been good friends, and I'm sure there's no one in all the world I could trust better than you."

His heart gave one great jump, and his big rough hands closed over her slender fingers.

And then it was all right, and they sat in the window-seat, holding each other's hands, and talking as freely and naturally as if they had been recognized lovers for the last year or more.

Only Harry forgot all about the handles to the cupboard door which he had promised Luke to finish that evening, and Essie folded away the tablecloth without seeing that she had omitted to mend one large rent in the middle.

But before

long Harry had to go, for he was to see the squire's bailiff that evening, and give him a final

answer.

And then Essie thought she would take a little turn through the fields, partly to calm her thoughts, and partly in hopes of meeting Margie returning home.

She was not mistaken, and had not gone many steps when she saw Cornelius Maynard and her sister standing together, apparently in earnest conversation, at the gate beyond the paddock.

At the sight of Esther's approaching figure, the young man turned on his heel, and soon disappeared behind the trees. Margie, thus left alone, walked slowly up the hill, and a few minutes

brought the sisters together. There was a shadow on Margie's brow, as Essie soon detected, and she looked so thoroughly vexed and put out, that Essie could not help saying—

"What is the matter, Margie dear? Is anything wrong?"

'Nothing," returned Margie, in a hard tone; "nothing at all. Only he has lamed his horse, and we were both rather cross. But it's not worth talking about."

"Is that all?" said Essie, relieved to hear this, and feeling sure that so trifling a misfortune could not affect such happiness as hers. "I came to meet you because I had some news to tell you— something, Margie, that will surprise you very much. I am going to be married, and it's to Harry."

Margie started back, and gave a scream of surprise. “Well, I wonder what will happen next. Tell me all about it-quick, Essie, for, of course, I'm dying to hear it.”

And she flung her arms round Essie's neck, forgetting her own cause of vexation in her sister's joy.

"It's not so very strange, after all," she said, when Essie had finished her story. "It's natural enough he should love you, I'm sure, Essie, although of course I shall never think there's any one in the world who is worthy of you. But I don't

grudge you to him altogether, for he's a good little fellow, and I believe he'll make you happy."

Essie looked as if she, at least, had no doubts on that score.

"Perhaps we shall be married together, after all," said Essie, as they walked home with their arms twined in each other's. "Only it would be rather

sad for father to lose us both at once."

"You need not be afraid of that," said Margie gloomily. "I begin to have serious doubts if I shall ever be married at all."

"Don't say that, Margie dear," said Essie soothingly. "If you both care for each other, things are sure to come right in the end. I am sure if poor old Miss Fairbairn knew you, she would never have the heart to hold out so long."

Margie's only answer was a sigh.

She was beginning to find that even Love's path did not always lie through flowery meads, where daisies and buttercups sprang up underfoot, but along waste places and barren hillsides. That very afternoon she had been urging Cornelius to lay the case before Miss Fairbairn, and at least remove the necessity for concealment, which was beginning to gall her. Unluckily Cornelius, who was quite as much afraid of his brother as of Miss Fairbairn, could not at all see the matter in the same light, and being already out of temper

because the chestnut had fallen lame the day before, gave Margie a cross answer. Margie had retaliated with sharp words, and the lovers had parted without having made up their quarrel.

And now the sight of Essie's deep tranquil joy made Margie feel the vexation Cornelius had caused her the more acutely, and she could not help drawing a contrast between Harry's honest, straightforward conduct and her own lover's behaviour. It was the first cloud which had come between them since the day of their happy meeting in the Lady-ground, and so deep was the shadow which it cast over Margie's brow that it cost her an effort to rejoice unselfishly in Esther's happiness.

W

66

CHAPTER XVI,

Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more;
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot on sea, and one on shore;

To one thing constant never."

SHAKSPEARE.

HILE spring was once more waking fresh gladness in outward creation, and young folks in King's Marden were in

tent on marrying and giving marriages, Miss Fairbairn felt the beneficent influences of the more genial season, and became conscious of returning strength in her palsied limbs.

This time she had suffered from a long spell of illness and was growing heartily tired of her imprisonment. At length, one afternoon she told Molly to reach down the ivory-handled stick which had belonged to her father, and help her to see if she could not stand.

The attempt succeeded better than might have been expected, and the old lady proceeded to make