sudden inspiration. "Won't you come in and have a cup of tea before you venture any farther ?"

The prospect of tea was irresistible.

They found the place almost empty and took possession of a table at the far end.

Both felt strangely light-hearted in spite of the fog. She looked lovelier than ever, he thought, in her neat costume of dark blue. She took off her gloves deliberately. As she did so, his eyes were fixed anxiously on her left hand. He sipped his tea serenely when he had seen that she wore no obnoxious diamond hoop on the third finger.

"By the way," she exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward slightly and smiling, "I have an interesting piece of news for you. Guess who is engaged! Some one who was at Rock Edge."

His blue eyes looked down into hers with no answering smile in them, but only anxiety.

"I give it up."

"Bertie Kendrick," she said, and waited for the effect of her words.

"And is the girl also of the Rock Edge party?"

He had gone rather white.

"No, certainly not," she answered quickly, and then blushed furiously as she saw his meaning; "you are quite mistaken," she murmured.

"Poor Kendrick!" he said, in a tone of deep commiseration. "Why poor? Indeed, he does not need any one's pity, I

assure you."

She raised her eyes and was astonished at the change a few seconds had wrought in his face. It wore an expression at once tender and amused and a smile illumined it like a flash of sunlight.

"But I do pity him," he persisted, leaning forward so as to get a better look at her, his eyes dancing. "You see, unfortunately I happened-er-to arrive at the door of the ibrary one night when you and he seemed to be having rather an interesting têteà-tête."

"I came to a wrong conclusion that night, thank God," he said earnestly.

Something-some sudden shy impulse made her rise and say she must go. She dared not raise her eyes, but she was happy.

"You had better have a hansom," he remarked, "then there will be no more chance of your being run over." He hailed one.

She held out her hand to North.

"I would rather see you safely home, if you don't mind," he said, and before waiting for her answer he sprang in and shut the door.

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Then :

"Nance," he said, in a voice which shook with the love and tenderness beneath it, "it is no good running away from me, because you see you can't get away from me. I love you. Dare I hope you can care for me?"

She could not speak, only she held out her hand to him in the darkness. He drew her into the shelter of his arms and their

lips met.

"Sweetheart!" he whispered.

For a long time she did not speak. At last the passion in her found utterance and all reserve was swept away.

"Oh, Rex, Rex, do you love me? Say it again!" she cried. And he said it.

"By the way," he said later, "you were speaking of the paper Variety. I know the editor."

"Really!" she said, roused to interest in something beside themselves at last. She tried to read his face, but the weather was against her.

"And is he interesting? He must be. I have had such kind, clever letters from him—indeed, we had quite a long correspondence on a variety of subjects."

Her companion grunted.

"Are you laughing?" she inquired suddenly.

"Oh, no, Heaven forbid!" said he, in a preternaturally solemn voice. "But would you care for an introduction to your editor?"

"Yes, indeed. When will you introduce me?" she asked eagerly.

"Now, this minute," said Rex. "Darling, forgive me if you can," and he drew her to him. "I have deceived you abominably. The man's name is North-Rex North! I can't tell you

what it has been to me to keep you in sight all these months and know your thoughts on things, but I have been a brute to deceive you."

A short pause and she burst into a ringing laugh.

"Oh, you villain, how could you? How cruelly you have 'had' me!" And then the colour rushed into her cheeks and "Now I understand it! I searched and searched

she burst out:

and often could never find my papers. half of them. It was mean—mean. humiliation of it," she moaned.

You never published the

I shall never get over the

"Oh, yes, you will-try," he said gently. And she tried.

"The house that Jack Built.”

By DARLEY DALE,

Author of "FAIR KATHERINE," "THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH," etc.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

ANOTHER MAIDEN ALL FORLORN.

THAT other was Miss Lydia.

The hope that had revived on the evening of Felix's last visit, only to be quenched as soon as the visit was over, had refused to be rekindled in her virgin breast, until, one day soon after the news of poor Amy's death reached the cottage, it again showed signs of life.

Miss Lydia had for days been pondering over Felix's conduct, and wondering why it was he had gone so far and then stopped short, when she overheard Miss Sophia remark to a friend:

"He is a very strict Catholic-far more strict, even, than his father."

That was it, of course. How stupid of her never to have thought of it before! The hitch was the difference of creed. No doubt Felix was bound down by no end of laws never to marry any one who did not belong to his Church. No doubt he considered her a Protestant: he little knew how very little difference there was between them.

So thought Miss Lydia, little knowing how very great is the difference.

The next step Miss Lydia took was to wonder, since the difference was so slight, why should there be any difference at all-why, in short, should she not become a Catholic? Every barrier would then be removed; and since she was now convinced this was the reason Felix had not proposed to her, she made up her mind she would do so.

This resolution necessitated a great many visits to the vestry, a great many interviews with the rector-all of which Miss Lydia

thoroughly enjoyed; also a great deal of controversial reading, which she did not enjoy at all. However, it had to be done; the rector positively refused to let her go until she had waded through several big volumes he lent her.

Miss Lydia was very naughty at this time. She frequently went to mass, and did not always mention it when she went to confession to the rector, which she still continued to do; but she was thoroughly enjoying herself, and in no great hurry to sever her relations with her Protestant director. That would be a great wrench, she told herself. There was no need for any great hurry, either. Felix was coming over again at Easter to stay with Mr. Lockwood. She would wait till then, and take the step she hoped would lead to her speedy marriage while he was in Jersey.

Miss Keppel was unaware of what was going on. She had been so shocked by Amy's death that she had taken very little notice of Miss Lydia's vagaries; and then, when Mr. Lockwood returned, she was very much occupied with him and little Gladys, whom she visited every day.

It was therefore somewhat of a surprise to her when one day in Easter week Miss Lydia said to her :

"Sophy, I hope it will not make any difference to you, but I am going to be received into the Catholic Church next Monday." "What do you mean, Lydia? For the last fifteen years you have been dinning it into my ears that you are a Catholic. What do you mean?"

"I thought I was.

But I know better now. I mean I am going over to Rome," faltered Miss Lydia.

"Oh! now I understand. Well, all I have to say is, if you do go, stay there; don't play with fire. Don't coquette with Rome, Lydia, as you used to coquette with men."

"I am never going to coquette with any one any more," said Miss Lydia.

"I should hope not; at your age it is time to give up such vanities, even supposing you could find some one to coquette with you, which I doubt."

"I have sown my wild oats. I am going to settle down," said Miss Lydia.

"I am glad to hear it; you have been a long time about it," returned Miss Sophia.

"Yes, but girls will be girls, Sophy."