"You have done your duty, Mrs. Dorothy," said Sir Paul, gravely. "We are willing to take the consequences, should any ensue; Walter does not want money with his wife, but he does want goodness, sweetness, modesty, and culture, as well as grace and beauty, which I must confess the Bradens have ever most fully appreciated. The ladies of Bradenshope have always been 'fair to see.' Also, we will take care that she is not 'spoiled.' Nay! I am not afraid to promise that she shall return to you visibly improved. Is it a bargain, Mrs. Dorothy? What have Mr. and Mrs. Arnison to say?"

A little more serious talk, and it was decided that Hilda should be at home at Bradenshope during her aunt's absence, visiting at the Blue House according to circumstances. And this arrangement being happily concluded, Mrs. Dorothy was in haste to return to the Grey House, where she would have to be exceedingly busy during the next few days. "I shall have," said she, "to set my house in perfect order, because it may be that I may never return. All the servants must have their several tasks assigned them. I shall, of course, leave them on board wages. Many valuables I shall securely stow away, and the plate and jewellery and my old lace I shall send to thee, Ralph-I am not afraid of thieves, it is long since we had a burglary in these parts; but I have a strong belief in prudence, and one of my cherished maxims is, Safe bind, safe find.' And, Ralph, if it will not trouble thee too much, thou mightest secure me a berth in the next Transatlantic steamer."

"I will do all you wish, Aunt Dorothy, as you seem perfectly sane, and I have certainly no right to restrain your movements; but I must say I shall be exceedingly glad when I see you once more at your own fireside. Having found your friend, and transacted what little business you may have with him, I suppose you will at once turn your face homewards? You will not make a tour through the country?"

Really I do not know that I shall not! Of course I shall see Niagara, and I should much like to have a look at Chicago. If one must travel one may as well reap all the advantages. It is quite possible, though, that by the

time I find my friend I may have had enough of it. If I were twenty years younger, I would certainly go from one end of the States to the other, and I would visit Canada. And that reminds me I have a cousin, only about thirty times removed, living in Toronto. But as I never saw her, and she never saw me, and as I am by no means certain whether her name is Smith, or Jones, or Brown, or anything else, I do not think I shall go out of my way to leave my card or lunch. with her. Well! if my journey is prospered, as I pray God it may be, if nothing unforeseen should cause delay, I think you may calculate on my return before Christmas. And I may as well say now as later, I shall bring my friend back with me."

"You are very mysterious, Aunt Dorothy," said Mr. Arnison; and then, rather uneasily, "I suppose you are not going to marry your friend?"

"I am not, Ralph Arnison. But I was going to marry him once it is forty years and more since we were parted by the malice and cunning of my nephew, Hilda's unhappy father, and thy scapegrace brother, Rose, my dear. Harry Rivers and I were engaged for five years; he was poor, and so was I in those days, and all my relatives objected to the match. My nephew George, who was not so much younger than myself-he being the eldest of his generation and I the youngest of mine-was extremely anxious that I should accept a wealthy suitor, who just then unhappily appeared on the scene. You were only a lad then, Sir Paul; but you will remember Archie Lawson, the reported millionaire! Well, when my kindred, and especially my brother, George's father, found that I was resolute, they resolved to break off the match, by foul means if they could not by fair. And George it was who undertook the dirty work; they never would have succeeded without him. It was the old story-just what one reads of in novels, but what is common enough in real life; letters were suppressed, and—it is dreadful to say it -they were forged George could always imitate any person's handwriting-a most fatal talent! However, I need not tell all the miserable tale; each believed the other false; we ought to have known better, both of us! We

you

were bitterly punished for our want of faith, and yet we were too young to suspect the treachery of our enemies. I always say now to lovers-true lovers, I mean—' If quarrel, meet face to face, and speak freely and at any cost before you part.' If we had done so, how much unhappiness would have been spared us.

