interest in him—and he got it. He didn't deserve
your attachment—and he got it. He
didn't deserve the best place in one of the best
offices in London; he didn't deserve an equally
good chance in one of the best mercantile
houses in China; he didn't deserve food, clothing,
pity, and a free passage home—and he got
them all. Last, not least, he didn't even deserve
to marry a woman old enough to be his grandmother
and he has done it! Not five minutes
since, I sent his wedding-cards out to the dust-hole,
and tossed the letter that came with them
into the fire. The last piece of information
which that letter contains, is that he and his
wife are looking out for a house and estate to
suit them. Mark my words! Frank will get
one of the best estates in England; a seat in
the House of Commons will follow as a matter
of course; and one of the legislators of this
Ass-ridden country will be—- MY LOUT!

"If you are the sensible girl I have always
taken you for, you have long since learned to rate
Frank at his true value, and the news I send you
will only confirm your contempt for him. I wish
your poor father could but have lived to see this
day! Often as I have missed my old gossip, I
don't know that I ever felt the loss of him so
keenly, as I felt it when Frank's wedding-cards
and Frank's letter came to this house.

"Your friend, if you ever want one,
" FRANCIS CLARE, Senr ."

With one momentary disturbance of her composure,
produced by the appearance of Kirke's
name in Mr. Clare's singular narrative, Magdalen
read the letter steadily through, from beginning
to end. The time when it could have distressed
her, was gone by; the scales had long since
fallen from her eyes. Mr. Clare himself would
have been satisfied, if he had seen the quiet
contempt on her face as she laid aside his letter.
The only serious thought it cost her, was a
thought in which Kirke was concerned. The
careless manner in which he had referred, in her
presence, to the passengers on board his ship,
without mentioning any of them by their names,
showed her that Frank must have kept silence on
the subject of the engagement once existing
between them. The confession of that vanished
delusion was left for her to make—as part of the
story of the past which she had pledged herself
unreservedly to reveal.

She wrote to Miss Garth, and sent the letter
to the post immediately.

The next morning brought a line of rejoinder.
Miss Garth had written to secure the cottage at
Shanklin, and Mr. Merrick had consented to
Magdalen's removal on the following day.
Norah would be the first to arrive at the house;
and Miss Garth would follow, with a comfortable
carriage to take the invalid to the railway.
Every needful arrangement had been made for
her: the effort of moving was the one effort she
would have to make.

Magdalen read the letter thankfully—but her
thoughts wandered from it, and followed Kirke
on his return to the City. What was the business
which had once already taken him there in
the morning? And why had the promise
exchanged between them, obliged him to go to the
City again, for the second time in one day?

Was it by any chance, business relating to the
sea? Were his employers tempting him to go
back to his ship?

CHAPTER IV.

THE first agitation of the meeting between
the sisters was over; the first vivid impressions,
half pleasurable, half painful, had softened a little
—and Norah and Magdalen sat together, hand
in hand; each rapt in the silent fulness of her
own joy.

Magdalen was the first to speak.

"You have something to tell me, Norah?"

"I have a thousand things to tell you, my
love; and you have ten thousand things to tell
me.—Do you mean that second surprise, which
I told you of in my letter?"

"Yes. I suppose it must concern me very
nearly—or you would hardly have thought of
mentioning it in your first letter?"

"It does concern you very nearly. You have
heard of George's house in Essex? You must
be familiar, at least, with the name of St. Crux?
—What is there to start at, my dear? I am
afraid you are hardly strong enough for any
more surprises just yet?"

"Quite strong enough, Norah. I have something
to say to you about St. Crux- I have a
surprise, on my side, for you."

"Will you tell it me now?"

"Not now. You shall know it when we are
at the sea-side—you shall know it, before I
accept the kindness which has invited me to your
husband's house."

"What can it be? Why not tell me at once?"

"You used often to set me the example of
patience, Norah, in old times—will you set me
the example now?"

"With all my heart. Shall I return to my
own story as well? Yes? Then we will go
back to it at once. I was telling you that St.
Crux is George's house, in Essex; the house he
inherited from his uncle. Knowing that Miss
Garth had a curiosity to see the place, he left
word (when he went abroad after the admiral's
death) that she and any friends who came with
her, were to be admitted, if she happened to
find herself in the neighbourhood during his
absence. Miss Garth and I, and a large party
of Mr. Tyrrel's friends, found ourselves in the
neighbourhood, not long after George's departure.
We had all been invited to see the launch
of Mr. Tyrrel's new yacht, from the builder's
yard at Wivenhoe, in Essex. When the launch
was over, the rest of the company returned to
Colchester to dine. Miss Garth and I contrived
to get into the same carriage together, with
nobody but my two little pupils for our companions.
We gave the coachman his orders,
and drove round by St. Crux. We were let in
the moment Miss Garth mentioned her name;
and were shown all over the house. I don't
know how to describe it to you: it is the most
bewildering place I ever saw in my life—-"