whom Robert Mayne was forced to own his superior in education and refinement, in everything save an earnestness of purpose. He felt he depended only on the strength of truth, the superior simplicity and purity of his own doctrines; yet his perception of Talbot's character showed him that these more serious motives would have but little weight with him. Besides these, Mr. Mayne felt he retained a slight hold on Talbot's affections; still this was but small material to influence the volatile nobleman on whom church music and appropriate genuflexions had more effect than any true preaching and practice.

Poor Harriett had been scarcely roused from her dreary self-absorption even by the account of the fire which her brother came home and related with energy; all the interest it had for her was the mention of Talbot's name. She blamed herself for her selfishness. Perhaps, had she been less engrossed by her own thoughts, she might

have seen more of poor Mary Burrows, and stayed this ruin; she would shake off this wretched apathy, and try to exert herself to find out and help the poor woman.

With this determination, she got up early in the morning, and made her brother's breakfast, and saw him off; then she went busily about the town to make all possible inquiries; she visited the ruined cottage, and asked every one about her.

She came home late to dinner, with that dull pain about her heart, despite her efforts, had to bear with Mrs. Mayne's fretful anxiety about her husband, and her blame for what she chose to designate Harriett's interference in this "scandalous business," which was not proper even to reach the ears of a young girl-teazing stuff, which caused Harriett to put up many a little petition for patience.

The afternoon lagged wearily away, and Robert came not home, and Mrs. Mayne worked herself into a bad head-ache, while

Harriett steadfastly darned the little socks that always seemed in holes and in need of mending. Then, after tea-time, when Harriett, even, was becoming anxious, Mrs. Mayne indulged in hysterics at her sister's unfeeling nature, and after being attended to bed by that same sister, went peaceably to sleep; while Harriett, not able to bear sitting at home any longer, hurried out to see if she could ascertain anything of the whereabouts of her brother and the fugitives.

She took her way along the Lyton road, straining her eyes forward to see if they were coming. She was walking past the Greshams', when, unexpectedly, the clouds gathered, and a summer storm of rain and thunder burst over her head. She had no umbrella, and but a thin shawl, which she had caught up in her hurry; so she turned towards the doctor's friendly abode, where, through the splash of the rain and roll of the thunder, she heard a horse's feet coming

quickly after her. She looked round, the rain pelting in her face; it was not Robert, but, though she could scarcely recognize him, a conviction, unaccountable but certain, flashed through her mind that it was Talbot.

rows.

She paused, and standing at the edge of the road, waited for the approaching rider. Now she could reclaim her ring-perhaps, he knew something of Robert or the BurShe would ask him. Yes, it was he, riding fast and furiously, his coat buttoned up to his throat, his hat over his eyes. Harriett waited. He came nearer, she opened her lips to call him, but a second thought checked her; she wanted to see how he would call her, by what name he would address her. He was close beside her now, she trembled, and involuntarily she turned one step aside.

Talbot did not check his horse, did not look up before Harriett could move or speak, he had passed into the misty rain and

gathering darkness; only the sound of his horse's hoofs struck on her ear. Her heart, that late beat so high, fell lower and lower -it seemed to fall with the receding tramp. He, the man she had so loved, on meeting whom she had built so many fancies, had passed her that minute, had not seen her even! She was alone again in the drenching rain, more alone than ever, for hope was fast quitting its abode in her heart. She stood still for a moment, so thorough was her astonishment, so sudden the shock; then she hurried on faster than ever, with an angry thought in her mind he must have seen her, recognized her, and have passed her intentionally; he had changed to her, or rather this cruelty was his natural character; his tenderness had been but a caprice.

Harriett passed the Greshams' house— she felt she could not go in; their kindness and attention would annoy her just now; she could not chatter with Ethel on