'You have changed your mind; you have given up all these old fancies, possibly?' asked Mr. Lloyd.

'No sir!'

May I ask, then, Robert (and mind you needn't answer if you'd rather not)—may I ask how you think this change will affect you with regard to her?'

I think it will play the deuce with me altogether, with regard to Elias, and everybody belonging to him,' answered Robert gloomily.

"You think it would not be right to her to say anything under these circumstances ? '

'I'm afraid,' said Robert, she would think I wanted to take advantage of their difficulties.'

'I think so too, Bob,' said the curate rising; 'and this is what I want to say to you-if you do think of speaking to Hirell, do so before they know of this. Now go and talk to Nest.'

CHAPTER XII.

BOD ELIAN.

BOD ELIAN (the abode or dwelling of Elias, an ancestor of the Morgans, from whom the house was named in the days of its prosperity) lay up the mountains on the right of the Capel İlltyd road.

Daniel Lloyd and Chamberlayne ascended the path through a thick wood, so thick that, in spite of the rains of yesterday, the ground they trod was almost dry, and crumbled under their feet.

This led them to the foot of another hill, one far more rugged and steep, where the wind blew fiercely, and the wild hungry-looking sheep tore great patches off their coats, and lamed themselves in getting to the little bits of stormblackened vegetation on which they fed with utmost wolfish voracity; looking up, some with half-threatening, others with pleading and pathetic faces, at the intruders crossing their wretched pasture.

'I know the poor fellow who rents these fields,' said Daniel Lloyd; his own food is as scant as that of his sheep.'

'Why doesn't he come to Kent?' said Chamberlayne. The other smiled without answering; and they went on till

they had left the sheep far below, tearing at the half-bald hillside, like ravenous children at the breast of a mother dead of famine.

And now the hill, as they continued to ascend, became more barren, and seemed leading to a region utterly destitute of all life and beauty, till suddenly there appeared before them, on the hill's summit, a fringe of foliage against the sky.

6

'I think,' said Chamberlayne, 'I know where we are.' 'Yes,' answered Lloyd, 'that is the garden of Bod Elian.' The very word garden' seemed strangely out of place. The garden of Bod Elian, looking at it from where they stood, far below it, had an ethereal, unreal aspect: its trees might have been but fringes of the dusky cloud that hung over them and seemed mimicking their shapes. The path did not lead them to this, but curved round the hill till they came to a spot where they could see the house of which they were in search, and where they had the garden below them on the right.

They were now descending a green sloping field, in which sheep and a few cows were grazing. Below this was another field, level and brown; and therein, with the garden trees on its right, and a wet heavily rutted road leading to it from the left, stood Bod Elian.

It was even more austerely simple than the Dolgarrog houses, as if its builder had had in his mind the thought, 'I want a house to shelter me from rain, and storms, and sun, and nothing more;' and had said to all manner of comfort and beauty, as Thomas à Kempis would have a true Christian say to happiness, 'I can do without thee.'

It stood alone, detached from the garden trees; and the sun, shining on its flat, dark face, took from it none of its coldness and solemnity. Some of the windows were open, but no snowy curtain or blind flapped in the breeze; the windows were dark, no brightness from within welcomed the brightness without. And the sunshine lay on the house-front, like a smile on a dead, stiff face.

As they came upon the road leading directly to it, Mr. Lloyd suddenly stood still; and Chamberlayne, looking at him inquiringly, saw a gleam of kindly emotion in his clear gray eyes. He looked in the direction of their gaze; and beheld, in the distance, on the slope of a stony field, Elias Morgan's new chapel; the roof just finished; a flag flying merrily in the morning breeze.

Robert examined it with his tourist-glass. There was no creature near, except a dog asleep upon some clothes of the workmen, who had probably gone to dinner. There was such an air of stillness around it as seemed to belong to a ruin rather than to a new building; and almost as a ruin the two visitors to Bod Elian, knowing what they did of its builder's fortunes, regarded it. It was a simple building-so small and humble that John the Baptist might have raised it in the wilderness, and preached there in his garment of camel's hair.

The two stood gazing at it silently.

And this was his great ambition,' said Chamberlayne, deeply moved; this is what we must show him to be his castle in the air.'

Daniel Lloyd did not make any reply as they turned towards Bod Elian. He was the curate of Capel Illtyd, and his feelings concerning this chapel were necessarily of more mixed a nature than Chamberlayne's. The bit of hardy colour on his cheek grew deeper as they approached the house.

'I confess to you,' he said to Chamberlayne, 'I feel anything but sure that my interference will be welcome to Elias.'

