marry a servant maid; and Gregory, who thinks nothing of going wrong in money matters, will never forgive his father for the treatment of his mother."

we

"Ah, we all do it," said Dr. Sharper, "as Butler says,

Compound of sins we are inclined to,

By damning those we have no mind to."

It's all very well here; but do you know I often think that the deepest hell of a place of future punishment would be the enforced association with the sinners whose special sins you most despise. However, I must say I don't want the young fellow to marry Polly, and it struck me that perhaps a place might be found for the girl in town."

"By Jove!" said Draper; "I'll tell you what we might do; we might try Mrs. Masterton, for her daughter is going to marry a Mr. Blimber, and they will want servants."

"Is not Mrs. Crooney a servant of Mrs. Masterton?" asked Dr. Sharper.

"Yes. How do you know her?"

She came over with me last year from Cassel, and she and I got on very well together. I should not mind asking her. I saw her just now going downstairs here as I came up."

"Did you? I will ring and ask my man if she is here still." Mr. Grimes appeared and acknowledged that Mrs. Crooney was in the house, and was directed to request her to walk up.

"There's something up, Mrs. Crooney," said Mr. Grimes, as he gave the message.

"I'll keep my eyes open," she replied. "I will see you again when I've done upstairs.

"How do you do, Mrs. Crooney ?" said Captain Draper. "I think you know Dr. Sharper. Pray take a chair. We want to ask you a favour. We thought you might know of a place for a young girl in whom Dr. Sharper and I take a great interest."

"Oh, indeed," observed Mrs. Crooney. The tone of her voice. was eminently civil; but there was something in the manner with which she uttered these simple words that made the colour mount up in the Captain's face.

"The girl's name is Polly, and she is eminently respectable," he hastened to explain, "only she has never been in good service before. We thought she would be in such excellent hands, Mrs. Crooney, if you would take charge of her."

“Thank you, gentlemen," she replied; "but this is a serious matter. It's the character, you see!"

“Oh, I am sure Dr. Sharper would give her an excellent

character."

HH

"Is the Doctor a married gentleman?"

"No, Mrs. Crooney.'

"Ah, you see, that would not do. A gentleman can take away a girl's characier, but he can't give her one."

"Would a clergyman do?" asked Captain Draper.

"Oh, certainly, the best of references. Parsons are quite beyond all suspicion. What does the girl want to come to town for, sir?"

"To tell you the truth, Mrs. Crooney," said Dr. Sharper, "there is an old rascal down at Silverbeach who has set his eyes on the girl, and we want to get her away from him."

"I suppose she is very pretty, sir?"

"Why, Mrs. Crooney?"

Nothing, sir; only there's such a lot of elderly gentlemen taking of a fatherly interest in her! Not that I'm alluding to you, gentlemen; and if the clergyman gives the girl a character, I can give her a place as under housemaid tomorrow."

"Thanks, Mrs. Crooney, we won't forget your kindness," replied the gateful Captain.

Two days afterwards Polly arrived with a most satisfactory certificate, and obtained the vacant situation at Mrs. Masterton's establishment. Mrs. Crooney was kind to the young stranger, and asked her to take tea in her own room. She made many inquiries about Silverbeach and Dr. Sharper and Captain Draper, but could not find out much to the disadvantage of either of the gentlemen. At last she was obliged to ask the question point blank.

"What made you wish to leave the country, my dear?"
Poor Polly burst into tears.

"It's all along of Thomas, Mrs. Crooney."

Oh, Thomas, is it? I suppose that is the name of your young

man ?"

Polly was scarlet.

"His name is Henry," she whispered. dying, and I shall never see him again,"

"Then who is Thomas?"

"Thomas says he is

"He's the waiter at the inn, ma'am, and he's fifty if he's a day, and his legs are as crooked as crooked can be; and I hate him, ma'am."

"Well, Polly, you are safe here."

"Oh, I do hope so, ma'am ; but he's an awful old man! When he heard I was coming here he says to me, 'I'm going up to London in a day or two, Polly, and I'll give you a call. Mind ain't civil it will be all the worse for that That's my young man, you know, ma'am.

this,' says he, if you idle young profligate.'

'I can send him to jail whenever I like,' says he; 'and I will, too, if you ain't comformable !'"'

"Well, Polly, you seem a decent kind of girl, and I will be a friend to you. If that fellow follows you up just let me know." "Indeed I will, ma'am, and thank you kindly, too."

Mrs. Lumsden and her brother had no sooner settled at Silverbeach than Dr. Sharper thought it better to let Thomas know that young Gregory was to be called Mr. Mowbray in future. Thomas received the intelligence very sulkily. He said he had known it all along, and that anyone but a born fool might have known it from the likeness.

"You are in a bad temper, Thomas," said the Doctor.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but I am not in any temper at all. I don't mean to say I've got no cause."

"What's the matter then, Thomas?"

"May I ask you, Doctor, how you would like your young lady surreptitiously removed to another sphere just as you had made up your mind to marry her?"

"Thomas, if you had any sense you would be grateful to me for getting Miss Polly away. Don't you see I want to prevent that young fellow and the girl from meeting any more?"

