always taught its egregious lessons on
market days, when the largest number
of pupils could be assembled—yet, no
stranger entering the town during that day
could have distinguished it from a day of
pleasure. It was not extraordinary, therefore,
that the landlord of the Angel and
Bells close to the Couuty Hall was
embarassed with too great a crowd of customers.
He gave up serving in despair, and went
on arguing vehemently about the acquitted
prisoner. The claims of Lance-corporal
Hairnes, of the Twelfth Hussars, with a
billet for himself and four comrades,
were, of course, utterly disregarded. The
dispute waxed warm. The landlord thumped
the bar with his fist. "Wasn't I," he
angrily asked, "at the trial, looking at him
all the time ? D'ye think I didn't know him
directly he walked into this very passage?"

"Don't tell me! " answered the head clerk
of Messrs. Battam and Ball, as he dug a
ragged pennyworth of cheese out of a huge
double Gloucester. " I don't mean to believe
that a gentleman so well known about here
—he and his ancestors for centuries—has got
no other place to put his head into than this?
—Here, a nip of Burton!"

"I say it's him and nobody else! " The
landlord was very irate: " why, I'm not such a
fool as not to know a rnan again that I'd been
looking at all the morning, just because he
had got a hat on. I tell you he walked in
by himself, and asked, in a mournful sort of
voice, if he could have a private sitting-room
and a bed. You might have knocked me
down with a pipe-stalk."

'' Then do you mean to say he has been
here all night?"

"Yes, I do—and as solitary as ever he was
in gaol. There's been his lawyer and his
lady here to see him a dozen times; but he
won't see a soul," replied the landlord, whose
ruffled veracity was now sufficiently calmed
to enable him to serve his most clamorous
customers.

Meanwhile, some of them were serving
themselves; for the lance-corporal knew of
no other way to attract attention, than to
order his men to draw what beer they
wanted, to drink it, and not to pay for it.
While these words of command were being
implicitly obeyed, he marched up-stairs;
having already heard enough from the
landlord to induce him to enter the first-floor
sitting-room without knocking. The occupant
was writing; and, having started up
menacingly to resent the intrusion, found
the corporal standing straight against the
open door, performing a military salute; but
sat down quietly when he recognised Thomas
Hockle, in spite of his regimentals.

The interview was so painful that even
inu trying to describe it to me, the riding-
master was too much affected to give a clear
idea ofwhat passed. George Dornley, utterly
forsaken and. hopeless, was arranging his
papers. He was totally changed. Although
touched by the interest which his former
groom took in him, he was almost sullen.
He tried every practical method to rid
himself of his presence. Tom, however, said
frankly, that Mr. George was not in a state to
be left to himself, and that it was his
intention to keep guard over him. Dornley
resented this ; but not harshly ; and, after
a minute or two passed in deep thought, he
determined to confide in the man thus far :
—as he intended to go abroad, he would give
his papers into Hockle's charge.

"But," said the lance-corporal, " I am
going abroad myself—to India. We have
got our route, and sail next Thursday."

That was of no consequence, wherever he
went he could take the papers with him.

The documents had scarcely been tied up
securely, before the door opened again, and
Mr. Vollum presented himself with a lady.
Hockle described her as thin and pale; but
upright, undaunted; an unnatural brightness
flashing from her eye. She cast herself towards
Dornley; but he stood aloof. She trembled;
and, during that short spasm, seized the back
of a chair for support; for Vollum, having
introduced her into the room, retired as
quickly and timidly as if he had set light to
a powder magazine. Hockle would also have
left the room, but Doruley desired—
commanded him—to remain.

"I will not be alone," he said, partly aloud,
"with, with—" he hesitated, mentioned no
name; did not even look at his wife. "There
can," he said, louder, " be nothing for us to
speak about which this person, or any per-
son, may not hear."

"Upon this," Hockle said, in telling me
this part of the story—" Mrs. George looked
at me in a way that went to my very
heart. It was the old look that she gave me
in the dingle, when she said, ' I think we may
trust him, dear George.' I guessed why Mr.
George was so deadly against her:—no honest
man would have liked his wife any the better
for perjuring herself, even to save him. But
my blood boiled against Mr. George for being
so cold so—different from what he used to
be. As for me, I could at that moment
have laid down my life for her; perjury, or
no perjury."

She spoke first; but she said very little. She
said, simply, that her enemies had prevailed;
that she and Mr. George were separated
for ever; but that before she died (Mr.
George shuddered), she would set herself
right with him. She had done nothing—
nothing (she thought a moment), no nothing
which she could repent of—

At this, Mr. George looked up. He saw
her standing before him, upright, brave, but
not bold, looking straight upon him. Their
eyes were fixed upon each other; they did
not seem to breathe. She did not take her
eyes from him, even when she went on
to say:—"I solemnly swear it!" but