Look

'Oh Mr. Lloyd, but what is it to me?' cried Chamberlayne earnestly. 'I am more of a coward every step 1 take. at that flag; fancy them all going out to see it hoisted this morning; there's the new red waggon Hughes was speaking of, I suppose; and what's this? Oh, the two new rooms, see, built out at that end. By Jove!'

He slashed at the grass and weeds by the road with his stick, as if each thing he had mentioned had increased his indignation against himself and his unwelcome news.

'I am no longer in doubt, sir,' he said, suddenly turning to the curate and speaking in a low voice, 'as to what we were talking about. I will try and see Hirell, if you will talk with Elias a little while before he is told.'

'There's someone in the hall,' remarked Mr. Lloyd.

'It is Hirell!' said Chamberlayne, slashing away at the weeds harder than ever.

The ground was sodden, and their footsteps fell noiselessly upon it, so that they approached the door without being perceived by two persons just inside it.

These were Hirell and Kezia Williams. hall was crowded with large packages, and

One side of the

by one of them

knelt Hirell, drawing aside the cover to peep at the velvet cushion of the arm-chair it enclosed. Kezia was feeding some linnets in a long cage, and listening with a gentle flutter to Hirell's exclamations of delight. Though she spoke in Welsh, Chamberlayne knew the meaning of the girl's joyous tones too well; and concealed pity gave his own voice and manner a deeper seriousness and gentleness than he had meant it to show, as he entered the door, meeting her face to face, and calling her by name.

'Hirell!'

'Robert!'

And then he was holding her hand, listening without understanding, as she spoke apologetically of her coolness yesterday.

Hirell's mode of speech was peculiar. She was frequently seized by hesitation, almost painfully apparent in her face and manner, but she never allowed herself to go on speaking while this lasted. She would be suddenly silent and confused in the middle of a sentence sometimes; but during that silence, and while the listener pitied her, would recover herself, and then she would continue her speech with a grace and firmness, a sweet dignity of voice and look, that at times was noble.

'Nay, be not afraid for your child, my friend,' the old minister, Ephraim Jones, had once said, in reply to some tenderly expressed misgivings of Elias; her very voice speaks within her like the ringing of a bell that is sound.'

Robert Chamberlayne could hardly realise what it was, whether voice, eyes, old memories or new hopes, that charmed him so as to deprive him almost of the power of speech as Hirell spoke. He only knew that some strange spell was over

him.

'I am so glad to see you, Robert,' said Hirell; 'Hugh was afraid you would think we were not pleased to see you yesterday, but we were indeed-all of us were-but—'

She stopped as she noticed Daniel Lloyd talking to Kezia, and moved to him slightly, then went on speaking with quiet, genial confidence.

'You find us just at the beginning of a great change. But you knew. And have you thought about uss-did you fancy how all would be altered here ?"

'Well-yes-I supposed it would alter things for you,' answered Robert with a desperate effort.

Father,' said Hirell, is in the new parlour with Hugh. He is writing a letter to the master of the college where Hugh is going; and some other letters to friends he once knew in Loudon, and who have been very kind in their congratulations On this change.'

Oh!' said Robert, his gaze straying from the sweet direct eyes to the little fingers playing with a gold chain, the only bit of yesterday's finery Hirell wore this morning. Then your father is engaged just now ?'

'Yes, but not for many minutes, for he is expecting company. Mr. Ephraim Jones, the minister you saw us with yesterday, is coming to see the chapel, and to have prayers for Hugh. Kezia, won't you bring Mr. Lloyd in?'

She led the way as she spoke towards the old parlour, which Robert remembered well enough.

Mr. Lloyd did not follow them, but stood in the hall, talking with Kezia about certain poor people to whose houses they both were in the habit of going on the same errand.

It was a damp, faded, commonplace room into which Robert followed Hirell. The window was shut because Hirell's dresses were lying here. The table was covered with pieces of silk, and near it stood two chairs in which Hirell and Kezia had sat at work till the arrival of the new furniture.

Every bright ribbon and shining fold of silk added to the disturbance of Robert's mind. Presently Hirell said—

'I am to go to London for a little while, and one must do as other people, you know.'

As she sat down and carelessly took her work in her hand, Robert dropped into Kezia's chair on the other side of the little round table, and watched her nervously, feeling as if every stitch she set were a fresh knot for him to undo in this tangled web.

He looked at Hirell as she sat and stitched; and her hand, like a soft little bird held captive by a string, flew to and fro from her work; he looked at her, and all his honest wish was in his eyes.

Hirell felt his gaze on her face, and drew from it the knowledge that Robert found her much changed from what she had been when they were together last; and she knew 1 that the change was not for the worse, but was one of the delights which were just now being showered upon her.

beautiful; the knowledge was not new to her, but it