"Then, Dr. Sharper, why didn't you leave the girl here, and keep the young man away? He ain't a credit to Silverbeach, is he? Now, I will just tell you, Dr. Sharper, I ain't going to be trod upon! I'm going to town, and mean to bring back a wife, and I think just for once I'll have the laugh against Mr. Gregory alias Mowbray !"

Mrs. Crooney had not long to wait before her aid was invoked by Polly.

"He's come, ma'am !" she said, as she entered the good lady's private room. "A little boy has just left this note, and he's a waiting for an answer round the corner."

"Let me see it, Polly.

MISS HOOPER.-You will please meet me to-night. Don't say no, or I am off to the police-station, and then it's all up with you-know-who. Come to me, who really loves you, and means to act honourable, which the other don't. Your own Thomas.

The old villain!" exclaimed Mrs. Crooney. "Look here, Polly, you just sit down and write what I tell you."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Here's pen and ink and paper, Polly; now then, begin-Mr. Thomas, I can't get out this evening, but if you try our area-gate at twelve to-night, it won't be locked, and I should not be surprised if someone was a waiting for you in the kitchen. Sign it Red Shawl.' He knows that shawl, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am; it's that caught his eye first."

"There, my girl, give the boy that."

"But please, ma'am, Ican't meet him in the kitchen. I can't,indeed. "No, Polly, but I can, and you must let me have that red shawl, my dear."

What were the horrid screams that resounded through the mansion of Mrs. Masterton that night? The domestics found Mrs. Crooney in hysterics on the kitchen floor.

"What is it, ma'am ?" cried the footman.
"Not fire!" screamed the upper housemaid.
"Not the police !" exclaimed the cook.

"Is it thieves?"

"What is it?" sobbed Mrs. Crooney, frantically; "it's a message from the dead! Look here !" she cried, as she held up a bit of cloth.

"Why," said the cook, "it's the tail of a man's coat. sent it, Mrs. Crooney?"

Who

"The dear departed!" cried Mrs. Crooney, as she went off again into hysterics.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

FULL CIRCLE.

THE day following that on which Mrs. Huntingdon discovered her husband's treachery, she had in a great measure recovered her usual manner. She accepted for herself and Florence, Mrs. Schlagenweit's renewed invitations that they should make her house their home until Mr. Huntingdon arrived.

Mrs. Huntingdon hardly knew why she did so. She scarcely formed any plans, but she yielded herself to the instincts which developed themselves as she brooded over her wrongs. She did not want to be alone with Florence. She could not discuss her husband's conduct with his child.

She checked the slightest allusion to the recovered certificate, and merely told Florence that she would herself retain it. It seemed natural to Florence that her mother should wish to do so; she had the greatest right to interpose between him and disgrace. She saw that her mother was dreadfully uneasy, and that her manner was greatly altered; but she said to herself that if her mother had much to forgive, he was most certain to be forgiven.

Perhaps the motive that actuated Mrs. Huntingdon, when she accepted Mrs. Schlagenweit's invitation, was a restless craving to hear more of Alice Chalmers.

When she was alone with her hostess, she always managed to turn the conversation to the story of the missing woman, and Mrs.

Schlagenweit thought it "very nice" of her guest to take such an interest in the melancholy family story. Now and then, Mrs. Huntingdon herself wondered how she could let Florence stay at Mrs. Schlagenweit's, after all that had passsed between her and Edward Chalmers. She tried to be indignant at the idea of the young man's presumption, in daring to fall in love with Florence; bnt it was all of no use, she could not rouse herself; the thing was done, if young Chalmers loved her first she loved him now, she was sure of that, and it was Geoffery Huntingdon's fault, “let him take the consequences," she said, "I shall not interfere." And then her thoughts flew back to her own great wrong, and she could think of nothing else.

'At last came the letter from her husband announcing his having started for Eichelskamp.

"I am afraid it will be late before I arrive, so on no account sit up for me."

This was the concluding paragraph of the letter, which she read over for about the twentieth time at eight in the eveningnot sit up for him? why, she felt as if she could never rest, until she had seen him once more She had told Geoffrey that she and Florence were stopping at Mrs. Schlagenweit's, but she had left word at the "Red Eagle" that she was to be sent for the very instant that her husband arrived.

It was nearly ten at night when the messenger came.

Mr. Huntingdon had been rather surprised when he heard where his wife and daughter were staying, but thought the matter of very little consequence, and hardly expected that his wife would come over at so late an hour.

He ordered supper and busied himself in looking over his rifles and guns, which was one of his constant amusements, when he had nothing else to do.

"Hullo, Emily," he said, as his wife quietly and unexpectedly entered the room. “I am sorry you took the trouble to come out to-night. Why, what's the matter? there is nothing wrong with Florence is there?"

"Nothing," she said, "at least nothing that you can help. Geoffrey Huntingdon, I have something to say to you; I shall not detain you very long."

Why, what on earth is this?" he exclaimed. can help? what do you mean?"

"Nothing I

"I mean to tell you! first of all, that I have made up my mind that Florence shall marry the son of the schoolmistress heredon't interrupt me, please. I know that it is not quite the match for a Miss Huntingdon, but I have considered all that carefully, and Edward Chalmers' shall marry Florence.'"