Mrs. Saxelby," called Clement, lifting his hat
as he saw her at the window. "May I take
Dooley so far with me? I undertake to bring
him back safely."

Dooley, having received permission to go,
rushed into the house again, and had his hat
stuck on his head all askew by Betty, whose
eyes were occupied in staring at Mr. Charlewood
and his steed; then she wrapped the child
in a warm shawl of his mother's, and lifted him
on to the saddle before Clement. Dooley's little
pink legs protruded from his bundle of wraps,
and stuck out horizontally on either side of the
horse. As his hat was all awry, so his flaxen
curls were dishevelled and waving. But he
looked supremely happy as he grasped the bridle
with little frost-reddened fingers, and incited
Duchess to put forth her mettle by many
imperious gees and shouts of "Tum up! Do along,
Dutsess!" and several strenuous though
unsuccessful efforts to make a clicking noise with his
tongue.

As Mrs. Saxelby watched this from the
window, and marked the kind smile on
Clement's face as he held the little fellow in his
protecting arm, a sudden impulse came into
her heart to take counsel with Clement touching
Mabel's letter. "He is a very clever man of
business, and he is fond of Mabel and of all of
us, and he will be able to advise me," thought
the poor weak little woman.

When Clement and Dooley returned on foot,
having left Duchess in a warm stable at the
inn, Mrs. Saxelby received them in the little
parlour. She had a bright fire in the grate, and
the aspect of the room was pleasant and cozy.
Clement wondered to himself, as he sat down
beside the clean hearthstone, what it was that
gave to that poor meanly furnished little room
an atmosphere of peace aud comfort such as he
never found in any of the rich rooms at Bramley
Manor. The cottage at Hazlehurst he felt to be
a home, whereas Bramley Manor was only a
very handsome house. The difference, though
undefinably subtle, was quite appreciable.

"And how is Miss Earnshaw?" said Clement,
stroking Dooley's curls. "I hope you continue
to have good news of her?"

"Thank you, she is not ill."

There was a tremor in Mrs. Saxelby's voice,
and a stress on the last word, that caused
Clement to look up quickly.

''You have heard nothing disagreeable, I
trust?"

"N—no; that is to say——I wonder if
you would mind my reposing a great confidence
in you, Mr. Charlewood? I have no right
to ask it, but I should be so grateful for your
advice."

"A great confidence implies a great
responsibility," returned Clement, gravely. It was
his character to be earnest and to take things
seriously; and the bound his heart gave at Mrs
Saxelby's words—suggestive of some revelation
regarding Mabel—made him change colour
for the moment.

"I repeat, I have no right to burden you
with any responsibility," said Mrs. Saxelby,
meekly. "But I—I—feel towards you almost
as to a son."

Clement flushed, and pressed Dooley's curly
head so hard that the child winced.

"Dooley, my boy, I beg your pardon. Did
I hurt you?" asked Clement, somewhat
confused.

"'Oo did hurt me, but 'oo is very sorry,"
returned Dooley, endeavouring to combine
candour with courtesy.

"Dear Mrs. Saxelby," said Clement,
earnestly, "pray do not suppose that I have any
selfish dread of responsibility. I am very
sensible of your kindness and confidence. Only I
doubted whether you might not have found a
more competent counsellor. One who has a
higher regard for you and yours, I do not think
you would find easily. Was it something
concerning Miss Earnshaw that you wished to say
to me?"

"Yes. I received a letter from her on Friday
morning. I am afraid she is very far from
contented in Eastfield."

"I dot a letter from Tibby, too!" said Dooley,
triumphantly.

"Yes, my darling. Go and tell Betty to
wash your hands and face and brush your hair,
and then you may bring your letter to show
to Mr. Charlewood. I don't like," added Mrs.
Saxelby, as the child left the room, "to speak
before him. He is very quick, and his attachment
to his sister is so strong, that I really
believe, baby though he is, it would break his
heart to think she was unhappy."

"But I hope, Mrs. Saxelby, that there is
nothing serious."

"Ah, but there is, though. Something very
serious. There! Read that letter, and tell
me your opinion."

Mrs. Saxelby experienced a little trepidation
as she gave Mabel's letter into the young
man's hand, and felt that she had taken an
irrevocable step. Clement read the letter
steadily through, and the long sigh of relief that
he drew at its close, came upon him almost
as a revelation. The news was very annoying,
very distressing, but—it was not hopeless, not
irremediable. What revelation regarding Mabel
had he feared, which would have seemed to him
so much harder to bear? He did not answer
the question even to himself, but he knew in the
moment when he laid the letter down, that he
loved her with all the strength of his heart, and
that he would henceforth bend the powers of
his will and energy to the endeavour of winning
her to be his wife.

"You don't speak, Mr. Charlewood."

"I am not sure that I thoroughly understand
the contents of this letter. But I suppose I
have guessed their meaning pretty accurately.
I presume that the career to which Miss Earnshaw
alludes as having been her dream for so
long, is—is—the stage?"

"Yes," said Mrs Saxelby." "Now the truth
is out. The Aunt Mary she speaks of in her
letter, is an actress. We never mentioned that