'She is gone with her work to Judy Griffith's,' answered Kezia.

'I thought so,' said Elias, a gloom overspreading his face. 'Mr. Rymer is standing at the door talking to some one.'

Judy Griffiths was the bedridden mother of one of Elias's labourers, and lived in a hovel above Bod Elian.

Kezia said nothing in answer to Elias's last statement, but bent over her knitting with a tender concern and perplexity in her eyes. Elias sat down just as he had come in from work, in his soiled clothes and wet boots. He laid his tall-crowned beaver hat on the table, and with his elbow on its wide brim leaned his head on his hand.

'Kezia,' he said, 'you are right. Wherever Hirell goes he follows her; and she-have you noticed her? have you watched her? does it seem to you as it does to me, that she is not herself when he is away? Yesterday when he went to Aber, do you recollect how dull and tired she seemed all the afternoon-and then in the evening did you notice her, Kezia ? '

The question was asked in a voice yearning for a denial of the thing it intimated, but Kezia's eyes looked into his, as they always did, with perfect truthfulness. Her looks at this moment sorrowfully confirmed his fears, while meekly claiming to share them.

I know she thinks a great deal of him, Elias. I used to think it was his book-learning only at first that made her brighten so when he spoke-but I'm afraid now,' and Kezia finished by shaking her head gently.

'He must go,' said Elias. 'He must go, Kezia. I must tell him so.'

Elias on saying this rose and went out, as he generally did when he came to any important decision; for, though seldom overruled by any of his family, he judged it best not to allow himself to be tempted by listening to their arguments. That night Mr. Rymer received notice to leave.

CHAPTER XXIX.

A FRIENDLY LETTER.

WHILE yet the annoyance of Elias's notice to leave was upon Mr. Rymer's mind, and before he had even attempted to think out the many embarrassing questions involved, he had another

surprise in the shape of a letter brought by the postman, addressed-Mr. John Rymer, Dolgarrog, but with a note appended in brackets [Inquire in the neighbourhood of the gold mines].

"Tis from Arnold! How on earth has he found me out?' Found me out! The words seemed to mock him with their double meaning. His cheek reddened as he remembered their last interview, and the falsehood he had told his friend about Mrs. Rhys. It was with no pleasure he began the perusal of the lengthy document.

'House of Commons, 186-.

'MY DEAR RYMER,-You will wonder to see yourself thus addressed: but your wonder will hardly be greater than mine in having so to write. Thus it happens: Our friend, Lord Bullyblow (to stick to the old name), has just been touring it through North Wales; and he tells me that one day he came somewhat abruptly on a gentleman lying on the sward and seemingly in a deep reverie, who started at the intrusion, and looked disturbed as he turned away. Our noble friend apologised-received a polite bow in acknowledgment—and saw nothing more of the musing solitary, except his back as he walked off. Bullyblow is great in the knowledge of backs. He swears he can tell any man whom he has once known, no matter how different or disguising the address, by the look of his back. And thus he declares the owner of that back was Mr. John Cunliff.

He thought he would ask a question about the stranger at the toll-gate near; and learned he was a gentleman who looked after speculations in gold mines—his name Rymer.

'He said nothing till he saw me then swore that Rymer was Cunliff; and wanted to set me talking as to the possible meaning of such an incident.

'I told him what you had told me: that you were going to the Continent; that I had never known you lie, no matter what the temptation, even if one of women, and therefore he must be mistaken. He hemmed and laughed, and so the matter passed off.

'And now, old fellow, if this notion of his be true, you must let me speak my mind.

'It is already known that something serious has occurred in the R family. R- has again gone abroad. Mrs.

R― has gone to reside with her gouty uncle; and all this happens just after the former had returned full of honours and of years to enjoy what of life might remain in the solace of home, and the affection of one of the most charming of women. 'And now Bullyblow seems to complete for me the story! I may now also tell you that when we talked before I was in deep concern about this matter. I had heard more than I cared to repeat to you. I thought the abrupt hint I gave you, taken in connection with the new career I tried to open might suffice to turn the tempter away. I have no notion of men preaching to one another, and so I hoped even my slight touch, as from a friend, might benefit.

to

you,

'Nor shall I preach now. I only want to say to you-and now I talk to Mr. Rymer-that if you have irremediably injured this hapless lady, you are. Well, I won't put the word in-fill the place up yourself; but, by the Lord, you can't put in one too black, too terrible, too branding. But no, Cunliff, I cannot-can NOT think you so great a scoundrel! So for the present let me preserve my old faith in Cunliff, while I abuse the, I hope, imaginary villain Rymer to my heart's content.

