a tall young man, and with a red-headed youth steering, like a stout personification of " pleasure at the helm." As they passed the Grauge the fat youth, becoming careless, pulled so recklessly at the rudder that he ran the boat aground.

Lancelot Treherne quietly got the boat afloat again, evidently too much accustomed to such proceedings to trouble himself to reprimand his companion.

"What a pretty old house! Do you know who he began; but stopped short as his upturned glance met a pair of lovely blue eyes gazing down from an open window.

In spite of a university education, and his twenty-three years, Lancelot Treherne, so far forgot himself in his admiration that he could not withdraw his eyes from the picture before him framed in the window; the little head crowned with masses of wavy goldenbrown hair, the regular features, long, dark eyelashes resting on a transparently white cheek, and the dreamy smile hovering round the "perfect lips :" all stood out against the dark background of the room with such beauty, that Lancelot Treherne certainly had some excuse for his rudeness; but the picture suddenly vanished, and he awoke from his trance of admiration.

"Good Heavens, Dent! tell me who is that wonderfully lovely girl?" he said, working off his excitement by rowing tremendously hard.

Robert Dent lifted eyes slowly from the contemplation of his nails, and answered with most irritating deliberation-" Don't excite yourself, my dear fellow : it is only pretty Miss Cicely Vane looking out of her window. I thought her a nice little girl last year; she does not bother one to talk, that is one great point in her favour. I never speak to her, of course, the conversation of young girls of her age is too insipid; a woman like Georgie Armstrong is far more amusing to talk to."

"What a loss for Miss Cicely Vane, to be deprived of your admiration and intellectual small-talk! Do you know, most aged youth of nineteen, I strongly suspect that she has nipped your young affections in the bud, and that is the reason you are so bitter."

The mild sarcasm in this speech was quite lost on Robert, for he always took everything quite literally.

Not such a fool !" he answered angrily, "I know better than to trouble myself about a little bread-and-butter miss of seventeen, a mere child, who has never stirred from this dismal hole in her life, and she reads Political Economy!" The last grievance was utttered in a tone of the deepest disgust. "I like her fat aunt a hundred times better; she is a very sensible woman-inakes the best vol-au-vent I ever tasted, I do assure you! It is a mystery to

me how she could have learned to cook so well with so few advan. tages."

Treherne burst into a roar of laughter, "What a fellow you are for eating! Beware, my beloved Robert, or before you are twenty your lovely form will lose its symmetry, and then what will Miss Georgie say?"

"Ob, Georgie likes a man to be strong and stout, and really after reading all the morning with Mr. Armstrong, one requires some amusement and support, so I often call on Miss Barbara Vane about luncheon time, and she feeds me on the fat of the land."

"Now tell me about these Vanes, I am awfully curious to hear something of their history. Who are they?"

"There is not much to tell. Miss Barbara Vane is fifty, has a great weakness for slumbering at all times and in sundry places—no particular ideas of her own, which is not at all a bad point in a woman; for what do they want with ideas of their own, indeed."

"Come, Dent," said Treherne impatiently; "I don't want to hear any more about this pattern woman. Tell me about the family, my good fellow."

"Her only brother was the owner of a good estate that had belonged to the Vanes for generations; but he was a bad farmer and fond of the turf, so he muddled away all his capital and sold his land. He died twelve years ago of heart-disease, leaving his only daughter, Cicely, to the care of Miss Vane. Now are you satisfied, Treherne ?"

"I suppose, then, from your account, they are not well off?" "Not what you would call rich, you son of Croesus! The aunt and niece have about £200 between them, and the old Grange; and as they never leave the village, that is quite enough to keep them comfortably."

Silence fell on them, Dent resumed his meditations on the per. fections of charming Georgie Armstrong, a mature damsel of twentyfive who had enchained his youthful heart last Long; and Treherne rowed on silently, with a thoughtful expression on his face.

In the oak-room at the Grange stood Cicely Vane, with anger at the recollection of the bold gaze of admiration she had met from those dark eyes. No one had ever looked at her so before; Mr. Armstrong often looked at her very kindly, but he was quite old, almost forty-that was quite different; but this stranger-

A maid suddenly put her head in at the door, and disturbed her meditations. "Please, Miss," said the head, "Miss Armstrong wants to see you," and vanished again swiftly. Cicely ran down the creaking stairs, and passed like a beam of light through the dark. passages into the room where her visitor awaited her.

A short girl rushed towards Cicely, throwing down several

chairs on the way, like a whirlwind in petticoats, and gave her a tremendous shake of the hand." How are you, old girl?" roared Georgie Armstrong, with the voice of a stentor.

Cicely began some polite inquiries about the health of her mother and uncle, but Georgie soon cut them short. "I've come to tell you some jolly news! You know Bob. Dent, Uncle George's pupil, came back the day before yesterday; but you don't know that an Oxford chum of his came after him yesterday, to cram for his degree. Now, isn't that news, Cicely? and shall not I have larks when uncle's back is turned ?"

Georgie seated herself in the attitude that is assumed by a gentleman on horseback, and appeared radiant with satisfaction.

"I don't think you ought to go out leaping ditches with Mr. Dent, and rabbitting. Your mother would not like it if she knew what you did last Long."

"Oh, bother! I don't mind her, or uncle either, except when he is in a jolly rage!"

Cicely knew Georgie's peculiarities very well; so she understood that when that damsel said "Bother!" it was no use attempting to lecture any more; therefore she judiciously changed the subject.

"Is Mr. Dent's friend going to stay here ?-By the way, what is his name?"

