mentioned him in some way. But had she done so in
a manner to arouse any suspicion in Clare's
mind of his identity? Did Clare remember him?
Did she think of him? Would she forgive him
when she should know all? These, and scores
of cognate questions, did George Dallas put
vainly to himself while he read to his mother a
chapter of his novel, which certainly did not
gain in effect by his abstraction. It pleased the
listener, however, and she knew nothing of his
preoccupation; and as he made the packet up
for post he came to a resolution that on the
following day he would tell Harriet "all about
it," and act on her advice.

With nightfall the wind arose, and a storm
blew and raged over the little white town, over
the dark range of the Taunus, over the lighted
gardens deserted by their usual frequenters,
and, all unheeded, over the brilliant rooms
where the play, and the dancing, and the music,
the harmless amusement, and the harmful devilment
went on just as usual. It blew over the
house where Harriet lived, and raged against
the windows of the room in which she sat in
silence and darkness, except for the frequent
glimmer which was thrown into the apartment
from the street light, which shuddered and
flickered in the rain and wind. Hour after
hour she had sat there throughout the quiet
evening during the lull, and when the darkness
fell and the storm rose she laid her pale
cheek against the window-pane and sat there
still.

The shaded roads were deeply strewn with
fallen leaves next day, and the sun-rays
streamed far more freely through the branches,
and glittered on pools of water in the hollows,
and revealed much devastation among the
flower-beds. Rain and wind had made a
widespread excursion that night; had crossed the
Channel, and rifled the gardens and the woods of
Poynings, and swept away a heavy tribute from
the grand avenue of beeches and the stately
clump of sycamores which Clare Carruthers
loved.

George had finished a drawing very carefully
from the sketch which he had made of the avenue
of beeches, and, thinking over his approaching
communication to Harriet, he had taken the
drawing from its place of concealment in his
desk, and was looking at it, wondering whether
the storm of the past night had done mischief
at the Sycamores, when a servant knocked at
the door of his room. He put the drawing out
of sight, and bade the man come in. He
handed George a note from Harriet, which he
read with no small surprise.

It told him that Routh had been summoned
to London, on important business, by a telegram
—"from that mysterious Flinders, no doubt,"
thought George, as he looked ruefully at the
note—and that they were on the point of starting
from Homburg. "Seven o'clock" was
written at the top of the sheet. They were
gone then; had been gone for hours. It
was very provoking. How dreary the place
looked after the storm! How chilly the air
had become! How much he wished Arthur
would "turn up," and that they might all get
away!

OATHS.

WHAT is the definition of an oath? Is an
oath in every case binding? Are there not
cases where a man is justified in breaking his
oath?

Oaths may be divided into many categories;
they are as numerous and diverse as the
constellations in the heavens. There are compulsory
oaths; there are voluntary oaths. There are
oaths which emanate from the innermost depth's
of a man's heart, and lie by his heart's side, as
a sword does by the side of his body—ready for
action, within his grasp, yet under his control.

In the intercourse of social life the WORD of a
man of honour is equivalent to an oath. A man
capable of breaking his word is capable of breaking
his oath. A man who takes an oath in a
legal form and breaks it becomes liable to the
penalties adjudged by law. Some oaths are
purely formal. Custom has sanctioned them
as such.

"Let your communication," says St.
Matthew, "be Yea, yea; nay, nay; for whatever is
more than these cometh of evil."

Here we have the real value of an oath
reduced to its simple and primeval form and
purpose. Oaths date as far back as Noah.
The Almighty made a covenant that there should
never be a second flood.

The witness was the first rainbow.

Abraham, anxious that his son Isaac should
not marry a daughter of the Canaanites, but one
of his own kindred, made the eldest servant of
his house take an oath to see his wish fulfilled.
The manner in which that oath was administered
is peculiar. The servant put his hand under
the thigh of Abraham, and sware unto him.
Rebecca became the wife of Isaac.

When Jacob took an oath with Labuan, they
raised a pyramid of stones, which they named
"the pyramid of witnesses."

As we proceed through the Biblical legends,
we find that the children of Israel, obedient to
an oath, embalmed the body of Joseph, and
put it in a coffin in Egypt. In Numbers, Moses
lays down the law about oaths clearly enough
until he comes to the widows, where he
breaks down. In Deuteronomy, an oath once
"taken to the Lord" is declared inviolable.
"That which has gone out of thy lips thou shalt
keep and perform."

In the Acts, we find that certain Jews bound
themselves under "a great curse" not to eat
anything until they had slain Paul.

Are rash oaths to be kept? We say, No.
Would it not have been more pleasing to the
Lord, if Jephtha had spared his innocent child,
and if Herod had declined to give Herodias John
the Baptist's head in a charger? In our times,
twelve honest Jews would have convicted
Herod of wilful murder, and Herodias would,