well, and were very sorry not to see Miss Earnshaw
before she went, and sent much love to her.

Clement had announced his intention of walking
over to Hazlehurst, that morning at breakfast
at Bramley Manor, and Walter—who always
found his time rather more difficult to get rid
of on Sunday than on any other day—had
volunteered to accompany him. So the two
young men had come together, enjoying by the
way a brotherly chat: the most intimate and
friendly they had had for a long time.

"And what are you doing, Walter?" said
Mrs. Saxelby. "It is an age since I saw you,
and, if I didn't fear to affront you, I should
almost make bold to say you had grown."

Walter laughed and coloured.

"Oh, I shan't be a bit affronted at that, Mrs.
Saxelby. But as to what I am doing, the
fact is I am doing nothing. Just waiting for
my commission. It's a deuce of a bore, hanging
on like this."

"Then you have really made up your mind
to go into the army, Walter?"

"Oh yes; fixed as fate. It's the only profession
for a gentle——I mean, it's about the only
thing to suit me."

"Drill, dress, and dinner, Watty. That's
what I tell him an officer's life consists of, Mrs.
Saxelby," said Clement. "So I dare say he
is right in his estimate of his fitness for it."

"All but the drill," returned Watty, good
humouredly. "Confound that part of the
business!"

Here Betty appeared at the parlour door,
holding a clean tablecloth under her arm, and
asked in a loud hoarse tone, which possibly
was meant for a whisper: "The mate's done.
Be they a goin' to stop dinner?"

The young men rose.

"Nay, you must stay and eat something
with us," said Mrs. Saxelby. "Call it lunch if
you like. Lay two more plates, and knives,
and forks, Betty. And call Miss Mabel and
Master Dooley. Give me the cloth; I will
spread it."

Clement and Walter were willing enough to
remain, but feared they should be "in the way."

"In the way? Nonsense! I won't let you
be in the way; never fear."

Mabel, though not able quite to banish the
recollection of Penelope's words, was yet glad, on
the whole, that they remained; for her mother
brightened under the influence of their presence.

After the meal was over, Dooley urgently
entreated his friend Walter to "tum and 'ook at
de pig."

"He lives in a ty," said Dooley, eagerly, "an'
he knows me. I durst div him apples. I ain't
frightened, because Tibby says he's a dood pig.
Tum an' see him." Dooley seized Walter's hand,
and pulled him without more ado into the
paddock, at one corner of which stood the pigsty.

"May I not see this interesting animal too?"
asked Clement.

"Oh, certainly," returned Mrs. Saxelby.
"Pray look at him, and give me your candid
opinion of his beauties. As I am quite ignorant
of the subject, you will be safe in
pronouncing your judgment. Mabel, my darling, I
won't go out. It is too cold for me. Take Mr.
Charlewood over the extensive domain; and I
will have a cup of coffee ready by the time you
come back."

Mabel put on an old garden-hat of very determined
ugliness, and tucked up her gown so as
to show a pair of hideous goloshes which
effectually disfigured the pretty feet that Mrs.
Hutchins had mentally compared to Rosalba's
of Naples.

"The paddock is damp," she said, curtly,
and without another word preceded Clement.
They had not gone many paces, when Clement
stopped. "Miss Earnshaw, I have a message
for you which I must not forget to deliver."

Mabel stopped also, and, without turning
completely round, looked over her shoulder at him.

"A message for me?"

"Yes. I think you can guess from whom.
Little Corda Trescott sends you—I must be
exact, for the words were confided to me with
many solicitous injunctions to repeat them
literally—sends you her dearest love and thanks,
and is grieved to hear of your sorrow, and will
never, never forget you, and hopes some day to
see you again. That is my message."

Mabel's face softened into a girlish tender
smile, that had a lurking sadness in it. "Ah,
poor little Corda! Thank you, Mr. Charlewood.
Then you have seen her again? That
is very good of you!"

"I saw her yesterday. She is getting quite
strong, if one may apply the term to anything
so fragile. She still has some books of yours,
she tells me. I have promised to bring them
to Hazlehurst when she has read them, and
after you—— Miss Earnshaw, I am an older
friend than Corda. Don't refuse me the privilege
of saying, as she says, that I shall never, never,
forget you, and that I hope to see you again.

"You are very kind," said Mabel, in so low a
tone as to be almost inaudible.

"Not kind in that hope; rather say, selfish;
but it is more than a hope with me. It is a
resolution."

"We are near the pig," said Mabel, ruthlessly.

If she were cold, Clement was earnest. He
would not suffer his words to be so put aside.

"I not only hope, but I intend to see you
again. I shall say au revoir when we part."

"No, Mr. Charlewood. I fear you had best
say adieu."

"Adieu? No! You will at least come
to Hazlehurst for your holidays. And it is
possible" (Clement blushed a little here), "nay,
very probable, that I may be running over to
EastfieId on business."

"I think it very likely that I shall not return
to Hazlehurst for any length of time. I have
a feeling that my career at Eastfield will be but
a brief one. However, I have promised to try
it. But here is the pig, and here is Dooley,
over his ankles in mud. Dooley, you must
come in with me directly, and change your wet
shoes and stockings."