penknife. "How long have you been here,
Mary?"

"Three weeks and four days."

"Only that? and for the first four days
I never said a word to you! And yet it
seems as if I had known you three months,
Mary. I have never met any girl towards
whom I felt in the least as I feel towards
you."

She started, and turned red, and tried to
mask her real emotion by a sarcastic inflection
of voice.

"So I should think, judging from the
special tribute yon paid my exceptional
merits last night; a sort of refined
compliment which the other girls you 'have
met' are fortunate to have been spared."

"Don't be too hard on me, Mary. I
want you to believe that I am in earnest in
what I say, and this is not the passing
whim of a moment. I have never seen
any woman I could love as a wife but you.
But to prove to you my sincerity, I only
ask you to wait. I will go from home,
yes, if you will remain here, and will
promise to listen to me, and try and like me
when I return. I know you would never
marry me unless you did. I know, too,
beforehand, all your scruples — all you will
say about my mother, and her strong feelings
as to caste. It is of no use entering
upon that now. But, by-and-bye, three
months hence, when I come back, if you
can bring yourself to care about me, all
that shall be made straight: I swear it
shall."

When he had finished, Maud remained
silent; and yet she knew that every
instant aggravated the necessity of her saying
something.

"I certainly can't promise what you
wish, Mr. Cartaret. Putting my own feelings
aside, and how recently you have
outraged them, I should be disloyal towards
your mother if I permitted you to use
such language as this without — without—
in short, if I am to believe that you are in
earnest, of course the sooner you go away
and forget this nonsense, the better. Think
how your smart friends would laugh if they
could hear you! I will remain with Mrs.
Cartaret, for she has been most kind to me;
but for that very reason it would be doubly
ungrateful of me to encourage this mad
idea of yours. When you come back——"
(she wanted to say, "I hope," but could
not), "no doubt you will have forgotten
it. And now, sir, it is getting dusk; I
must return to the house."

And without waiting for his rejoinder
she turned away, and walked rapidly across
the park.

Lowndes Cartaret went up to London
by the mail-train that night. His mother
was always sorry when he left Beckworth;
but at this particular moment, perhaps,
she felt less so than usual. It was just as
well, after what it pleased her to style
his "stupid" conduct of the previous
night, that he and Mary Hind should
not meet for a time. Might it not be
regarded in some sort as a concession to
Mrs. Rouse and public opinion in the
servants' hall?

Her satisfaction was of short duration.
Early on the following morning a shabby
man in a great coat came to the back-door,
and asked to see Mary Hind. Mrs. Rouse,
being informed of the fact, said it was just
"like her impudence," and sailed out with
an empurpled visage to tell the stranger to
be off, as "no followers" were allowed
here. But he said that in reply which
caused her to change her tone.

The next minute he and the housekeeper
were seated in her own room, with closed
doors.

MR. DICKENS'S NEW WORK.
Just Published, PRICE ONE SHILLING,
PART FOUR OF
THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY S. L. FlLDES.
London: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, Piccadilly.

Just published, price 5s. 6d., bound in green cloth,
THE THIRD VOLUME
OF THE NEW SERIES OF
ALL THE YEAR ROUND.
To be had of all Booksellers.