THE WEIRD SISTERS.

A ROMANCE.

Btr RICHARD DOWIiING,

author or " The Mystkby of Kiixard,

:)o(: CHAPTER XVII,

PART II :THE TOWERS § SILENCE

CHAPTER II

THE READIX3 OF THE WILL.

" Now, Maud darling, do try to bear up, Drink this wine to give you strength. Come, they are all waiting for us in the library. Drink this for my sake. Well, halt; drink half o£ it for my sake, my dear, dear child. It ,wa3 your father's direct order the will should be read and you should be present, Mr Shaw tells me this is not usual, but must bs done."

" 1 cannot drink the wine. It will not take long, I suppose i"

Mr Grey says that it is not likely to take more than a quarter of an hour. The will is very short.

" Is Mr Grey in the library f

" Yes, dear."

"Please, put away that wine; I am ready to go now. You will come with me ?"

"Of course, Maud. My place ia at your side. pTor darling."

Mrs Grant's words touched some chord in the girl's heart, and she burst into tear?, crying : " Oh, Mrs Grant, I never felt lonely be fore. I don't know wbat I should do only tor you and Mr Grey." " Thank you, love. You know I'll stay with you all my life. I have no one of my own to live for ; they are all gone. I have no father or mother, or brother or sister, or husband or child. I am as lonely as you, Maud, only you have lost a father and this home, and by and by you will marry, and huvd a new home, a husband, and. little ones at your knee ; but for me the world is over. Every day I live keeps me further off from my husband ; every day you live brings you nearer to yours. Ah, Maud, women have but poor lives of it, and the poor childless widow ia worse than the dead." She burst into tears.

" Mrs Grant," cried the girl, throwing her arms round the woman, " pray, pray forgive me! 1 have been cruelly selfish, Hunting only of my own sorrow and never of yours. JLJear Mrs Grant, do forgive my selfishness !"

The widow wound her arms around the weeping girl, and crushing bacfc her own grief, said passionately : " Selfish, Maud ! you selfish ! Why, my darling never thinks there is such a person as herself until she finds she can be of use to some oae. No, love, not selfish. There, love, love, don't cry: we shall be the best of friends all our lives. We are both friendless and alone ; that is all the more reason why we should be good friends all our lives, Maud darling' I'll never leave you if you will let me stay. There now, there's a dear child ; dry your eyes and drink the wine, and let us go and get this matter over.'' " Put away the wine ;I am ready. We shall never, never part, Mrs Grant, dear."

The two left the little drawing-ronm. Mrs Grant put one arm affectionately round the girl's waist; Maud held one of Mrs Grant's hands in hers,

As they drew near the library-door they found Mr Grey awaiting them in the pas sage. Placing himself on her right side, he offered her his arm. Mrs Grant dropped to the rear, aari. preserving this order, they reached the library-dpor.

Here Mr Grey paused for a moment, and said to his partner in a low voice : "The strange gentleman who would not give his name is within. He says he has authority to be present. He may be a solicitor on behalf of some 01 the smaller legatees, Ido uot wish to be rude to him or to say he must give me his authority. He says he will apeak to you some time to day. Do you wish me to tell him to go, or dc you prefer that I should merely request him to give up all hope of an iuterview to day V"

" I cannot, I cannot see hirr," cried the girl, clinging to his arm, and looking up appealingly into his face. " Protect her," he thought, " against this unknown man, who seems to threaten my safety and her peace—of course I shall. This ia the first time she has sought my protectioa, and by a fortunate chance it ia agauist one whom I have reason to dislike. How lucky ! How lucky I have been in everything connected with this Castle—about the will, about the old man's illness, about the con fidence i All has turned out exactly as I wished. Her arm is now in mine. She is calling out to me for help. X feel already as if I uad won her, as it she leaned jpon my arm as my—wife."

Xheu he whispered to her,

" Iteat assured this man shall not in tt ude upon you. If he keep 3 quiet he may remain until the will has been read. Tnen I shall be officially installed as your guar dian, Miss Midharst, and I shall know how to act towards liimifhe dares to interfere with you."

