being in a medley that afternoon— I wished to avoid the world; so I threw myself on a bed of nettles, and called myself a fool.

'What's done, Charlie Blake,' I observed, 'can't be helped. For the future-' And then down below I saw Mary coming over the stile by herself, chopping off the heads of the flowers with her parasol. So I strolled down my bank, and met her.

'Hasn't it been pleasant,' she said (by the way, I thought her face looked very grave before she saw me-but I wasn't up to young ladies), and everybody charming?

'Meaning I suppose thereby Mr. Gushington?-to me he seems an insufferable puppy.'

If ever a girl who didn't talk slang said, 'Oh, you muff!' with her eyes, Mary said so then.

There are many things worse than puppies,' said Miss Murphey, colouring a little, and continuing to chop.

'I am down-don't hit me, Mary,' said I. 'Do you care for this redwhiskered fellow?'

They aren't red, Arthur-butno-I don't care for him' (a little scornfully), and we were silent.

How pretty she looked! I had made up my mind that I would go away without a word-but I could not-so I'did it.' I told her how I had come for the sake of the heiress who was to help us, and what a poor wretch I was, with a cartload of debts hanging about me-and how before the heiress had come, she being there-I-&c., &c., and how useless it was. But though I could not make love to her, I would not stay and make it to any one else. would leave to-night, and try if there was nothing else but an heiress who would help to roll this heavy load away from us.

I

Her blue eyes had a curious look in them when I paused. The worst had yet to be told.

'Arthur,' she began.

'Stay, Mary,' I said, and I felt a blush on my face,' I am not Arthur.' 'Not Arthur-not my cousin?' She started back as if she were about to cry out 'murder,' or 'Mr. Gushington;' but looking at me as a pre

liminary measure, seemed to reassure her. Then I told her the rest,-how Arthur had grown ill over the photograph, and I had taken his place. How every one had greeted me as Arthur, and I had been too cowardly to face an explanation. Then I asked her if she would not accord to Charlie Blake the grace she would have given her cousin? I had freely confessed

'And expect to be as freely forgiven, I suppose. Well, I don't see what else you can do, though it was very wrong. There is one condition, though, to the act of grace.'

'Well! What was it?'

'You will stay till Miss Mackenzie comes-for an act of penance. You are not obliged to make love to her, you know.'

'Thank you,' I said; for I confess to a feeling of disappointment at the cavalier way in which she had treated my offer. I felt piqued. What can a man offer more than his hand, even though that hand be an empty one?

She might be prudent; perhaps she deemed such a hopeless attachment not worth alluding to; still, though prudence is doubtless an estimable quality, yet a man may desire other qualities in his fair one. Something seemed to amuse her too. We were hardly out of the wood when, standing still, Mary burst forth into a peal of silvery laughter. I cannot help it, Arthur; pray forgive it.'

I felt angry in my heart at her; and I think Mary saw my disappointment and anger, as we silently joined the rest of the party. I was glad to get back-glad with a negative-gladness, when I put my companions again under the maternal wing. There was nothing more to be done now. I went upstairs and packed my portmanteau. This was the first time I had meddled with young ladies, and it should be the last. Oh, you wise Solomon! What a world this would be if your thoughts and your acts were the

same.

I had only to say good-bye to Aunt Thoroughgood (London being unable to settle its law-suits without me would explain matters in that

quarter), and to bid that-young person farewell-who would doubtless hold out her pretty hand, smile, and go out to gather violets with that puppy, Gushington, five minutes afterwards.

As I went downstairs a servant met me, not Saunders, but one of the housemaids, saying I was wanted in the library. Who is there?' I inquired.

Only Miss Mackenzie, sir,' Susan replied.

'Only Miss Mackenzie!' Well really this was making a dead set at me; she couldn't be going to propose!

I would represent my forlorn condition in very plain terms, if I saw a chance of it. Hang it! I wished I had gone straight off. I didn't wish Arthur at the Temple now.

I went into the room, but there was no one but Mary. Some one told me Miss Mackenzie had come,' I said. Thank goodness she isn't come-I hate seeing the woman.'

'Hate seeing the woman!' said Mary, with a little smile, which I couldn't make out, and a bright colour in her cheeks. 'Are you sure she isn't here, Arthur-I mean Mr. Blake-hovering about you in the shape of an invisible spirit??

For once in my life I stared.

You won't notice her,' she went on, 'even though she is before you. It was not fair that you should not be Arthur, and I myself. You are not like the knight in the fairy tale, Mr. Blake, who found out the lady even after she was changed into the cat, from the depth of feeling in her mews.'

'But the photograph?' I murmured feebly, not being myself. Indeed, an infant, so to speak, might at that moment have knocked me down. Who was that?'

'it was I-only done by an amateur.' (God bless him! I mentally added.) 'I stood too near-that made me look so gigantic, and then I moved -that deprived me of an eye.'

"We said you were like the Sphinx pyramid, Mary.'

Mary laughed. They said it was not like me, and so I sent it. I thought it would frighten all the crows away; and when I heard you were still coming, I thought I would rely upon it not being like me. I had a struggle with dear Aunty's idea of deceit. She has had many a sigh over me; but as the servants all call me "Miss Mary," I was safe; --and so and so I will forgive you for all the pretty things you have said of me to my face, and will never do so any more.'

And then I stood before her, not knowing what to say-wasn't the prize too great?

'Mr. Blake,' said Mary, coming towards me, and shyly holding out her little white hand (which it is needless to say was soon in another larger and browner one), 'you asked me something this afternoon-shall I answer it now?-or do you still "hate the woman?" '

Did I hate the woman? No, I don't think I did. I had loved her for herself, and she knew it-so I did not go away.