mere pretence; and I have tried, but I could
not.  I like you better than you like me,
Grantley —a great deal."

"Hope!"

What was it?  What happened?  What
madness took him?  Neither of them ever knew,
boy and girl as they were; but Hope found
herself clasped to his heart, with her arm round
his neck, and their flushed, wet, youthful faces
laid against each other.

But they were not in smooth water yet, and
had something more formidable before them
than even their own misunderstanding and
childish blindness had been. Though John
Rashleigh might forgive a girlish freedom like
that of which Hope had been guilty, it was by
no means certain that he would forgive this far
graver sin.  The light of his eyes and the pride
of his heart, she for whom lords and princes
would not have been too good, to give herself
away at sixteen to a poor relation!  Hope
knew all the trial to be passed through.  It
must be met, however, and that at once, unless
she and Grantley would undertake a clandestine
correspondence—for which the one was too
proud and the other too honest; or unless they
would give up each other—which neither would
hear of.   What she anticipated came to pass,
in even exaggerated form.  The father was
furious; violent beyond anything she had
dreamed possible; but, girl as she was, she was
firm, and Grantley would not yield her so long
as she would hold to him.

Then came that terrible collision of two wills
equal in strength, and the battle of love and
pride which tears a man's very soul.  Look
which way he would, there was no comfort for
John Rashleigh; and refusal or consent was
equally madness and despair.  But he must
decide.  The proud man had to balance with
the father; and eventually the father won the
day.  Yet he would not consent to the marriage
for many years even after they had come to
riper age than what is generally held ripe
enough; and when he did—when Grantley came
back from India with a character and repute of
his own, and his cousin found that both poor
relation and daughter had not swerved a hair's
breadth from their young loves, and were
minded to marry without his consent if could
not be with—even then, when forced to yield,
Grantely found his roses decidedly not without
thorns.  His sweetness of temper though
conquered before the end came; and when John
Rashleigh was dying, he confessed that Grantley
had been the best son, and the dearest, father
ever had; and that now, when the things of this
world were slipping away from him and he was
beginning to learn their emptiness, he was glad
that Hope had married one who, by his better
influence, had made her a nobler and a gentler
woman.

"But you were a thief after all, my boy,
an stole a greater treasure thatn a paltry bank-
note," he said lovingly, not an hour before he
died.

MODERN TORTURE.

WE publish the following letter, as an act of
justice.  WE do not observe however, that it
contradicts any statement to which this Journal
has given circulation.

TO THE EDITOR

Sir,—An article headed Modern Torture
appeard on the 10th of June in number 320 of
All the Year Round, at page 463, being a sort
of abstract of Rückel's work, entitled Sachesens
Erkebung und das Zuchthaus zu Waldheim.

I trust you will be good enough to complete
this article by mentioning, in your periodical,
that the Saxon government has published a
declaration in the official paper, the Dresden
Journal, to the effect that it disdains to
prosecute the author, or take any legal proceedings
against  his book, preferring to leave the verdict
on it to the sound common sense of the Saxon
people.

This individual, after having fought at the
barricades against the government, whose paid
servant he was at the time, was convicted for
sedition, and received, through the royal grace,
first his life, and, at a later period, the remission
of his commuted sentence.  He now seeks to
make capital of his imprisonment by the
publication of a sensation romance.

In conclusion, I may add that the Prussian
press loudly predicted the confiscation and
prohibition of the work by the Saxon government.

This confiscation and prohibition have indeed
taken place in Prussia, but not in Saxony.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

E. P. DE COLQUHOUN,

Aulic Councillor of H.M. the King of Saxony.

* See page 463 of the last volume.

Just published, bound in cloth, price 5s 6d.,

THE THIRTEENTH VOLUME.

NEW WORK BY MR. DICKENS,

In Monthly Parts, uniform with the Original Editions of

"Pickwick," "Copperifield," &c.

Now publishing, PART XVI., price 1s., of

OUR MUTUAL FRIEND.

BY CHARLES DICKENS.

IN TWENTY MONTHLY PARTS.

With Illustrations by MARCUS STONE

London: CHAPMAN and HALL, 193, Piccadilly.

A new Serial Novel, by CHARLES COLLINS, entitled

AT THE BAR,

Will be commenced in No. 335, for September 23rd, in
addition to HALF A MILLION OF MONEY, by AMELIA
B. EDWARDS, which will be continued from week to week
until completed.