Orawirjg himself up to his full height, he walked slowly into the library with Miss ftiidharat on bis arm, and Mm Grant following a few paces behind. His face was ctiim and firm; in his tread and gait there was conscious power, tie felt he could have faced any danger then. She, uponwho.se gooitegard towards him and final acceptance of him as a suitor all depended, hun<; on his arm and clung to iiim for protection. The chaoca tli it the Tower of Silence would in his lifetime giva up its secret, was one to a million. He had a single reasonable caiise for dread, and that was leat she, Maud Midharst, might turn away from him—might finally reject him. With her arm on his, and the memory ot her confiding glance, he lit like a great captain, who, having in secret prepared a crushing attacK, throws xip his head and pants at hearing the great l>;s of the signal-t;un which is to shake out tlie standards and let loose the thunders of prodigious war.

Ko more than a dozen people were present. The sorvants stood at the end of the room remotest from the one lar^e ■window.

With its back to the window, at the head of the table, was the baronet's great straight backed oak chair, empty. Mr Grey led Miss Midharat to a chair on the right of this. As she moved up through the room, half a dozen gentlemen, seated round the room and at the table, rose and bowed. The stranger, whose chair was at the foot of the table, rose with the rest, and bowed more profoundly than any of the others.

Aa soon as Miss Midharst was seated, Mr Grey crossed at the back of the vacant chair and sat down upon the left of it. Upon Grey's left sat Mr Shaw, the deceased baronet's lawyer. On Miss Midharst's right nat Mrs Grant. Dr. Hardy, who at tended the funeral, was present by particular request. The old lawyer, whose hands were tremulous, closed his eyes up firmly Hist, pulled hia white whiskers, shook his ■white hair, and, looking at Grey, demanded »o a feeble, shaky voice :

"is everything now ready tor rcuding the last will and testament of Sir Alexander Midharst, deceased, as by him desired ? ' For a moment thera was no reply. Then Grey cleared his throat and said, in .-oft gentle accents :

"As the heir to the baronetcy and propeity did not reply to my notification of the late Sir Alexander's death, and there fore was not to be here at the reading of the will, or represented by a solicitor, he b ;ing, I understand, iv E^ypt, I have taken it upon myself to nominate a solicitor to be present on his part. I have therefore asked Mr Barrington to be good enough to favour us with his presence, and watch the interests of the heir,"

An excessively fat and prosperous-looking younn man stood up and bowed deeply all round, saying, in a rich oily voice : "I am proud to represent, the hair to this noble house, this lordly property, and the glorous family of Midhar.it."

Having bowed all round again, he sat down.

l'hen Mr Shaw opened tha will, and began reading it in a weak and quavering voice.

The will was brief, and the language straightforward and plain.

The baronet left small legacies to his servants, and expressed a desire that Michael might remain in his daughter's service uutil he chose to retire, upon which he was to receive an annuity of forty pounds a year, in addition to tha five Hundred pounds, payable within one year from the opening of the will.

The few other servants kept by the baronet were left legacies on this scale iv proportion to their positions. To Mrs Grant he left a thousand pounds, coupled with a request that she would continue to stay as .long Miss Mldharst mieht wish.

Upon hearing this; Mrs Grant wepf, and put her hand on the girl's hand and caught the hand, and looked at the girl with eyes that swore, "Never, never, will I leave you while I live."

To Or. bardy he left two hundred and fifty, and to each of the other two phy sicians who had attended, one hundred pounds over and above their proper fees. To Mr Shaw he bequeathed five hundred pounds over and above.his proper fees, and expressed a hope that any legal business which had to be done in connection with his will, his daughter, or the money, would be intrusted to Mr Shaw.

