the distance of half an hour's walk of the place where Mr. Rymer was to meet his friend the steward.

They got out, the driver was told to stay till they returned, and Hirell gazed curiously about over the broad undulating scenery.

Her eyes fell upon a grand-looking old tower that seemed to issue from among the trees at some distance.

'Is that a church?' asked Hirell.

'That is the old keep of Werge Castle, the place to which we are bound. Come.'

'And to whom does it belong?'

'It did belong to one who lately died; who the heir is I am not prepared to say. You see the flagstaff on the keep ?' 'Yes.'

'There would be a flag flying from its top if the owner were at home, so we are not likely to be prevented seeing the place.'

The winding road they were pursuing-a private one-was so constructed, so veiled in parts, so opened out in other parts, that at every turn some new view of the castle presented itself; and Hirell could not but exclaim with delight at the continued changes, and the growing developments of the picture as they went on.

They are now stopping to gaze at the first view they have been able to get of any considerable portion of the pile. They see water of some breadth, a bridge across the water, an entrance gateway consisting of two strong towers, and a portcullis gate between; the whole, with the keep in perfect preservation towering beyond, presenting the aspect of a noble mediæval fortress, standing within its own moat.

Presently that view is hidden, and a new one gradually comes into play. It is a long castellated front, some of the high arched windows showing the sunlight through their ruined state, but the whole wonderfully picturesque from the beauty of the architecture, and the ivy that clothes it.

Again, as they move on, the trees shut out the pile, till they come to a spot where the entire structure comes into the line of vision; but where the barbican towers, the embattled and ruinous front, and the keep over all, are softened and in part hidden by the modern front which here challenges attention; not only by its own stately beauty, but by the happy art with which the new architecture seems artistically to echo the old, without losing any of the characteristics required for modern ideas and habits.

But it is hardly these features which impress Hirell the most; she sees their magnificence, but it is, as it were, afar off; there is something nearer her heart in that which lies between her and the gracious stateliness of the new façade.

She and her lover stand on a little hillock, looking down into one of the most perfect gardens that poet or painter ever conceived as a part of a real work-a-day place of recreation for men and women—one where dreams must be realisable to be of any value. It was not the beauty of the lawns, the colours of the flowers, exquisitely as they were arranged, the individual forms of solitary trees remarkable for their elegance of foliage and rarity, the broad lake and its islands, but the consummate art with which you were led on from one kind of beauty to another; from the unpremeditated wildness, as it seemed, of the glades behind where the lovers stood, surrounded by magnificent forest-trees of almost preternatural height and size, and where the scenery around was almost too grand and primeval-looking to be called park-it was, we repeat, the art with which you were led on, step by step, the wildness decreasing, the culture increasing, till you rested at last on the parterres and lawns about the castle base; and felt that the refinement without must be intimately allied with the refinement within; the one a kind of repetition of the other-God's work in the flowers and gardens, becoming a standard and guide for man's work in the saloons and chambers; the same life inside and outside; life in luxury, redeemed by consummate taste and poetic refinement, that gave nameless charm to everything.

Hirell's joy became almost pain. She sat down on the grass, forgot Rymer, Elias, Hugh-forgot everything in gazing on the picture before her, which was too brilliant, too rich, too full of parts, and altogether too baffling in its witchery, for her to understand one bit of the details, or to guess even what skill, time, money, and devotion must have combined, before Werge Castle and the gardens, as she now saw them, became possible. Amid the dazzling glory of the whole, there were only three things she could fix on- -a little pond full of waterlilies in bloom, a long bank of scarlet rhododendrons that formed the boundary in a particular direction at the edge of a precipitous hill, and an arcade of rose-trees.

Come, Hirell, we have little time to spare,' said Cunliff,

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who watched her unceasingly, and took now a malicious pleasure in breaking in upon her reverie.

She turned and looked at him for a moment, as if she did not see him through the golden haze that affected her mental eyesight; then became conscious, smiled, rose hastily, and again stopped, and said with a profound sigh

'I do not think it would be good for me to stay long here.' 'Why?' demanded her lover.

He watched her while she stood considering her answer, as she nearly always did consider her answers to him; sometimes taking so long about it that he perceived the current of her thought was quite changed during her consideration. It was so now. He knew that if she had replied to him quickly, she would have spoken of the hard contrast between this place and Bod Elian. In those moments of silence, however, that thought and its sadness was swept away from Hirell's mind; and lifting her eyes to Rymer's, she said in a voice very sweet and tremulous

'I had forgotten. What contrast can hurt me now?'

