday, when she would attain her majority, and great festivities would be the order of the day, With tears in her eyes, she took the opportunity to implore her father to give up the ball which would cost so much money, and to give her half, nay, a quarter of the sum he intended to spend upon it, that she might give it to Miss Blisset or Mr Mallory and have it used for relief purposes ; bnt the request was pe remptorily refused, and she was told, in oracular language, that she did not know what was good for either herself or the workpeople. Moreover, she was informed, it was all very well for a pretty girl to play at women's rights, but that a daughter' was expected to obey her father ; and the regal Fred remarked that a fool and. her money were soon parted, and he would back H,elena for making ducks and drakes of any property she might ever have, if it were not pretty tightly tied up. "I suppose it is only finished gentlerilan like yourself who know how to make proper use of their money and their time," said Helena, turning upon him bitterly. "1 can tell you the whole town will cry with shame on both of you—the richest men in it, and you have scarcely subscribed five pounds to keep your own workpeople from starving." ' " I didn't become the richest man in Thanshope by pouring my money into my workpeople's pockets," said Mr Spenceley grimly. And Helena, with a passionate "Psha!" rushed from the room, drawing on her gloves as she went forth to her afternoon, labours at the school.

This was in the middle of March, and as she came up the cinderypath leading to the little ante-room which bebastian and his staff were in the habit of using as an office, he and Miss Blisset sat at the window watching her approach. "What a lovely, graceful creature she is t" said Adrienne admiringly, as the tall, supple figure of the girl came swiftly up the walk. "I often wonder how she can be the child of such parents." " There is some southern impetuoushess in her nature," he replied, " and a capa city for southern rages too," lie added watching her and smiling. " Look at her now, Miss Blisset, Do you see that frown, and how her eyes are flashing, and her lips set ?"

"Yes, I do; but that is a very unusual expression with her. I wonder what is the matter with her."

Here Helena came in, somewhat in the' whirlwind style; her tall figure erect— her silken skirts sweeping angrily about her.

"You look 'annoyed, Miss Spenceley," said Adrienne, looking up from where she sat, composed and cool. " Annoyed!" repeated Helena, whose anger and mortification had been aug menting all the time since she bad left her home, and whose voice vibrated ; " they tell me on all sides that my father is the richest man in Thanshope, and that I should have more money than I know what to do with— some time. Some time, indeed ! And I cannot get five pounds now.to help people with. I've given away all my money. I have just half-a-crown in the world, and I can't get any more for a month. Do you call that the proper way to treat a woman who will be responsible for live thousand a year—some time ? My father said I should. Do you call that the right means to' accustom her to the duties of her posi tion ?"

She had turned suddenly and almost fiercely to Sebastian.

"Not at all," said he, at once, perceiving that her lips quivered, and that she was divided between tears of mortification and flames of anger. '• Not at all; but, my dear Miss Spenceley, so long as we jhave your services, the money which you do or do not contribute is not of the very least conse quence." . "Don'tsay.that tome !" she exclaimefl excitedly. " What is the use ?My servicei3 are nothing; I can do nothing."

" Indeed, I don't know what I should do without you," said Adrienne. '"You can. influence these girls and women sometimes, when I can make nothing of them. You can make them laugh heartily when all my efforts can only extort a solemn stare from them."

" Yon must not talk of going," chimed in Sebastian. "It is your countenance alone which reconciles my mother to the under taking. And if you did not come," he addedsmiling, "I don't believe Hugo would have anything to say to it; and ne is in valuable to me amongst the- boys. For heaven's sake, don't desert us !"

Helena, with downcast eyes, was taking off her "loves, Her cheek was flushed, and she smiled a little, triumphantly. • " Girls can do something, then, after all," said she.

" Have I not two living and bright proofs of the fact before me now ?" lie replied, looking from one to another. " AH; yes!" said Helena coolly, while the flush died from her cheek, and the j smile faded from her lips. "Would you mind helping me off with my mantle ? Thanks. There comes Hugo yon Birkenan, and there is our first batch of girls, Miss _ Blisset. What is the programme for this after noon !"

She was all business now; had tied on a great holland apron, studded with .baggy looking pockets, and slung a huge pair of scissors by a string around her slim waist. Adrienne was accoutred in a' similar manner. Helena stopped some of the girls who were coming in, to make them carry a pile of calico to the workroom. Eaising his hat, Sebastian left them to their labours, and joined Hugo outside. Half of the great warehouse had been temporarily cleared, and accomodated with benches and half-a-dozen huge deal tables. This afternoon was to be a "cutting out" lesson—a lesson which, sooth to say, Helena had had to learn herself for the occasion, from her mother. The two young ladies, with some half dozen others, who rapidly followed on Helena's steps, each took a class and began their instructions, the women and' girls standing round}- and many a dozen of them receiving their very first impression as to the practical construction of the clothes they wore. The directions

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, OCTOBER 29, 1881

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