To Henry Walter Grey he bequeathed the gross snni ot five thousand pounds, over and above all his just claims against the estate. Two thousand five hundred of this was to be paid ■within twelve months of the opening of the will, and the other two thousand 'five hundred upon the expi ration of Grey's guardianship of the testa tor's fortune in the past, and in conßidera tion of the duties and obligations imposed upon the legatee by the will. The next clause announced that he left and desired and bequeathed to his daughter Maud, absolutely and for ever, the residue of vis property, of all kinds, sorts, and descrip tions whatever, subject to the bequests above mentioned; and the payments of all juat debts and demands for which the testa tor was liable at the time of his death ; and the cost of bis funeral, which latter he desired to be simple and unostentatious, a.nd yet not unbecoming the house of which he was head. The residue was not to be paid over to the legatee, but held in trust tor her until she had attained the full age of twenty-two ; but, married or single, to her the residue was to go when she attained her twenty-second year. With regard to her marriage, tne testator would mike no restrictions. He felt sure bis daughter would make no unworthy selection, and she would remember thdt although the title and estates were passing away to a younger branch of the family, .she was the only representitive of the elder brand now sur viving. The testator :desirsd that, should she not marry before her twenty-second year, .she should lean upon her guardian for advice at any time later than her twenty-second year. Tho testator desired it to be clearly understood that the guardian's power extended absolutely only to the property of the residuary lega tee ; and that she, being at the time of executing this will and testament, -full twenty years of age. in all her personal movements, and in tbe marrying or not marrying;, or in the choice of a husband, was free from the greetings of these presents. That is to say, the guardianship of the residuary legatee, as constituted herein, was that of adminis tering her fortune, and of looking after her welfare, without, except in the matter of the property, power of constraint or inter ference ia matters personal to the residuary legatee. The testator, however, reposed the most unlimited confidence in the guar dian, and advised the residuary legatee to be largely guided In matters personal by advice oftthe aforesaid guardian.

Following this paragraph came one re citing the property of the deceased man, the most important passage of it being this :

" And such Consols as may be found registered in my name in the books of the Bank ot England, an account of which, and the Consols themselves, are in the custody of Henry Walter Grey aforenamed, to the valua at this date of five hundred and fifty thousand pounds Stirling."

Then came the final paragraph : " And I hereby elect and appoint Henry Walter Grey, ot the Manor House, Dane ford, banker (hereinbefore described as Henry Walter Grey), executor and trustee to this my last will and testament, to hold authority, and to act in all matters connected with my property at his own sufficient discretion, with the limitations herein aforesaid. And I hereby elect arid appoint the same Henry Walter Grny, of the Manor House, Daneford, banker, to be and to act^as the sole guardian, with the limitations hereinbefore set forth, of my only daughter Maud, hereinbefore described as of the Castle o£ WarfiDger, the residuary legatee in this ray last will and testament! And to the aforesaid Henry Walter Grey I leave the safe gnarain;: of mv daughter's fortune, and the care of her orphanhood. I leave to his charge the saving of half a lifetime, and the last of a noble house. I pray that, as Henry Walter Grey may do by them and me, the God Almighty may d.o by him. Amen."

The old solicitor then read out the formal ending of the will, looked up, shut his eyes, and said :

" That 13 the only will which has been found o! the late Sir Alexander Midharat, Baronet, of Warfinger Castle."

He opened his eyes for a moment, and then shut them again, adding while they were closed :

" The will ia in my handwriting. I drew it at the late baronet's (dictation, using almost hia identical words."

He turned over the document and scrutinised it closely.

" There is no codicil or addition of any kind," bowing to Miss Midharat.

There was a moment's silence, during which every one present looked down. It was only by the most powerful effort Grey could prevent himself from shouting aloud under the intolerable relief. Al though he had expected the •will to be in some such terms, he could scarcely believe that, after his days!and nights of agonised dread, all had come right. He felt like one who, after long durance in a dim and choking earn, is lifted into a

sunlit flowery valley, over which larks ai« singing, and through which flows a bright silver stream, along which he may wandsr with unquestioned feet,

Now all was secure. This girl and hnr whole fortune had, within the past half hour, been signed and sealed into his pos session. True', he had no control over her personal actions. But he soon should have control, the most potent of all—the control of_ husband over wife. According to the will, she might marry as soon as she pleased. Thera was nothing now in the world to prevent her being his wife ia twelve months. ,

Nothing to interfere with [his marrying this girl and blotting out tha trace of his crime. Already she liked him. As they came into the room to hear that will read, by which he became sole executor, trustee, and guardian, did she not lean on him ? Already she liked him. Soon 3he should love him. Soon she shonld marry him. Considering her position, the world would of her marrying; for she had no one to protect her but a guardian, no kin near enough to take any interest in her. In her solitary situation, every odo would approve of her marrying soon. There wa* a rustle, and all the men ro^e to their feet upon perceiving Miss Midharst in the act of rising. Grey looked across for a moment at her, as she stood upon the right hand of the vacant chair.

