measter. And I reckon he's taken aback by
me pretty much as I am by him; for he sits
and listens and stares as if I were some
strange beast newly caught in some of the
zones. But I'm none daunted. It would
take a deal to daunt me in my own house, as
he sees. And I tell him some of my mind
that I reckon he'd ha' been the better of
hearing when he were a younger man."

"And does he not answer you?" asked
Mr. Hale.

"Well! I'll not say th' advantage is all on
his side, for all I take credit for improving
him above a bit. Sometimes he says a rough
thing or two, which is not agreeable to look
at at first, but has a queer smack o' truth in
it when yo come to chew it. He'll be coming
to-night, I reckon, about them childer's
schooling. He's not satisfied wi' the make of
it, and wants for t' examine 'em."

"What are they"—began Mr. Hale; but
Margaret, touching his arm, showed him her
watch.

"It is nearly seven," she said. " The
evenings are getting longer now. Come,
papa." She did not breathe freely till they
were some distance from the house. Then,
as she became more calm, she wished that
she had not been in so great a hurry; for
somehow they saw Mr. Thornton but very
seldom now; and he might have come to
see Higgins, and for the old friendship's
sake she should like to have seen him
tonight.

Yes! he came very seldom, even for the
dull cold purpose of lessons. Mr. Hale was
disappointed in his pupil's lukewarmness
about Greek literature, which had but a short
time ago so great an interest for him. And
now it often happened that a hurried note
from Mr. Thornton would arrive, just at the
last moment, saying that he was so much
engaged that he could not come to read with
Mr. Hale that evening. And though other
pupils had taken more than his place as to
time, no one was like his first scholar in
Mr. Hale's heart. He was depressed and sad
at this partial cessation of an intercourse
which had become dear to him; and he used
to sit pondering over the reason that could
have occasioned this change.

He startled Margaret one evening as she
sate at her work, by suddenly asking:

"Margaret! had you ever any reason for
thinking that Mr.Thornton cared for you?"

He almost blushed as he put this question;
but Mr. Bell's scouted idea recurred to him,
and the words were out of his mouth before
he well knew what he was about.

Margaret did not answer immediately;
but by the bent drooping of her head, he
guessed what her reply would be.

"Yes; I believe—oh papa, I should have
told you." And she dropped her work, and
hid her face in her hands.

''No, dear; don't think that I am impertinently
curious. I am sure you would have
told me if you had felt that you could return
his regard. Did he speak to you about it?"

No answer at first; but by-and-by a little
gentle reluctant " Yes."

"And you refused him?"

A long sigh; a more helpless nerveless
attitude, and another " Yes." But before
her father could speak, Margaret lifted up
her face, rosy with some beautiful shame,
and, fixing her eyes upon him, said:

"Now, papa, I have told you this, and I
cannot tell you more; and then the whole
thing is so painful to me; every word
and action connected with it is so unspeakably
bitter, that I cannot bear to think of it.
Oh, papa, I am sorry to have lost you this
friend, but I could not help it—but oh! I am
very sorry." She sate down on the ground,
and laid her head on his knees.

"I too, am sorry, my dear. Mr. Bell quite
startled me when he said, some idea of the
kind—"

"Mr. Bell! Oh did Mr. Bell see it?"

"A little; but he took it into his head
that you—how shall I say it?—that you were
not ungraciously disposed towards Mr. Thornton.
I knew that could never be. I hoped
the whole thing was but an imagination;
but I knew too well what your real feelings
were to suppose that you could ever like
Mr. Thornton in that way. But I am very
sorry."

They were very quiet and still for some
minutes. But, on stroking her cheek in a
caressing way soon after, he was almost
shocked to find her face wet with tears. As
he touched her, she sprang up, and smiling
with forced brightness, began to talk of
the Lennoxes with such a vehement desire to
turn the conversation, that Mr. Hale was too
tender-hearted to try to force it back into the
old channel.

"To-morrow—yes, to-morrow they will be
back in Harley Street. Oh, how strange it
will be! I wonder what room they will
make into the nursery? Aunt Shaw will be
happy with the baby. Fancy Edith a
mamma! And Captain Lennox—I wonder
what he will do with himself now he has
sold out!"

"I'll tell you what," said her father,
anxious to indulge her in this fresh subject
of interest, " I think I must spare you for a
fortnight just to run up to town and see the
travellers. You could learn more, by half an
hour's conversation with Mr. Henry Lennox,
about Frederick's chances, than in a dozen of
these letters of his; so it would, in fact, be
uniting business with pleasure."

"No, papa, you cannot spare me, and
what's more, I wont be spared." Then after
a pause, she added: " I am losing hope
sadly about Frederick; he is letting us down
gently, but I can see that Mr. Lennox
himself has no hope of hunting up the witnesses
under years and years of time. No," said she,
"that bubble was very pretty, and very dear