a daughter. Agnes had a warm heart, and a bright cheerful temper. She was pretty sure to be pleased whatever turn things might take, and her happy joyous laugh quite delighted old Mrs. Bailey. Then she was always ready to help Mrs. Bailey about any work she had in hand. She took two little black pigs, which had been a present to his old nurse from the Squire, under her special charge; and as to the poultry, they seemed to be as fond of her as such creatures could possibly be.

Mrs. Forrester and her children often went to see Mrs. Bailey, and the children soon struck up a great friendship with Agnes. They came with their nurse to drink tea at the farm one evening, which they considered a very great treat, and Agnes made some Scotch cakes for tea, with which they were all greatly delighted.

One day Mrs. Bailey announced her intention of giving a teaparty, and acordingly she invited Agnes and her brother to be present, and she sent invitations to Joseph Frost, Mr. and Mrs. Dingle of Ashe Farm, the butler, housekeeper, and lady's maid, and Mr. Blanchet, from the Squire's; and Mr. Patton and his son and three daughters, from Houghton. Agnes was as busy as a bee assisting in the preparations for the entertainment. Mrs. Bailey gave the party chiefly on Agnes's account; she thought Agnes deserved a little pleasure, she said, and she hoped she would enjoy the evening. No one knew better how to manage an entertainment of the kind than Mrs. Bailey: everything was arranged with most scrupulous nicety. Some of the party were musical, and when tea was over they had some very pretty singing. Agnes and her brother were prevailed upon to sing a few Scotch songs, and Frost sang a very touching ballad which drew tears from the eyes of some of the party; among them were those of Agnes, who had always a tenderful heart,' as her Aunt used to say.

Frost and Mr. Blanchet both performed some pieces, the one on the violin, the other on the flute. What with singing, music, and conversation, and a country dance to wind up, the evening passed so agreeably that the company were quite astonished when Mr. Patton exclaimed, "Mercy on us, Jane, Lucy, and Maria! Why, it's nearly half-past eleven. Fred, go and bring the chaise round directly."

His son rather reluctantly proceeded to do as he was desired, and the party shortly after broke up, having all enjoyed themselves thoroughly.

Frost went through the park with the Squire's servants, and then, after saying "good-night," he cut across the grass by a way that would lead him into the lane to the village. When he came near to the gate which would let him out into the lane, he fancied he saw in the dim light a woman leaning on the gate; she had her hands up to her face, and at first he thought she was crying. As he came close to her she said, without raising her head—

"A pretty time you've kept me waiting."
He stopped. He thought he knew the voice.—
"Nancy!" he said; "Nancy! Is that you?"

She started violently and looked round, and then said—" Whoever would have thought of seeing you here!"

"It's a fitter place for me, I fancy, than for you," he replied. "How come you to be out here all alone at such a time of night? Let me walk home with you, and see you safe through the copse. You'd be afraid to go through such a dark place by yourself, I should think."

She hesitated, and seemed to be listening. Just at that moment a low whistle at a little distance was borne towards them on the night wind.

A thrill shot through Frost's veins.

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Nancy," he said, in a deep earnest tone, "take care, take care what you are about. O! for the love of heaven don't slight all the warnings you have had; let me take you home."

"Leave me to take care of myself," she replied, "and don't be interfering, Sir;" and so saying, she turned quickly from him and walked away. The next moment Lane's voice, excusing himself for having been so long in coming, was to be heard among the trees. For a few minutes Frost stood still, his arms folded and his lips compressed.

"Poor girl, poor girl," he said to himself at last. "How she can have anything to say to a man of his character is astonishing to me; and what a rascal he is to be leading her into doing what she ought not just for his own selfish amusement. I wish I had the punishing of him, that I do. I greatly fear she'll come to no good, poor girl."

Frost's feelings towards Nancy had long ceased to be anything more than those of pure pity and compassion for a fellow creature. But he did pity her exceedingly, and would have risked a good deal to save her from the evil consequences he foresaw likely, sooner or later, to follow her careless levity of conduct.

