"Well, suppose I do wish it undone-with all my heart!"

"Then we'll undo it!" Miss Dacre returned. And rising again, she quietly took Wilson's letter from my lady's hands, and placed it on the fire.

"Is that agreed?" the young lady said in a sweet, persuasive voice, as she watched the paper consuming.

"You really surprise me so much that I hardly know what I am saying; but one thing is uppermost in my mind-Herbert's happiness!"

"He'll tire of her, aunt, in three months. Did you ever know a man that made such a match take longer time to repent it? Did you?"

"Perhaps not; but—”

"Then that objection is more than met !"

"But there are points of honour!"

"Fiddlestick―more or less! Come, dear aunt," said Miss Dacre, observing that this ejaculation had hit rather too forcibly, and going to kiss my lady's forehead, remember we are women of the world-pardon me, I can't help repeating it—it is the only phrase. Your son's happiness, your own, mine, his— his children's, perhaps [prettily faltered], are all involved in this rash connexion, which must end badly, most likely in scandal. I would put my happiness out of the question-and the family credit is something to me-only then you would think me actuated by simple spite.* But I don't put it aside; I cannot and I will not! Now shall all this be endured for the sake of fine points of honour? There is no dishonour in endeavouring to recover what has been artfully stolen; and as for Charlotte herself, she is no more likely to be happy with him than without him. The match is sure to be broken by themselves some time and in some manner. I only propose that we choose the manner and await the proper time." "You have considered the means, perhaps?"

"Yes, and have prepared them. You had your scheme, dear aunt; don't blame me for having mine."

"First I should know what it is," said my lady, with an apprehension already that it would prove intolerable.

"You may not like it, but it is simple enough. I think I may be able to show that no such marriage ever existed-circumstances making it desirable of course I mean desirable to Herbert as well as to us; and those circumstances have yet to be prepared, it is true. But when that is done, all is done."

My lady made a rather unsuccessful attempt to smile as she said, at this“Adelaide, you must be joking. It is all nonsense! These plots are very well in novels-though, indeed, they are to be found in another kind of literature. But there they are more serious."

"To what do you allude, aunt?" asked Miss Dacre with matchless sang froid. "To reports of criminal trials, my dear! I really think this conversation had better go no farther at present. You are excited."

“Look at me, and see whether I am excited! Consider whether I at least am not too cool to be caught making material for a law-report! No, no! At any rate, now I have commenced my confessions, I will conclude them-think of them or of me what you will. For all legal purposes, Herbert's marriage is already cancelled!"

How near the truth was this? Spite is a powerful motive with some females.-NARRATOR

"What! in the face of the church-register, Charlotte's certificate, the priest that married them, the clerk that witnessed the ceremony! It is altogether absurd!"

"But if the clerk is dead, and a copy of the certificate substituted for the true one, and Mr. Wilson has disposed of the register, and does not remember ever to have seen Herbert or Miss Leeson in his life!"

"Is he such a villain ?"

"He is such a friend of the family!"

'Adelaide, say no more!-not another word! I am astounded at your wickedness!"

"Boldness, aunt! Pray don't be too hard on me!"

"But do you expect me to acquiesce in such a piece of business?" "Yes, if everybody consents to it!-if Herbert and Charlotte consent to it! Where is the wickedness then? You do me injustice if you suppose I have invented this plan for the purpose of tearing this-this simple girl from his arms. I am well aware that that would be audacious and dangerous indeed, and am not so rash as to forget that Herbert's unfortunate temperament would alone make such an attempt worse than foolish. Of course it would be fatal!"

"I think so, Adelaide !"

"But my―my idea has nothing at all to do with their separation. That must come about anyhow; and it will do them no more violence to promote it now-by gentle means, of course than before. But whether the end is brought about in the usual course in such matches, or by our assistance (you see I have no reserve!) my plan simply provides for all-what do you call it ?-technical proofs that a low, unfortunate union ever existed. Nobody will ask for them; but at any rate they will never turn up to make scandal.-Meanwhile, what harm is done if they never can be separated?—if I am obliged at last to put up with my injuries, and we have to accept as Lady Grovelly the granddaughter of a pig-keeper ?"

My lady made no answer. Miss Dacre continued advancing and taking her aunt's hand

"Am I so very, very wicked? Considering what I must feel, do you really think I am ?"

"I can excuse you, Adelaide !"

"And is that all? But I won't ask you now what you think of my plotting; still, do not forget that it was made by an outraged, desperate, broken heart! I don't think it so wild, and it must be harmless at the worst!"