'There, old fellow, I have said what I felt I must say—and now for a different tune.

'Do you remember observing to me, in our last memorable talk before your departure, that politics didn't interest you, and your bidding me wait till the close of the American war. "If," said you, ," the North wins, there'll be a tremendous shaking of the dry bones all over the world sooner or later—and then perhaps "

'The war is over, substantially. Lee is a prisoner. The North has won. Already in England the dry bones do shake, and so we get to the highly suggestive perhaps.

'Jesting apart-Cunliff-has not the time come? Is not the era of laissez faire, and of expediency, and of government by ear tickling, dying or dead at last? Look around you and answer. Look at your own university, Oxford. Try, if you can, to conceive the magnitude of the change there. The boldest democratic and religious theories springing from the place that was once the very citadel of aristocratic belief, and prejudice, and routine-alike in religion and politics. ordinary times it is through our young men all great changes Their as yet unspoiled faith and instinct give the

come,

In

necessary strength and momentum to the movements which their elders have thought out, waited, yearned, and struggled for.

'The young men of Oxford are, I hear on all sides, growing up in the light of new thought, in the warmth of new desires. Of course you know the sort of men I mean. Not the emptyheaded fox-hunting country squires, and game-preserving justices of the peace, in embryo, who make up so large a numerical proportion of the whole-but the men of mark, of ability, our future statesmen, bishops, law lords, philosophers, doctors, authors, and musicians. The men from whom these come-our mental aristocracy-are feeling the ground-swell, and being carried off their feet, intellectually speaking; though knowing not yet in what direction to go, or to which men they should look as men who can guide.

Do you feel nothing responsive as I tell you this?

'Listen, then; I am going to speak to you of something that interested me, and perhaps may interest you, particularly if that bird of evil omen, Rymer, is not just now at your elbow.

'A dozen or so of us have been lately meeting together almost nightly, since we began to see, or fancy we saw, our time coming. All sorts of discussions have taken place, all sorts of theories have been ventilated, most comprehensive tables of statistics duly set forth with scientific and laborious accuracy; the phenomena of life, society, government, international relations, in the gross and in detail, glanced at-and all to what end? Why simply to muddle those of us that really did believe in and desire to see some way through so much intricate ground; and to confirm the obstinacy of the others, who stick to the old liberal formulas, and think all that is wanted is to perfect the structure by wider suffrage, and the ballot, etc., etc., and then to improve the end sought, the general well-being of society, by a few measures of practical importance in the interest of the great bulk of the people. But no reorganizing, no revolutionizing-only safe and steady progress. In fact, doing as we have doneperhaps a little better, perhaps a little worse, but substantially

the same.

This last party was about to triumph, when lo, a new actor appeared in the field, and changed the fortunes of the campaign:

'Mr. Sillman, a brother M.P., whom you must know as the most cruel torturer of an Admiralty that ever a Providence, whom we must still think to be benevolent, inflicted on a first lord, this gentleman, who had listened, according to his wont, in silence, except when figures were in question, and then dominated alike us and them-he now produced from his pockets, in his usual quiet, penetrating, undemonstrative way, a paper, which he said had been put into his hands, and which he thought it might be worth while for us all to read.

'We happened to be just then in the mood to snatch at anything. Sheer despair of ourselves made us ready to welcome any interference, however unlikely, that still had the audacity to promise.

'Mr. Sillman accordingly, at our request, read the paper, of which I shall give you briefly the substance, stripped of the very striking garb it wore. In truth, Cunliff, it was wonderfully eloquent without being rhetorical. It impressed you, at every sentence, with the idea that the author was himself so deeply smitten with the force, beauty, and significance of his own faith, as to be afraid to compromise it by the least taint of literary display or affectation.

'Speaking from memory, I cannot if I would give you any notion of the real power it exhibited, notwithstanding this restraint, and I would not if I could; because I want you to see the bottom of the thing at once, and then judge. I have seen enough of pretty-looking theories. So now, however much I admire the original shapes, I invariably gut them, and then I can say something about their insides.

'The leading point, then, is this-that a profound vice lies at the root of our method of government, and that hence flows its failure to compass the ends of government for any but a small portion of the people, even if-which the author doubts that portion does get the benefit it thinks it gets.

This vice is, he says, the making government a thing for aggregate society rather than a thing for individual man.'

'Hollo! What the devil's this!' exclaimed Mr. Cunliff, stopping in his perusal of his friend's letter, staring at it, turning the leaves over to the last page with an odd mixture of surprise, incredulity, and amusement in his face; then settling himself with quickened interest and curiosity once more to the letter.