CHAPTER VIII.

The Christmas week came in due course, and a very happy pleasant week it was to a great many of the Briarly people.

The Squire and his family set an example to all about them. With grateful hearts they met in the prettily-decorated church to offer thanks and praises for the mercies commemorated at that holy season, and they gathered around them a large number of friends and neighbours to partake of their hospitality. They did not forget their poorer neighbours; many a kind gift found its way to the cottages on the estate, and they gave a pleasant entertainment to their tenants and tradespeople. Among the young girls at the dance none looked more blithe and happy than Agnes Ferguson. Thanks to her good Aunt, Agnes had acquired a taste for tidiness, and she

was unusually refined for one in her station in all her personal habits. Her dress was the perfection of neatness, her hair smooth and glossy. In the expression of her face there was something you could not help remarking. It was not pride, but there was a quiet sort of dignity which made you feel that no man in his senses would dare to take a liberty with her; and yet she gave herself no airs." Her manners were particularly good, modest, and self-possessed. Ferguson's sister looks as good as she is pretty," remarked Mrs. Forrester to the Squire.

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"So she does," said he; "and what a good fellow Ferguson is; they are worthy of each other."

Just at that moment Joseph Frost and John Lane both approached Agnes to engage her for a country dance. Frost, however, spoke first, and Agnes accepted him, for which Lane gave him a somewhat scowling look.

Some little time before this dance at the Squire's took place, Nancy had begun to fear she was losing her hold on John Lane. She had apparently won him over again a few weeks after the quarrel about Blanchet, and had been a great deal in his company. As usual she had spent much of her time at Jane Quirl's, where a great deal went on that was neither right nor respectable. It was a sad thing to see two young women so careless of their reputation as those two had become. Excitement and amusement were their chief objects of pursuit, and the gay and careless young men of Briarly were always sure of a welcome at Miss Quirl's whenever they chose to drop in for a gossip.

John Lane was considered a man of wealth and position, and Nancy had come to the conclusion that she might as well become his wife without further delay. In order to gain him, therefore, she now tried to gratify him by studiously attending to his whims and fancies, and doing pretty much whatever he pleased. Yet somehow or other she did not always feel quite as certain of his intentions towards her as she now wished; and during a part of the evening at the Squire's a chill went to her heart when she observed the careless tone in which he spoke to her, and the indifference indicated by his manner. After a few words which he spoke, although he was scarcely thinking of her, he abruptly left the part of the room where she was standing, and went to the other end of it. There she saw him speaking with a very different expression of countenance to Agnes Ferguson, who with her brother had just arrived. Nancy was now desperately determined to win Lane back to his old allegiance to herself. More than once she observed him dancing with Agnes, and she clearly saw that he admired her very much. With feelings of jealousy and anger she watched them both.

And that

"Was he then really going to desert her for another? other a quiet stay-at-home girl like Agnes. Why he used always to laugh at such girls. No, he never should desert her, never! She would make him think of her." How she hated Agnes as she saw her going down the dance so merrily with Lane. Her heart beat

with ill-suppressed passion, and she scarcely knew what to do to prevent words of bitter reproach escaping her lips as Lane pushed rudely by her to get a seat for Agnes when the dance was over. Was it only vexation at being slighted which thus roused feelings of revenge and passion in her breast? Or had that handsome heartless fellow become really dearer to her than she was aware of till now? Perhaps it was so, perhaps she had almost unknowingly given her affections to one who had made her his plaything, and was ready to cast her aside when some new toy offered itself to his fancy. Was this all she had gained, then, by leaving the woman's path of modesty and self-respect, and becoming bold, careless, and undutiful?

She apparently succeeded later in the evening in making Lane pay her some sort of attention, for he was seen talking to her for some time apart from the rest of the company. Her face was flushed, and her eyes very bright: but there was a strange cloud on his brow.

One person said afterwards she heard him tell Nancy with an oath, that "he wished she would just leave him alone, and not bother him."