"Only about six weeks I believe; Dent says Lancelot Treherne is such a lazy fellow that he would not work any longer, though he is clever enough for anything-why do you blush so, Cis. ?"

"Oh nothing, I was only amused at hearing such a name."

"Very silly, is it not! Well, this chap came down yesterday, as I said before, and brought a most splendid boat with him, much better than our old tub and your little cockle-shell! I hope he will ask me to row in it, our boat is too heavy; it makes my arms ache," and Georgie stretched out a pair that might have moved a blacksmith's heart to envy."

"Do you think you will like Mr. Treherne as much as you Mr. Dent, Georgie?" said Cicely smiling.

do

"Don't chaff a fellow!" answered the bashful damsel. "I know Dent is fond of me, and I like him too-and would like him better if he was not so fond of shirking rowing; but he is nineteen and I am twenty-five, so our ages don't suit as well as our dispositions. A great pity! But Dent is a hundred times nicer than that stuck-up swell, Treherne, who pretends to be astonished when I say what I think to uncle!"

"Well, you may be friends later, when you are more used to each others' habits and customs. You know, Georgie—”

"I must be off in a minute, for I am going ratting, on the sly, with Dent at five; and it is ten to five now, so good-bye, Cis."

"Well, good-bye, if you will go so soon," said Cicely, feeling very hypocritical. "I wish you would stay a little longer."

"Oh, hang it all! if I've not nearly forgotten to tell you that you must come to tea to-morrow at six. I must go now;" and she was out of the room and striding down the garden-path before Cicely had finished her speech of polite acceptance.

"Lancelot Treherne!" thinks Cicely, as she stands drumming on the window-pane with her little fingers. "He must be delightful with such a name. I hope he will not be too grand to speak to me to-morrow-I am afraid he will. Grand gentlemen don't care to hear country girls talk; and I am so stupid, I have never talked to any amusing people, never been to the opera or theatre, and never danced. Oh, how horrid it is! I am only a stupid country girl, with nothing to talk about. He will say to me 'Miss Vane, have you heard Patti in 'La Sonnambula ?'' and I shall have to say 'No.' Then he will say, 'Have you been out many seasons?' and I shall say 'No.' And so on, until he will think I can only say one word. I have nothing to talk about."

Innocent little Cicely heaves a deep sigh and looks down; her eye catches her dress, and it shares in her displeasure

"Why, I am not even properly dressed; my skirt is quite oldfashioned-Mr. Treherne would laugh if he saw me in it. How lucky it is that I have my muslin dress quite ready to wear! but still I have no doubt I shall look ridiculous enough in it."

She need not have entertained this fear in her mind, if she had only known what a pretty picture the round mirror on the wall reflected; the slender, graceful figure in a plain grey dress, with a muslin frill close to the white throat; with an innocently troubled expression in her eyes, she seemed far more like a fair Puritan dreaming of her absent lover, than a young lady longing for a new dress, but truth will out as well as murder, -Cicely is only a girl with a girl's love of pretty things, and though this case is an exception to the rule, she cares more to please a naturally artistic eye than to attract admiration.

This love of beauty is the key-note of Cicely's character; she admires all that seems beautiful, good, and true; and judging from her own guileless heart, has a boundless faith in the goodness of others. She is still but a child in experience, and waits for the hard lessons that we all must learn from time and fate.

"Thump, thump, thump," echoes a step along the passage, and a stout lady waddles into the room, bringing in with her an agree able odour of bakemeats. "I ran away to the kitchen, my dear, directly I saw Georgie," she says in a fat voice "I cannot sit by and hear her talk for all the world like a mare in petticoats-it quite upsets me! So I says to myself 'Barbara, you had better go

and see how the cook is making those rissoles for tea; and it seems I may say providential, for if you will believe me, my dear"

Cicely recklessly interrupts Aunt Barbara's remarks; "Oh aunt, I am going to the Vicarage to-morrow evening. May I have Jane to iron my dress?"

"Of course, my dear; but I never like your going there. I am always afraid of your catching Georgie's manner of talking, though you are so different. It is a wonder to me that madame is so completely mastered by her daughter, for she has a good temper of her own; but Georgie does just what she likes."

'Aunt, did Georgie behave in the same way when she first came to Marshlands as she does now?

"Just the same, my dear. The fact is Madame spoiled her; and Mr. Armstrong is such an absent, silent man, that he never found out what an odd niece he had, until it was too late to change."

"Oh, don't say so ! perhaps she may change still," said Cicely. Aunt Barbara settled herself more comfortably in her armchair, and said in a doubtful voice, "She will change some time, no doubt; but I hope she will make haste. She has been here ten years, and she seems to become more like a boy every year; but she will change, no doubt."

There fatigued with the unusual exertion of talking, she sleeps the sleep of a clear conscience and a good digestion.

CHAPTER II.

SIX o'clock sees Cicely at her toilet; she stands before her glass and looks at her reflection with an anxiety that she has never felt before. The crisp blue and white muslin, the pale blue ribbon that holds the waves of hair in their place, the lace frills, they only meet with half an approbation; at last, with a parting glance over her shoulder, she takes up her shady hat and goes slowly downstairs.

A few minutes walk brings her to the vicarage gate. Cicely's heart beat violently, as she rang the bell; for was she not to see the owner of that handsome face which haunted her ever since that momentary glance. Georgie opened the door and greeted her warmly, thoughly she did not consider Cecily a poor "womanly creature."

"That is right! you are in capital time. Come upstairs and take off your toggs;" and Georgie preceded her visitor up the narrow stairs, taking two steps at a time, and thereby exhibiting an extensive amount of red stockinged ankles, rather thick than otherwise.