N'list'me; I'm an old friend, and an insane
lover of justice— I say insane, because my
passion is not returned, or the jade wouldn't keep
out of my way so all these years— you leave all this
to me."

"Stop a minute," said Edward; " you must
not go compromising us: and we have got no
money to pay for luxuries, like detectives."

"I won't compromise any one of you: and
my detective shan't cost y' a penny."

"Ah, my dear friend," said Mrs. Dodd, "the
fact is, you do not know all the difficulties that
beset us. Tell him, Edward. Well then, let me.
The poor boy is attached to this gentleman's
daughter, whom you propose to treat like a
felon: and he is too good a son and too good a
friend for me to— what, what, shall I do?"

Edward coloured up to the eyes: " Who told
you that, mother?" said he. " Well, yes I do
love her, and I'm not ashamed of it. Doctor,"
said the poor fellow after a while, "I see now I
am not quite the person to advise my mother in
this matter. I consent to leave it in your
hands."

And, in pursuance of this resolution, he
retired to his study.

"There's a domnable combination," said
Sampson, dryly. " Truth is sairtainly more
wonderful than feckshin. Here's my fathom o'
good sense in love with a wax doll, and her
brother jilting his sister, and her father pillaging
his mother. It beats hotch potch."

Mrs. Dodd denied the wax doll: but owned
Miss Hardie was open to vast objections: " An
estimable young lady; but so odd; she is one
of these uneasy-minded Christians that have
sprung up: a religious egotist, and malade
imaginaire, eternally feeling her own spiritual
pulse—"

"I know the disorrder," cried Sampson,
eagerly: " the pashints have a hot fit (and
then they are saints): followed in due course by
the cold fit (and then they are the worst of
sinners): and so on in endless rotation: and, if
they could only realise my great discovery, the
perriodicity of all disease, and time their
sintiments, they would find the hot fit and the
cold return chronometrically, at intervals as
riglar as the tide's ebb and flow; and the soul
has nothing to do with either febrile symptom.
Why Religion, apart from intermittent Fever of
the Brain, is just the caumest, peaceablest,
sedatest thing in all the world."

"Ah, you are too deep for me, my good
friend. All I know is that she is one of this
new school, whom I take the liberty to call ' THE
FIDGETY CHRISTIANS.' They cannot let their
poor souls alone a minute; and they pester one
day and night with the millennium; as if we
shall not all be dead long before that: but the
worst is they apply the language of earthly
passion to the Saviour of mankind, and make one's
flesh creep at their blasphemies; so coarse,
so familiar; like that rude multitude which
thronged and pressed Him when on earth. But,
after all, she came to the church, and took my
Julia's part; so that shows she has principle;
and do pray spare me her feelings in any step
you take against that dishonourable person her
father: I must go back to his victim, my poor,
poor child: I dare not leave her long. Oh,
Doctor, such a night! and, if she dozes for a
minute, it is to wake with a scream and tell me
she sees him dead: sometimes he is drowned;
sometimes stained with blood: but always
dead."

This evening Mr. Hardie came along in a fly
with his luggage on the box, returning to
Musgrove Cottage as from Yorkshire: in passing
Albion Villa he cast it a look of vindictive
triumph. He got home and nodded by the fire
in his character of a man wearied by a long
journey. Jane made him some tea, and told
him how Alfred had disappeared on his wedding-
day.

"The young scamp," said he: he added,
coolly, "it is no business of mine; I had no
hand in making the match, thank Heaven." In
the conversation that ensued, he said he had
always been averse to the marriage; but not so
irreconcilably as to approve this open breach of
faith with a respectable young lady: " this will
recoil upon our name, you know, at this critical
time," said he.

Then Jane mustered courage to confess that
she had gone to the wedding herself: " Dear
papa," said she, " it was made clear to me that
the Dodds are acting in what they consider a
most friendly way to you. They think— I
cannot tell you what they think. But, if
mistaken, they are sincere: and so, after prayer,
and you not being here for me to consult, I did
go to the church. Eorgive me, papa: I have
but one brother; and she is my dear friend."

Mr. Hardie's countenance fell at this
announcement, and he looked almost diabolical.
But on second thoughts he cleared up wonderfully:
"I will be frank with you, Jenny: if the
wedding had come off, I should have been deeply
hurt at your supporting that little monster of
ingratitude; he not only marries against his
father's will (that is done every day), but slanders
and maligns him publicly in his hour of poverty
and distress. But, now that he has broken faith
and insulted Miss Dodd as well as me, I declare
I am glad you were there, Jenny. It will
separate us from his abominable conduct. But
what does he say for himself? What reason
does he give?"

"Oh, it is all mystery as yet."

"Well, but he must have sent some explanation
to the Dodds."

"He may have: I don't know. I have not
ventured to intrude on my poor insulted friend.
Papa, I hear her distress is fearful; they fear
for her reason. Oh if harm comes to her, God
will assuredly punish him whose heartlessness
and treachery has brought her to it. Mark my
words," she continued with great emotion, " this
cruel act will not go unpunished even in this
world."

"There, there, change the subject," said Mr.
Hardie peevishly. " What have I to do with his