Neither Farmer Childers nor any of Nancy's brothers were at this party. The farmer said he had the gout, but it is probable he had other reasons for keeping away. He would scarcely speak to his daughter now, and he detested Lane. He had told Nancy she was to have nothing to say to Lane, but, as we have seen, she paid no heed to her father's commands. He had told her that Lane's character was shockingly bad, and had warned her against him over and over again, but all to no purpose. She had been determined to go her

own way.

Ferguson had observed to his sister that Lane was not the kind of man he would like her to have much to say to, and she was accordingly reserved in her manner towards him. But Lane, who was quite unaccustomed to be so treated, was only piqued into paying her more intention. Agnes, however, was still guarded by her brother's words, and she received Lane's devotion very coldly. She did not like him herself, there was something even in his very way of looking at her that made her shrink from him, and turn her head the other way.

The evening passed gaily and pleasantly, and was finished with a capital supper. The Squire himself sat at one end of the table, and Mr. Ferguson at the other. The Squire made a speech, in which he spoke of the pleasure it always gave both to himself and Mrs. Forrester to see happy faces around them. He said he had very much enjoyed the evening himself, and he could only hope his guests on that occasion could all say the same thing. He wished them health and happiness, and trusted they might all be spared to meet in that hall again when the new year then coming was getting old in its turn, and another Christmas had arrived. And now, my friends, he said, let me entreat you one and all to strive to maintain 'peace and good-will,' both in your own families, and among your

neighbours; for there is nothing so conducive to health and happiness, to comfort in this world, and a right preparation for life in another, as the steady determination to live at peace with all around you.

This speech was received with reiterated cheers for the Squire, for Mrs. Forrester and all the family; and after a few brief words from Mr. Ferguson in reply, for which Mr. Forrester thanked him, the festivities came to a close.

The long winter's night, part of which had been spent so pleasantly by many of the Briarly people in the Squire's hospitable mansion, came at length to an end, and morning broke. The sleeping village awoke once more to prepare for the daily labours to which the inhabitants would betake themselves according to their various callings and occupations. The sun had risen but a short time, when a rumour of some terrible event which had taken place began to be heard in Briarly. Something very dreadful had evidently happened, and gradually every face assumed an expression of awe and eager curiosity. Vague reports only at first were circulated, but at length a servant from the Squire's, who was going in hot haste to the house of a neighbour with a letter from his master, put an end to the doubts of an assemblage of villagers who were collected in a group near John Lane's house, by saying, "it was perfectly true, perfectly true. Nancy Childers was dead-found murdered, in short, in the cow-shed close to Mr. Forrester's house." A little boy who was constantly employed about the cows, had been frightened almost into fits by discovering the body of the unfortunate girl lying covered with blood on the threshold. As soon as he had sufficiently recovered from his terror as to be able to speak, he had run straight to Mr. Forrester's with the dreadful intelligence of his discovery, and in a very short time the Squire and various members of his household had gone down to the cow-shed to ascertain for themselves the truth of the boy's assertions. True enough they were. There lay the body on the threshold; life was extinct, and death had evidently been caused by violence. The body was ultimately removed from the spot where it was first discovered to the porch of the church, which was close at hand, to await there the arrival of the Coroner, and proper people set to watch that no one touched it. It was a terrible shock to those who but a few hours before had seen Nancy Childers apparently in the fullest enjoyment of life and health, to look now on that poor dead body, not only deprived of life, but disfigured in a very shocking manner. Who had committed this awful and terrible crime? Had she killed herself? If so, where was the weapon she had used? No, it was very evident that she could not have done the deed with her own hand. The Squire felt certain of this, he said, from various circumstances. Where then was the miscreant who had hurried this poor girl into eternity? Eternity!-how fearful the thought!

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"Why had he done it ?” "How had he done it ?"

These and a hundred more such questions were immediately in every one's mouth, but no answer seemed to be forthcoming.

HHH