"She mine!" he thought. "She will he niy salvition ! There is nothing now to keep ker from me ! .Nothing between her and me !"

"Mil's Midbarst," said a deep grave voice at the other side of the table, " I fear there is no one here who can introduce me to you, so that I shall be obliged to Introduce myself." Grey started, and looking across the table, saw the stranger advancing towards Mias Midharst.

The banker threw one glance around, by which he plainly told the other men that he intended resenting so unwarrant able an intrusion on the grief ana privacy of the occasion. All his fears had vanished into air. The only feeling he now expe rienced was that a pushing stranger was now seeking to occupy the unwilling atten tion of ;his legally constituted ward, and the>roman who was to be his wife.

Grey crossed the room rapidly at the back of the vacant chair, and placing him self beside Miss Midharst, bowed and offered her his arm.

She took it, and for a second no one moved.

Maud looked up (and saw in front ot her a tall, broad, dark-visaged, black-haired, sacl-featured man, with dark and dreamy eyes.

She shrank back slightly, and clung to the stalwart arm on which her small white hand lav.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the banker blandly. " I shall be happy to place myself at your disposal when 1 have led Mias Midharst to her private apart ment. May I request you to take a seat until then?"

" Thank yon, sir. Your name is Grey." "It i?. And as you have heard the will, you know I am in a position to tell you that anything you have to say to Miss Midiiur.it may, underpresent circumstances, be more reasonably said to me." The banker advanced his foot, and Maud, still clinging to him, moved to so.

Again the stranger ■■• ■ ■ ; -v to Miss Midharst. It was itn [>«.■,■ ~ , . .iout down right rudeness, for Grey to move until the stranger should have recovered an erect at titude, as evidently there was something else he wished to say. "Miss Midharst." at last the stranger said. "I am William Midharst, your cousin :"' he held out his hand to her.

" Xhe new baronet!" snurraured the servants, in whispers. All the men looked keenly at the tall dark young man, who with a trrave smiie stood holding out a brown right hand to the fair, f-hriakiDg, timid, pale, beautiful girl. She took her white trembling hand oft' the banker's arm and held it out to him, She was cold and trembling, and she felt aa though she would faint.

He took the fingera of her white hand respectfully between the fingers and thumb of hia own brown hand, and bending low with the homage of a chivalric age, and the simple sincerity of our own, kissed the white hand he held. Then, inclining hia head towards the banker, he said gravely : " Will, you sir, upon this occasion of my fir9t meeting my cousin, forego your privi lege, and allow me to take her to her apart ment ?"

The mind of the banker was dazed and paralysed, and in ailence he signified his assent.

Placing the hand oa the black sleeve his left arm, Sir William Midharat, of War finger Castle, led his orphan cousin Maud down the room, and through the doorway Aa they disappeared Grey's faca1 shrivelled up. Fortunately, for him all pre sent were too much occupied with the now baronets arrival to notico him.

The whole tabric of Grey's rearing seemed to topple over and tumble into dust as these two b'gnres went through the doorway. He wag guardian it was true, but hia power did not extend to his forbid ding her to take that arm, to go through that doorway with that young man, to walk up to the altar-rails with any man whatever.

" Idiot that you nave been, Alexander Midharst : you deserve nothing better than that your daughter's fortune should be lo3t !"

Then he stood a long time immovable.

At last the thought of the stake he had put down in, this game rushed in upon his mind, and he was once more on the top of the Tower of Silence, under the dull sky with the Dea'i.

He now stood in the awful solitude of blood. He strode on through a lealm .jf endiesa silence aud limitless jand. For him there could never be any change here ; always that maddening silence—always those unconquerable leagues of sand. .Never any variety except

±Ie suddenly started and shouted. There had been a change in the monotony; tor over his shoulder-not the one at -which Maud had stood—over the right shoulder, suddenly peered the face of his murdered victim.