Two pearly tears coursed down Miss Dacre's innocent but noble nose, and one fell on my lady's hand. Thereupon Miss Dacre sailed away; but she was heard running so rapidly upstairs that her aunt could only conclude that she was rushing into her room to relieve in secret her o'erfraught heart.

I may mention episodically-what it has to do with the story you may discover -that Miss Dacre did retire to her own room, but not to weep. Her proceedings there were simply to bathe her face in diluted eau-de-Cologne, to arrange her hair, and to swallow a few drops of another essence (also diluted) strongly recommended by her town hair-dresser for "lowness of spirits." Locking her door after her, she then sought the companionship of a gentleman who has little appeared in this narrative, for the obvious reason that he has little to do with it:

Sir Thomas Grovelly. She entered his room as placid as the west wind, and fell to conversing with him on gout. This was a subject on which he had much to say; and he had already taken down two volumes to illustrate his remarks, when on taking down a third, and remembering that Herbert had brought it from town on his last trip, he suddenly broke off into a question about a certain letter written by him to Mr. Leeson.

แ

"By the bye, you posted my letter, Adelaide ?"

Yesterday, dear uncle. But for pity's sake never let it be known that I meddled in this affair!"

"Pooh, pooh! who should meddle if not you? There, don't blush! Ah! Just hear what Dr. Fogo says! Totally in contradiction to my experience! Hum! hum-m-m- -!" Sir Thomas read from the work of Dr. Fogo. Dear Adelaide kept her eyes open, and never went to sleep a bit!

CHAPTER XVI.

IN WHICH MRS. HERBERT TELLS FIBS AGAIN.

THERE are some people who seem to use their wit as good husbands their money: they spare pence that they may spend pounds. One day we may see a man who notoriously grudges the half-crown he pays for a pair of gloves spend ten guineas cheerfully for a drawing-room bauble; on another we behold a man who never betrayed a spark of interest or design in the common pursuits of life, exhibit an extraordinary measure of both over a single plan, a single purpose. So it was with Miss Dacre; and the surprise occasioned by her little plan to Lady Grovelly contributed not the least element in its force.

But Adelaide was too ardent, too enterprising, too self-reliant to be content to propound the plan, leaving it dependent on my lady's acceptance. As we have seen, the preliminaries were all settled before she breathed a word of her designs; and not only these, but she had also been careful to take a first step toward "preparing the circumstances" under which they should work. Hence the letter which she had stirred Sir Thomas to write to Charlotte's father. She could not trust Lady Grovelly to begin the work, but that being begun, and the ball set rolling, she hoped my lady would find it at least as difficult to stop as to assist the game. That she, Miss Dacre, should be exposed by her aunt was out of the question. In all well-regulated families it is the rule that one or two members should suffer anything rather than all should be scandalized by public gossip. The proverb about washing dirty linen at home is improved in some houses; the linen is never washed at all.

Mrs. Herbert little guessed as she sat bravely on deck, watching over the nose of the vessel for Hamburg of her destination, what messenger had preceded her. Her thoughts were so happily diverted from her husband, so featly had her good dæmon turned his picture to the wall, that no new suspicion occurred to her about him or his family. Her wings turned from the too ambitious eyrie of her happiness, she thought only of it that she was flying from it, and less and less the nearer she approached the old sure nest of content. It was with a positive burst of joy that she beheld the land; and she set foot ashore with such a gasp of relief as an

exile breathes, when he finds himself safe on a strand where his pursuers cannot follow him.

Our poor little exile had no difficulty in finding the house where her father lay, but having found it, she did have much difficulty about presenting herself to him. She began to debate the question at the door, but her officious hand had rapped a summons before she had at all settled it. She started as a servant appeared before her. "Mr. Leeson ?" "Ah yes, mademoiselle!" "Is-is he-?" "alive" was in her thoughts, but how could she utter the word? Which the servant saw, and replied, "He expects mademoiselle-asks for her hourly."

Mademoiselle hurried towards the stairs; the servant glided before her, stopping at a certain door, at which he did not knock till he had held a finger up, something in deprecation, something in warning. "Come in !" cried a voice lusty in feebleness; but the man was in no hurry. He waited till he heard the nurse's footstep approach the door before he opened it to announce mademoiselle.

In another inoment Charlotte stood within the room-just within it, pausing to take one comprehensive, searching look at her father, who sat propped up in bed with his hand extended toward her. Whir!-what a rustle of woman's garments! Their arms are about each other, and one cries "My dear father !" and the other "My good little Charlotte !" and they are both weeping together. It is almost as good as what one sees at the play.