"The plotters plotted well, and their success was complete. I was free again; Harry left the country; the next thing I heard of him was that he had married and settled in Canada-and that was true! I knew afterwards that he could do nothing else; he saved a girl from the Indians; she was alone in the world, and she clung to him; they were left together in the backwoods-people would say uncharitable things; what could an honourable man do but marry her? He had lost for ever, as he believed, the only woman he loved; he could make a good, innocent, affectionate girl happy, and shield her from much that might have pressed heavily upon her. A little while afterwards I was told that he was dead."

"Which was an error, intentional, or otherwise?" "It was an error; and I hope it was otherwise.' But I believed it from that time till a few days ago, when, all unexpectedly, I learned the truth. Harry is old and poor and infirm; he has always had what people call 'bad luck.' If I had married him, all mine would have been his; therefore he has a right now to share all that I possess.

"His wife is dead, of course?

Many years ago; there was one child, at least a son, who grew to manhood; but he also is dead. I am not sure but that there is a grandchild. So, if Harry will come back he shall, and be master of the Grey House while he lives. We need not make ourselves ridiculous by marrying. People at our age may safely defy scandal, I should think. If not, so much the worse for the scandalmongers; they will not trouble me. So now you know all that is to be known. I would rather Hilda were not told; I shall simply inform her that I am going to America-that duty calls me there-and that she is to remain here, under your care and authority, while I am away."

And then it was arranged that on the morrow Hilda should be driven to the Grey House that she might make herself useful to her aunt, whose hands would certainly be pretty full if she sailed for New York, as she proposed, during the ensuing week, and to bring away such further portions of her own wardrobe as would be necessary.

To say that Hilda was astonished is only to say what everybody must have anticipated, and she could not help puzzling herself as to the nature of the "important business," which was carrying across the broad Atlantic so staid and settled a personage as the lady of the Grey House. She soon ascertained that Barker was as much in the dark as herself, as regarded the mission on which she was bound; but, as she protested, where her mistress went she would go, though it were to the ends of the earth-where, she had read, the sun never shines, and there is nothing but snow and ice! Or if her mistress chose to ascend a volcano in a state of eruption, she would follow her. She only wished there was a railway from England to New York; and if there could be a telegraph, why could there not be a railway, as it was well known railways and telegraphs went together? She had once in her life "crossed the sea," and did not like it at all, as she was so deadly sick she wished some one would drop her into the water! Hilda discovered that the "crossing was only from Fleetwood to the Isle of Man, and she felt a sort of compassion for the cross old Abigail, who was going to experience miseries of which she had no adequate idea. If Barker had known what really was in store for her; still further, had she guessed on what errand her mistress was bound-it is possible that she might, after all her protestations, have declined to stir from Endlestone.

Mr. Arnison was as good as his word; he secured the required berths, and, moreover, insisted on escorting his aunt and her maid to Liverpool, and seeing them safely on board the Western Star. Barker was cross long before she reached Preston, and momentarily put her head out of the window to see if there was not going to be a smash! Then it was very hot and dusty, and the railway officials "put her about" by behaving disrespectfully

to her cherished belongings. With Liverpool and its quay she was naturally disgusted, as being the "biggest, filthiest, noisiest, most confusing place she had ever seen or ever hoped to see!"

Mr. Arnison was surprised, well as he knew Mrs. Dorothy, at her serene composure and quiet interest in all she saw and heard; but he feared greatly she had cumbered herself with a terrible impediment and trial in the person of her dissatisfied, ill-tempered waiting-woman, "Mrs. Verjuice."

"No farther seek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode (There they alike in trembling hope repose), The bosom of his Father and his God."

"AND now we have you safe! You are 'a permanency,' as Susan Nipper observed, for at least three months, was Christina's greeting when, on the morning of Mrs. Dorothy's departure, she drove over to the Grey House to bring Hilda and her personalities back to Bradenshope. Hilda's things were all ready, and she herself had nothing to do save lock up sundry linen-presses which had been left in her safe keeping. Christina insisted on paying a visit to Mrs. Jessie White; and Hilda told her how strange country life had appeared to her when first she arrived at Endlestone; how frightened she was at the cows and the turkeys, and even the geese, which hissed at her as though she were the opposing candidate at a strongly-contested election; and how disgusted with the pigs, and how cautious of the busy bees!

"Were you very unhappy?" asked Christina, as, after