was about, as Harriet had said, to take a new
flight, this time, in the direction of operations
on the general public, and he had formed
designs on Mr. Deane, which did not, in the
increased knowledge he had obtained of that gentleman's
character, and in the present aspect of
affairs, look quite so promising as in the early
stage of their acquaintance, six weeks before.
The operations of gentlemen of the Routh
fraternity are planned and executed with a
celerity which seems extraordinary to pursuers
of the more legitimate branches of industry.
Routh had not passed many hours in Mr.
Deane's society (they had met at a low place
of amusement, the honours of which Routh
was doing to a young Oxonian, full of cash and
devoid of brains, whom he had in hand just
then), before he had built an elaborate scheme
upon the slender foundation of that gentleman's
boasted wealth and assumed greenness. His
subsequent experience had convinced him of the
reality of the first, but had shown him his
mistake as to the last, and gradually his mind,
usually cool and undaunted, became haunted
by an ever-burning desire to possess himself of
the money for ever flaunted before his eyes—
became haunted, too, by an unreasonable and
blind animosity to the stranger, who combined
profligacy with calculation, unscrupulous vice
with well regulated economy, and the unbridled
indulgence of his passions with complete coldness
of heart and coolness of temper. Routh
had no knowledge of Deane's real position in
life, but he had a conviction that had it been,
like his own, that of a professional swindler, he
would have been a dangerous rival, quite
capable of reducing his own occupation and his
own profits very considerably. Therefore Routh
hated him.

When the conference between Routh and
Harriet came to a conclusion, it left the woman
visibly troubled. When Routh had been for
some time asleep, she still sat by the table, on
which her elbows rested, her head on her
hands, and the light shining on her fair brown
hair. There she sat, until the fire died out,
and the late wintry dawn came. She was
not unused to such watches; wakefulness was
habitual to her, and care had often kept her
company. But no vigil had ever tried her so
much. Her mind was at work, and suffering.
When at length she rose from her chair with
an impatient shiver, dark circles were round
her blue eyes, and her pure waxen complexion
looked thick and yellow. She lighted a candle,
turned the gas out, and went for a moment to
the window. The cold grey light was beginning
to steal through the shutter, which she
opened wide, and then looked out. She set the
candle down, and leaned idly against the
window. Weariness and restlessness were
upon her. The street was quite empty, and
the houses opposite looked inexpressibly
gloomy. "One would think all the people
in them were dead instead of asleep," she
said, half aloud, as she pulled the blind down
with a jerk, and turned away. She went
slowly up-stairs to her bedroom, and as she
went, she murmured:

"Where will it end? How will it end? It
is an awful risk!"

SCHOOL-DAYS AT SAXONHURST.

V. BREAKING-UP DAY AT SAXONHURST.

THE old custom of "notching off" the days
—which dates from Robinson Crusoe, whose
vacation, poor dear! was so long in coming—
or strictly, of erasing a day every morning, out
of an almanack, with a very heavy pen, obtained
nowhere to such a degree as at Saxonhurst.
Every one had some such little record, and
thus quickened the laggard steps of time.
There was a peculiar fascination about the
closing days. The exquisite idea of "GOING
HOME" threw a halo over everything. The
festival called "PACKING-UP DAY"—the
penultimate day—had a raciness of its own. Great
stores were all thrown open; contraband
goods seized at the customs on passing the
frontier and detained during the pleasure
of the authorities, were all honourably
restored. So, too, were suits of elegant attire,
ball and evening suits (brought for no earthly
purpose save to minister to the pride of the
owners), ornaments and decorations, books
which had not passed the censorship, even pipes
and cases of cigars—all were given back in the
handsomest manner. Each found his property
laid out on his bed neatly, and his trunk beside
it. Some of these treasures we could not bring
ourselves to pack up, but were displayed,
with pardonable pride, on our persons. A
greater ceremony came on towards four o'clock,
when there was a grand Te Deum sung in
the church, accompanied by all the resources
of OUR BAND and orchestra—drums, trumpets,
hautboys, sackbuts, and all kinds of music,
piping and thundering away with prodigious
effect. The whole House assisted; and thus
the official year was supposed to end. But next
day was the true day of glory—our BREAKING-
UP DAY—the day when the fathers, uncles,
brothers, and guardians, came from distances to
see their young relatives covered with glory;
when the neighbouring squires drove up the long
avenue; and when, in the great room, there was
an "Exhibition" and distribution of premiums.

An enormous room, at one end of which was
a large amphitheatre that mounted in rows of
seats to the ceiling, was crowded with a
tumultuous audience, while the lower seats,
cushioned, held the illustrious strangers and
the neighbouring squires. Sometimes, a lord
and a baronet came. Down in the middle
were two converging rows of chairs facing each
other, the seats of torture for the "young
gentlemen" who were to entertain the company by
reciting various pieces. The remembrance of
this honourable suffering—for it was only youths
who had distinguished themselves who were
selected—makes me even now feel elevatedly
uncomfortable. And in the centre, close to the
Head of the House, was a round table with a