“No,” he replied, “I find I was inclined to think too lightly of my accident; the movement of a carriage is not particularly good for me yet, I believe; I find it gives me pain in my shoulder, so I have been more of a prisoner than I expected to be when I saw you last. Is that your seat?” he continued, “you have chosen a nice shady spot."

"I was sitting there for a few minutes,” she said, “but I think it must be time for me to be returning home. I gave the children leave to stay with Annie Shirley a quarter of an hour, which must very nearly have elapsed."

They walked towards the house; the children, however, did not appear, and Mr. Stratton called a servant and asked him to let them know Miss Stourton was ready for them, thus effectually preventing her from going after them herself."

The children quickly arrived, and Margaret was beginning to say good-bye, when Mr. Stratton said

"I have been sitting still so long to day that I must really take a little walk," and he proceeded to accompany Margaret through the gate into the park, and along the well-worn pathway leading to Northcourt. After talking on various subjects, he surprised her not a little by saying somewhat abruptly—

"You, Miss Stourton, are one of those enviable people who may feel themselves of real use in the world. Those after all are the happy, the enviable people."

"You take a very different view of my case," she replied, “from what many, I may say most people do, I believe."

"That," he answered, "is highly probable. It being unfortunately the way of this world to call good evil, and evil good; more's the pity. But I certainly feel more and more every day what a happiness it must be to be doing something better than merely existing; something beyond the mere eating, drinking, and preserving one's life in as agreeable a way as possible."

"Well," she replied, "but if you really think this, what can prevent your acting in accordance with such opinions. I should have thought you could easily attain to what you now envy."

"It is what I am intending, am really hoping to do," he answered "I want to begin, what goes by the name of “doing one's duty,' and I suppose I ought to turn farmer, look after my property-my tenants, at all events, see to the schools, become a magistrate, attend county meetings, and a hundred things besides ?"

"Of course you ought," she said, laughingly; "and then I should think there is no fear but what you will find quite as many opportunities for becoming of use to the world as you could desire."

"I assure you I seriously intend to do all this, and upon my word I don't think I can be too thankful for an accident which has brought me into such close contact with your Rector, Mr. Shirley. He is an excellent man, Miss Stourton; don't you agree with me?" "I do indeed," she said, earnestly.

"He is a most excellent, sensible man," he went on,

"and one

who, while not ignorant of the ways of this world, seems to me to live as though he already belonged to a better. I have found him a delightful person to talk and advise with."

"And it is in consequence of all he has said that of becoming useful?" said Margaret, with a smile.

you have thought

"No," he replied, "you wrong me there; it does, I assure you, date farther back than that-farther, even, than when I first had the pleasure of meeting you in the train, when, if I recollect rightly, I was studying a pamphlet on-what was the title ?"

"Landlords and their tenants,' I think," said Margaret.

Yes, I believe that was it. Do you mean to say you observed it ?" I did," she answered, "because I had heard it spoken of very highly only the night before."

"How curious," he said, stopping short; "how little we either of us expected then to be standing here in this park talking of it." "No, indeed; for I for one had no idea such a park existed." “Well, but to go back to what I was saying," he continued; "I have really been attempting what I have been advocating, for I have been in Nottinghamshire, where I have some property, which, owing to the misconduct of an agent, I discovered to be in a most neglected state. I have been living in a farm-house there, and regularly working at bringing things into something like order; and, do you know, I never felt happier in my life. So you see I have some right to tell you that I consider the workers the enviable people; provided, that is, they are working in the right direction. But there is the rub."

"Oh, but you cannot be doing wrong, and time and experience will help you to do better."

"Thank you for such encouragement, Miss Stourton, it will help me to persevere."

Thus talking pleasantly, and half seriously, they reached the spot where Lucy and Maude were sitting beneath the shade of a noble beech, employed in sketching the house.

Mr. Stratton remarked that he had often thought the Rectory from between the lime avenue, catching a glimpse of the Church tower, would make an extremely pretty picture.

"Do you not draw ?" he asked Margaret.

"Not much," she answered; "Lucy is the artist of the family." "I think you underrate your powers," said Lucy, as much as you overrate mine."

Mr. Stratton felt a great desire to have the said picture drawn and presented to him by Margaret, but he did not venture upon such a suggestion. She at the same time felt that it would be " goodnatured" to offer to make the drawing for him, but somehow or other she did not make the offer.

The day before Mr. Stratton left the Rectory, he with Mrs. Shirley walked up to Northcourt to take leave of the party there. They stayed some time, and it so happened that Mr. Stratton took the chair nearest to Margaret. He mentioned his intention of proceeding

with various plans which his steward had been anxious for, and asked her what her opinion was as to the merits of some new cottages which had been lately built on the North estate. She spoke of one or two improvements which she fancied would make them not only more picturesque, but more commodious, and he seemed to think her ideas quite worthy of recollection and consideration. Certainly, on various other matters upon which they conversed, he appeared very much to like knowing her opinion, and they seemed to agree remarkably well in their fancies and tastes.

66

Mrs. Shirley at length rose to go, and Mr. Stratton had to say 'good bye," which he did as if he was quite sorry to be leaving everything, and every body with whom his accident had brought him into so much intimacy. His last look was for Margaret, as he left the room, and do what she would she could not prevent the bright colour from rushing up into her face. "Why was she so foolish, so ridiculous, so absurd," she asked herself, as she walked up and down once or twice, and then stood by the window. there they were; she could just see that Mr. Stratton was walking backwards, taking a last look at the house from the spot where Lucy and Maude had sketched it a few days previously.

