"No such luck. Deeds used to be in Latin;
but Latin could not be made obscure enough.
So now Dark Deeds are written in an unknown
tongue called 'Lawyerish,' where the sense is
' as one grain of wheat in two bushels of chaff;'
pick it out if you can."

"Whatever man has done man may do," said
Dr. Sampson stoutly. "You have rid it, and
yet understood it: so why mayn't we, ye
monster o' conceit?"

"Read it?" said Alfred. " I never read it:
would not read it for a great deal of money.
The moment I saw what a senseless rigmarole
it was, I flung it down and insisted on the
battological author furnishing me with an English
translation. He complied: the crib occupies
just twenty lines; the original three folio pages,
as you see. That crib, gentlemen," added he
severely, " is now in my waistcoat pocket; and
you shall never see it—for your impudence.
No, seat yourselves by that pool of parchment
(sedet eternumque sedebit, &c.) and fish for
Lawyer Crawford's ideas, rari nantes in gurgite
vasto." And with this he flew up-stairs on the
wings of love. Julia met him in the middle of
the room all in a flutter: " It is to ask you a
favour. I am unhappy—about one thing."

She then leaned one hand softly on his shoulder,
and curving her lovely supple neck looked
round into his face and watched it as she
preferred her petition: " It is about Jane and you.
I cannot bear to part you two in this way: only
think, six days you have not spoken; and I am
the cause."

"Not the only cause, love."

"I don't know, darling. But it is very cruel.
I have got my dear mother and Edward; you
have nobody—but Me. Alfred," said she with
gentle impetuosity, " now is the time; your
papa is away."

"Oh, is he?" said Alfred, carelessly.

"Yes. Sarah says Betty says he is gone to
Uncle Thomas. So I know you won't refuse
me, my own Alfred: it is to go to your sister
this minute and make it up."

"What, and leave you?" objected Alfred
ruefully.

"No, no; you are with the gentlemen, you
know: you are not here, in reality, till tea.
Make them an excuse: say the truth; say it
is Me: and come back to me with good news."

He consented on these terms.

Then she armed him with advice: " You go
to make peace; it is our last chance; now
remember, you must be very generous, very sweet
tempered. Guard against your impetuosity.
Oh take warning by me; see how impetuous I
am. And then, you know, after all she is only
a lady, and a great creature like you ought
not to be ruffled by anything so small as a
lady's tongue: the idea! And, dearest, don't
go trusting to your logic, but do descend to the
arts of persuasion, because they are far more
convincing somehow: please try them."

"Yes. Enumerate them."

"Why, kissing, and coaxing, and don't ask
me."

"Will you bestow a specimen of those arts
on me, if I succeed?"

"Try me," said she: and looked him
earnestly in the face; but lowered her long lashes
slowly and shyly, as she realised to what her
Impetuosity was pledging itself.

Alfred got his hat and ran to Musgrove
Cottage.

A man stepped out of the shadow of a hedge
opposite Albion Villa, and followed him, keeping
in shadow as much as possible.

The door of Musgrove Cottage was opened
to him by old Betty with a joyful start: " Mr.
Alfred, I declare! Come in; there's only me
and Miss. Master is in Yorkshire, and that
there crocodile, Peggy, she is turned away—for
sauce—and a good riddance of bad rubbish;
Miss is in the parlour."

She ushered him triumphantly in. Jane was
seated reading: she dropped her book, and ran
and kissed him with a cry of joy. So warm a
reception surprised him agreeably, and simplified
his task. He told her he was come to try and
make it up with her before the wedding: "We
lose your presence, dear Jenny," said he, "and
that is a great grief to us, valuing you as we do:
don't refuse us your good wishes to-morrow."

"Dearest Alfred," said she, " can you think
it? I pray for you day and night. And I have
begun to blame myself for being so sure you
were in the wrong and poor papa faultless.
What you sent me half in jest, I. take in earnest.
' Judge not, that ye be not judged.'"

"Why, Jenny," said Alfred, " how red your
eyes are."

At this observation the young saint laid her
head on her brother's shoulder and had a good
cry like any other girl. When she recovered a
little she told him, yes, she had been very
unhappy: that he had always been a dear good
brother to her, and the only one she had; and
that it cut her to the heart not to be at his
wedding; it seemed so unkind.

Alfred set her on his knee,—she had more
soul than body,—and kissed her and comforted
her: and, in this happy revival of natural affection,
his heart opened, he was off his guard, and
told her all: gave her the several proofs their
father had got the £14,000. Jane, arrested by
the skill and logical clearness with which he
marshalled the proofs, listened in silence; and
presently a keen shudder ran through her frame,
and reminded him he was setting a daughter
against her father.

"There," said he, "I always said I would
never tell you, and now I've done it. Well, at
least you will see with what consideration, and
unheard-of leniency, the Dodds for our sake
are treating Mr. Richard Hardie. Just compare
their conduct to him with his to them. And
which is most to his advantage? that I should
marry Julia, and give Mrs. Dodd the life interest
in my ten thousand pounds, to balance his
dishonesty, or for him to be indicted as a thief?
Ned Dodd told us plainly he would have set the