Witti a pang of apprehension, he became alive to bis situation, and looked suddenly round. He was alone. All the others had left, and it was growing dark.

CHAPTER 111,

"COUSIN MAUD " "NO; MAUD." When the young baronet reached the corridor, he saidjia a'grave sedate voice : " I kuew your name was Maud; aad I knew your poor father did not like me. I am sure you will believe me when I tell you I never saw him ia all my life, never saw you until to-day, and never gave him any reason I know of to dislike me. It so happened 1 was heir to the property ; it so happened I was poor. 1 could not help the former; I tried to do all I could to help the latter, and took an appointment in Egypt. It was such an appointment as a gentleman might take. You, Cousin Maud, had no feeling against me because I happened to be next to the title and estates ?"

" Oh, no," answered the girl quickly, in a tremulous half-frightened voice, without looking up.

" And now tbat I have come to see you, oousin, you have no feeling against me J"

" Not tho least Why should I V " When you did not know who I was, you refused to see me to-day. Wow that you know I am your cousin, the nearest re lative you have on earth, will you do me a favour V

" If I can, 1 will." " Walk with me a while in the grounds ; I have much to say to you. The air will do you good, and what I have to say will keep your mind off the ea<i business of to-day. Grant me this favour, if you do not feel too weak."

" I do not feel weak ; only—only con fused and frightened. I will go with you."

They had both hilted at the foot of the grand -staircase. She looked up into his nice as spoke. She had never seen one of ber house but her fathar before. It was strange to think this man should be so unlike her father and yet related to her. Ho spoke as if be meant to be kind, and in any case sho ought not to refuse ao slight a favour to the only member of her father's family now living, as a child she had stood in mortal terror of this cousin— this cousin whom her father never lost an opportunity ot abasing. lint when she had grown older, she knew the young man did uot, becau'e ho happaued to be heir presumptive to the property and title, deserve on that account solely to be vili fied. Her father had always led ber to think that towards ber thi* cousiu Wil liam would behave brutally, simply becnuse her father had racked the property to the very uttermost penny. It had seemed natural that the next tenant for life would regard the act of her father with strong resentment; and, taking into account the object for which the property had been swept clean, she felt William Midharst, when he came to be Sir William, could not look on her in a friendly spirit. But now that the worst had arrived, and he as a factor in the worst, it did not seem that he should have received such elaborate consideration, or have been the cause of any great dread. He was dark aud gloomy-looking, but then he had been very polite.

While thoughts were jostling one an other in Maud Midharat's head, she was in her owa room, preparing for that stroll with her cousin. The young baronet was walking softly up and down the gieat hall, and Wat Grey was standing trans. fixed by a new terror in the library the two young people had just left.

Presently Maud came down the great staircase. The young baronet looked up and saw a sweet, white, childish face, full of sadness in the midst of crape, and be neath that face a lithe graceful figure, moving as though the ground had nothing to do with her movements, her step wa3 so free and light. " My cousin Mand," thought the young man, '• is too fair for health. Little cousin Maud—lonely little orphan cousin Maud looks as if she and her father will not be long separated. I hope she is sufficiently clad. But then I must not forget lam used to swarthy faces and warmer skies. My little cousin Mund may live to wear a brighter look and gayer colours."

She was at his side now. All the other women in the world were nothing to him. She was his cousin. Back to the first liti gious fiir John they both traced their lines —the great family of Midharst, winch had come through the noble house of Sancroft. His cousin Maud. They two were the last of the great house—they two. She, the pale, fragile, grieffullady, with the wonder ful soft eyes, and shy halt-frightened air, and tho pure yotme beauty. Good Heavens, how she sanctified the place ! How she illumined the past ! All the ladies of the Midbarat house but her were dead : tneir portraits hung here and there upon the walls of this old historic castle. There was on the walls no lady of the Midharst line as beautiful as Maud. They were all dead and passed away. Around the walls hung the extinguished lamps of beauty in the Midharst house ; here by his side stood the lamp clear and burning bright, the most beautiful aud the only Burning lamp io the hou^e of JNl.dharat —h.13 beau'iful cousin Maud.