Yes,

Five minutes after she heard steps in the gallery. "Was it Miss May? yes, it must be." How she longed to say she could not see her to-day. There was a knock at the door. "Come in," she said, hastily leaving the window.

"A note from Miss May, if you please, Ma'am; and the servant is waiting for an answer.'

Happily for Margaret, it was a "put off;" Miss May hoped, however, that some of the party would go and see her in the afternoon, as she had a cold, and could not leave the house in consequence.

No sooner had Margaret sent her answer, than, sitting down, she gave herself up to a short reflection, and ended by determining that she would not allow her thoughts to be wandering over recollections of what Mr. Stratton had said, what he had thought, how he had looked, &c. &c. "It was so absurd; was it for one moment likely that he would ever think of her again? —Of course not; she never ought to have thought so much of him. But, no matter, she could not help that now; however, no one else in all the wide world should know of this great folly of hers."

The county paper mentioned a few weeks afterwards that Mr. Stratton, of Stratton Park, was one of the county gentlemen who had lately shown much interest in the improvement of those dwellings on his extensive property. Schools, roads, farm-houses, cottages, &c., were receiving attention, which indeed they greatly needed; and a sum of money had been placed in the hands of the Rector of the parish by Mr. Stratton for the furtherance of various desirable objects, previously to his quitting Stratton Park to join Lady Vaux and her family at Brighton. [TO BE CONTINUED.]

After a long pause Cyprian Lascelles resumed his narration.

The sailor was the key-note of the mystery. True; but how to strike it? Where was he? When I had seen him last he was hurrying off in the direction of Marbury on the high road. How was I to trace him with so slight a clue? After some thought I decided upon calling to my assistance more able and practised heads than my own. I told you of the powerful ally that I had discovered in one of the French Ministers of Police. Among his other tokens of gratitude to me he had given me an introductory letter to his colleagues in London and other parts of England, authorising me to use their services whenever I required them. Now was the time to bring this engine into play. I forwarded an account of the Earl's accident, with a full-as far at least as I could make it full-description of the sailor to the head-quarters of the detective force in London, requesting, first, that he might be detained by some stratagem until I could meet him; secondly, that all possible particulars respecting birth, age, manner of life, &c., might be investigated, and made clear. A report was to be forwarded to me as soon as all was ready. I waited patiently some time; how long it appeared to me I cannot describe; but again I found my happy conjectures and guesses had led me right. At length that which I expected so eagerly arrived. The young man had been found not very far from Marbury; judicious treatment had made him communicative, and enough had been discovered to make my agent feel that it was worth while to pursue the enquiry abroad, where he referred his birth and the greater portion of his life. He had written consequently to his brother

F

detectives in Paris, and the result was the discovery of his whole life back to an early age, which now was spread before me to study. I did study it, and felt that the time had come to take decisive measures. By the advice of my agent I inserted an advertisement inviting him to an interview. It was cautiously worded, and perfectly successful.

"On the way to that interview, having in my excitement neglected the most common precautions, I fell ill with fever. Fearing to let out my secret in my ravings, and desirous also of trusting the business to safe hands, I sent for you at once as nurse and confidante. Thanks to your care, which I am bound to say has been assiduous and thoughtful, I now am well, and able again to pursue that scheme which has occupied my thoughts so long. But here I require your assistance. The matter has now become too delicate for me to em

ploy the French police any longer. I must work myself, or commit the work to one to carry on whose interests will keep him secret, and connected with me. You, then, are that man. You know well that your liberty depends on my silence; that a single hint that you are a bigamist would send you to the galleys. Here, then, is one all-powerful reason for alliance with me. And again; I can promise you a very fair premium for your labour if all turns out as I expect. When would you, poor little swindler and chevalier d'industrie that you are, acquire £1000? By how much brain-torture and light-fingered exercise could you heap it up? Never. Are you not tired of your hand to mouth existence? Don't yon think a temporary absence from London would do you good? If you do not, I do. Come, then, Wagner, and tell me, are you ready to become my ally, my fellow plotter, my agent?"

66

Parbleu, Master! if your reasoning is cogent, my necessities are cogent also. Fear, love, and poverty, alone compel me to enrol myself under your mysterious banner.

"The first and last reasons I accept; of the other, if you please, we will say nothing."

"You are wrong, then, Master. I love you just because you don't pretend to love me. I love your great, strong, clear head, and your cold, reasoning mind. I respect and admire you for your skill in head-work. I can flatter the foibles, and live by the weakness of most other men; but here is one who has neither. I feel a nameless reverence, a fear-yes, a love-for one who is able thus to crush the minds of others, and make them work for him. You despise me, I know. Parbleu! What then? Do I need love, admiration, respect, Ah, no! These will not warm, feed, or clothe me. These give me not the little necessaries of my life. No, I get not by them my tabac, my cognac, my chocolate, my little what-nots. I am simple, my wants are simple, my means are simple. What would you have? One must live, and society is so ready to be lived upon, if only you invite it properly. Du reste, my friend, I am ready to be, to do, what you will. Speak, and I obey. You the head, I the hand.”

66

Very good, then. The upshot of your speech is that you