And the great dilating eyes, almost divine in their pure truthfulness, let Cunliff read in them how he had become much more to Hirell Morgan than home and kin, than the scenes so loved from infancy, than the little chapel so venerated, the much-reverenced ministers, the sweetest, most holy recollections of the past, than all these he was dearer-her eyes filled with tears of tender shame as they confessed how much, how very much dearer.

But they did confess it; and whether he felt, as many a better man might have felt, a sense of his own unworthiness; or as many a worse man might have felt, exalted and purified by the confession, he could not answer her in words or by looks, but could only lift and touch her hand with his lips, and hold it almost timidly as they walked on in silence.

They were passing down an incline between banks, and under an arch, from which they emerged into a bit of wild, rocky scenery; a very small but very perfect imitation of those little rifts or ravines one finds so often running down the slopes of Welsh mountains, water running along the bottom, the banks on each side falling back a little, but reaching across to each other by means of tree-branches, and long shoots of shrubby spray, the home generally of some of the most beautiful of ferns.

It was a fernery Hirell looked on, and there was something in it that affected her strangely. Her eyes gleamed.

'Ah!' she said, 'this is sweet. There is a place quite near our house just like it. I know where every one of these ferns can be found in it.'

Two or three minutes brought them to some outlying but connected portion of the castle. Cunliff knocked gently, the door opened, and a gentleman stood before them, who immediately and very warmly welcomed them.

Hirell could not but notice with a secret thrill of pleasure the deep, almost profound respect Mr. Jarman showed in look, tone, and gesture, to her lover, in spite of the familiar tone of equality that marked his words. It was the first opportunity she had enjoyed of estimating how the world looked upon the man who was so dear to her, and it was decisive.

Mr. Jarman led the way to a banqueting-room, where the walls were decorated with pictures of great size, which instantly attracted Hirell's gaze, though she scarcely dared to venture to ask questions about them. Her heart was already full, too full for her to preserve the equanimity she desired; and now her head began to turn dizzy with the novelty of all about her, for she had never seen anything of the kind before.

Refreshments were on the table ready. No servants appeared, for none were needed; and the viands were so various, so full of delicacies for the appetite, and all so strange, that she felt she should be able to eat nothing, and began to wish for a quiet meal after the fashion of Bod Elian.

But Cunliff understood in part her difficulty; and in tending her, conveyed in an unobtrusive manner to her sufficient knowledge of the things offered to enable her to enjoy herself and satisfy her hunger, for she soon began to discover she was hungry.

Mr. Jarman and Cunliff withdrew for a few minutes, to deal, as the latter said, with the business that had brought them together, and she was left alone.

The solitude was an immense relief. She rose, moved a few steps, as if to realise the feeling she was for the time once more free, then in a calmer mood began to study the pictures on the wall.

Cunliff returned alone, and said Mr. Jarman had given him carte blanche to take the young lady over the house without the annoyance of a companion.

'He seems a dear, charming person,' said Hirell wistfully, as if hoping Cunliff would speak of their relations; for she

thers must know of

there was someTo show so little des towards his friend. 1. 1. Cunliff directing Vulch & man of his own

mosaic let into the centre of the pavement of the entrance-bal., and which had beer fount on the esan, the ran atmont ranged along the walls of tut maronetry, the rare china, brondes, and articles of 1. the stendit suite of recep‐ tion-rooms: the pictures in the chambers, some of which he, in the inmate delicacy tim stil sued n hin. when in presence of womary purity, took eros tant sin should not see; the frescoes in the bullru-roon., the bal-room, and the music Bar001, or theatre: DET Hoel., whle listening with all possive attention, rapt at times in his words when some fine thought dropped from him muconsciously, found her eyes drawn in spite of herself to the more visible and material splendours of the place.

She was trying to realize the life of the mistress of such a place, the liveried servants, the reception of the guests, the dresses, the jewels, the beauty, the youth, the distinction of the bright and happy ones assembled in that exquisite drawing-room and alcove she had passed through, the government of so many people, the order required in so magnificent a home; and the result was that one bright vision after another kept pressing on through her eager and yearning brain, but leaving nothing clear or definite behind, except the sense of a lovely chaos.

One natural bit of pleasure, one quiet, pure bit of enjoyment stood out ever after to her as a remembrance of the eventful day, It was Cunliff's pause in the business of teaching, and explaining, and suggesting, when he discovered, to his amusemont, that Hirell wanted him to show her how to play the game he said was so fascinating-billiards. He did so. They spont perhaps ten minutes there together, laughing at every unlucky plunge of the cue from Hirell's charming hands, till the cloth was out, and the bit of sunny, pleasant life ended— for ever, as far as these two were concerned.