" Cou-in Mnnd," hv said

She looked up into .us swarth .• face, into his deep dark eyes, to show taut she was attending, bin did not speak.

" When 1 touched y»ur hand first in all my life, a little while a«o, there were many present, and you gave me your hand ; it may have been merely to show tho*e arounj us that you recognised me as the head of the family—the family of two. Will you now give me your hand at, a private .sign that you know of no reaaon why we should not be friends?"

She held out her hand to him. Not only was he not to be unfriendly, but he wai going to be very kind, she thought.

He took her hand, and bending over it kissed the glove, and once more placing that hand on his arm, led her into the open air of the courtyard, under the great brown archway, and out into the shrubless bare grounds.

When they had got a little distance from the caatle he broke eilence :

" That tall, good-looking gentleman, your guardian, Mr Grey, was very nearly right in saying I was in Kgypt; I have just returned, i have been only a few days in Kngland. Upon my arrival I heard what had taken place, and came on as soon aa possible. 1 got to Daneford last night, and put up at tho Warfinger Hotel. It was then too late to call upon you, Cousin Maud. I did not send up ray n:'.me to-day, because I feared, if you knew my name, you might, out of respect to the old feeling, refuse to see me."

He pansed a moment as if to arrange his thoughts.

She, without raising her eyes from the ground, murnured,

" You were very kind." She did not in saying this mean he had displayed kindness in his past action, but that ho wa3 displaying kindness to her now.

He understood her, and went on

'" I shall have to go back to Egypt im mediately, and I cannot possibly return to England for some monthn. I shall be here again as soon as I can. Before I go away I want to establish a great friendship with you. 1 want you to make np your mind to disregard anything you have ever heard to my disadvantage, and look upon me as the head of tbe family of two, and your best and truest friend. I want you to promise me that at once, to-day—before I leave you —now."

His manner was very fervid and intense as he came towards the end. At the word " now " he ceased to walk.

•She looked up. What a change had taken place in that placid, grave, sad face of a few moments before ! The dark eyes were full of fire, the delicate nostrils moved, and the swarthy cheek was flushed. He rose up over her, tall and broad and fierce and strong. She trembled, but could not take her even from his. She had never met any man like this before. He fixed her atten tion upon him and upon his works beyond the power of her control. She waa frightened and surprised, "What am 1 to do?" she asked fear fully. "You are always to look on your cousin William Midharst aa your beat

friend. Will you promise me that here and nowY' " Yes." " You promise." " I promise," "Very well, that is settled," he said in a quick way. •' Let us mova on. Now I have other tbing3 to say to to you of as great importance. You must listen to me very patiently. When yon do not under etand what I say, you are to stop me and ask me to explaiu. Won't you f' "Yes," very tiuidly. " Now, from the little I have seen of your guardian, I like him very well, and I have no donbt no wiser selection could have been made. Thoße people I met in Dane ford had something to say about events here, and every ona who spoke said stood things of him ; when every one saya good things of a man he must be a good man. Do you like your guardian; I believe you know him some time?"

"I know him sidch I was a child, and I like him very much. No one could have been more k nd or considerate than he ■ and I know my poor father b»d tin greatest confidence in him."

Hhe said this with more animation and earnestness thau Bhe had yet shown. Her gratitude to Grey was profound, and she did not wish her cousin should be for a moment in donbt of her feelings in tbe matter •That is all right: I am delighted to hear you say so. JSow Mr Grey hca full nnd complete control of your fortune ; that la a mere trifle."

Sh.j looked np at him in some surprise and said,

" I understand that Mr Grey had a lar»e sum." . °

' X did not mean that your fortune is a mere trifle, but that the fact ot ita being in his bands ratbcr than any other honest man's is a mere trifle. What I wished to do was to draw a contraat between the com paratively triviality of the guardianship o£ your money compared with that of another thing."