I have no pathetic picture to draw of what followed. You who have, or had, a father, Mademoiselle, may very well imagine it; only don't put in the colours too strong, because if you do the picture will be unlike the original. In fact, the old gentleman dropped to sleep within ten minutes of his daughter's arrival, and before as many sentences had passed between them. And when he woke half an hour afterward, nurse was gone, and there was Lotty quietly moving about the room in her home-like dress and in her home-like manner, so that anything like an affecting scene was impossible. Lotty did give a little start when she saw that some slight, undefinable change had been wrought in her father's appearance in his sleep, but the change was evidently for the better, so that only sct her more at her ease.

Of course there were lots of questions to be asked and answered. Charlotte was anxious to know all about the accident and the fever that followed, and how it had been treated, and so on: this occupied no long time. Still more anxiously did the father put his questions; indeed he looked at Lotty so keenly with his fever-bright eyes as he asked about the Grovellys-whether they had been kind to her, whether she had been much at the House, or the ladies often at the Millthat she had much difficulty in retaining her self-possession. As it was, she was too much confused to observe that her father did not include Herbert in his inquiries. "Because, my dear," he added, at last, "it is only fair that they should be kind to you, and should I be taken away, they are the only friends you have in the world. But don't make too free with them, my dear. They are high people, with high notions. You must remember I was once Sir Thomas's servant, as, if I had not been lucky, thanks be to God!-you might have been. If we forget that, they won't. And I don't know any reason why they should !" It was as well that the old man turned his face away as he said this, or he would have seen his daughter trembling from head to foot. Perhaps he feared to see something of the kind. "Ah!" said Mrs. Herbert to herself-"I did well!

Nobody knows about it yet-I must give him up-I must never see him again." With this strong shock she recovered herself.

The physician came. He said he was astonished at the improvement in the patient, and went away.

In silence, or in placid, common-place talk, the evening wore away. About nine of the clock father wanted Lotty to read to him, and asked for the black box. He opened it on his bed. I say no more of its contents than that they were two or three letters written before he was married; a "sampler," with a house, and a tree, and six flower-pots all of a row and quite as big as the house, worked in worsted by Sarah Saxby, aged nine years and four months; thirty-six golden guineas, the savings of Sarah Saxby, and her marriage-portion, in a paper parcel bound with a true-lover's-knot, just as Sarah had handed it to her husband on her wedding-day; a wedding-ring; a coral used to promote baby's teeth; two scraps of hair; and a Bible, purporting to be the gift of the said Sarah Saxby to her true lover, Edmund Leeson. Out of this Bible did the old gentleman request Charlotte to read; though why he should desire her to begin at the 1st chapter of Matthew, Heaven only knows. She read, and again he fell to sleep. Thereupon Charlotte herself sought rest, in a big cushioned chair-vice the nurse, intolerable.

In the middle of the night father awoke; and by some great sympathy so did Charlotte at the same moment. He wanted drink, and of course he had it; but it did not soothe him. He was very restless indeed.

"You are not worse, father ?" faltered our Lotty.

"Not at all. But," said he, making an effort to rise, and looking just a little wild, "I can't rest for a confounded letter, child, that came this morning, and lies under my pillow. Give it me, will you?"

Charlotte drew out the letter, and saw that it was directed in the hand of Sir Thomas Grovelly.

"Now, my dear," said Mr. Leeson, entering on the matter in his usual business way (which itself was rather alarming), "our neighbours are tattling, it seems."

"About

"About you. It's an idle tale; but idle tales are serious sometimes, and I can't have them told about my child. Sir Thomas writes me here an angrier letter than he ought, to say he is well informed that you are sweethearting with Mr. Herbert, that you two have been seen love-making in his plantation; and he says further, in his fine phrases (which won't prevent my talking to him roundly when I get back) what comes to this: that as he is determined to look after his sons, I had better look after my daughter.".

Lotty buried her face in the bedclothes. This was too much!

"You are shocked, my dear, and well you may be.-But [in a tender, broken voice] has there been any sweethearting, Lotty?—Tell me! I won't say it is so very wrong to meet and talk as young men and women do; but you know he cannot marry you, and I could not let you marry him against his family's will—no, not on any account! It would be clean against what I think honourable and right. People say already that I have fattened on Sir Thomas's folly, and I couldn't have it said that my daughter trepanned his son! But what am I talking of?-It's all an idle tale-all an idle tale, isn't it, my dear ?"