Hii eyes were now fixed, staring ahead • and >.lthough she looked up into his face, he did not glance down, and she could gather no information through her eyes. She said in a tone of faint wonder : ' "I do not know what you mean. My father always told me I should have nothing but the money." Still keeping his eyes fixed ahead, he said, in a dnll, slow, dreamy way : '

"Well, there was one thing ia your father's gift, for a time at all events, and the will Rives it to no ooe. Supposing the guardianship of that thing were in yo»r gift now, would you, considering that I am the only relative you have alive, and that you have agreed to look upon me as your beat friend,— would you, I aefc give me the guardianship ot that thing >" "But is there any auck thing? I certainly never heard of it," she said, in greater wonder. "There is such a thing." "And it is io my power to glvo yon the guardianship?" she asked.

" Absolut' ly, Cousin Maud."

" And you really wish to take the troublesome care of this, whatever it may be ?" *

"I do."

"Then 1 give It to you freely." " And yon will give ma as absolute control over it as if it had been formally made over to my care by the will of your dead father ?"

H.; had now paused in hi* walk once mote, aud was standing looking down on her, not with tlie fiery eyes of a few moment* a^n, but with deep, careful, anxious eyes, as though matter of great moment depended on ber answer.

Under his steady glance she felt her head grow confuted uud hot. She did not know quite clearly what was passin", but she knew lie had a*ked her to do some thing, and xae must do it. " 1 promise," she said, very faintly.

This time he spoko with the most elabor ate clearness of articulation, slowly and ■with emphasis :

"You promise to make over to ma the guardianship <>f the thing to which I allude as absolutely as though it had been made over 'o me by your father's will."

" I do." " Then it is the guardianship of my consia, Maud Midharac." " The guardianshij) of me ! BntMrGrey is my yuardian !"

'• i res and no. He ia the jjuardian of your fortune absolutely. But with respect to your own personal ac'ion you are left free. Yon are recommended by your father to apply to him for advice, but you are not bouud to do any one thing he asks you, or to accept bis advice beyond money matters. In all masters except money you are to consult me You have promised, and you will do so?"

" I will keep my promi.se, but it ia strange." She dropped her eyes, and again the two moved lorward.

His face synduaUy lost it.i Intense ex pression, and assumed its usual dreamy tar-away look. In a few moments he spoke :

" Yp*, it is strange, and to me, Cousin Msud, very sweet, that I should be able to do the least thing for you. Yon must now rely on me wholty. You must take no important step without consulting me. You are aa much under my charge now as if you were my daughter. My only rejrret in the matter ia that 1 am compelled to leave England almost immediately, but I shall be back in aa short a time as pos sible ; in the meanwhile you may look tx> Mr Grey for the advice you want from day to day. But if anything of importance should ari-e, you must write and tell it to me, and I will write back a*d tell you what to do. You understand I"

" Yes. You are very good to one you know so lrttle ot."

" Know so little of ! Know so little of ! Do I not know you through the history of our house ? Is it because we never met, and I never set foot on the Islnnd before, tbat we do not know much of one another ? When I look at those old walls ; when I think of the great house of Fleurey from which we are both come ; when I think that you and 1 bear the one name, and * that the very walls which protected your in fancy and girlhood are mine in my man hood ; when I learned that my cousin Alexander had died, and left my cousin Maud alono in the world with a huge fortune and no natnral guardian but my. self ; when I saw my cousin Maud, and found her pain and timid and tearful I knew her through the past and in the pre sent ; and, Cousin Maud, with the help of Heaven and a resolute will, I shall know her in the future, to the last hour I can be of the least service to her. Why, chilS, I was horrified to think of you all alone and unfriended, save for the friendship of a middle-aged busy man, who had no natural claim upon the privilege of your safe-guard ing. I feared something might come be tween you and me to prevent my getting close to you as I am now, in your confidence, and in the consequence of your promise." She had raised her eyes to his after the first few sentences, She had noted again the flush in the swarthy check,' again the fire in tLc large dark eye. She caught the voice of passionate chivalry that rang oat through his words, clear and sharp "« the voice of the cornet when it alone holds up the theme to the melodious confluence of harmonious strains flowing from orchestra and stage. -

STAR SATURDAY SUJPPUEMENT, JULY 14, 1883.

2