[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.] THE PENNYCONIEQUICKS.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume XXIV, Issue 8337, 13 April 1889, Page 5

[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.] THE PENNYCONIEQUICKS.

BY S. BARING-GOULD.

Author of " Mehaiah," " Covet Rotal," "John Hebbing," "The GrAYBBOCKS," &C. 'A.ALL EIGHTS EESEUVED.] CHAPTER XXI — Hyacinth Bulbs. The figure seen in the dark had diverted Philip from his purpose 7of speaking to Salome about money. He was not particularly eitger to make his proposal, because that proposition had in it a smack of evasion of an offer already made ; as though he had speedily repented of the liberality of the first. In this there was some moral cowardice, such as ia found in all but blunt Daturep, and induceß thorn to catch at excuses for deferring an unpleasant duly. There exists a wide gulf between two sorts of persons — the one shrinks and shivers at the obligation to say or do anything that may pain anotbor ; the other rushes at the chance with avidity, like a hornet impatient to sting. On this occasion Philip had a real excuse for postponing what he had come out to say, for Salome was not in a frame of mind to attend to it ; she was alarmed and bewildered by this second encounter with a man whose face she bad not seen, and who was bo mysteriousinhis proceedings. Accordingly Philin went to bed that night without having discharged (lie unpleasant task, and with the burden still weighing on bin). I Next day, when he returned from the I factory, in ascending the stairs he mot Salome descending with her hands full of hyacinth glasses, purple, yellow and green, aod a pair tucked under her arms. She smiled recognition, and the faintest tinge of colour mounted to her face. Her foot halted, held suspended for a moment on the step, and Philip flattered himself that she desired to speak to him, yet lacked the courage to address him. Accordingly he spoke first, volunteering his assistance. " Ob, thank you," Bhe replied, " I am merely taking the glasses and bulbs to the Pummy cupboard again." " Thank you in English is the equivalent for s'il vons plait and not oimerci,' he said, " so I shall carry some of the glasses. But — what is the Pummy cupboard?" "Yon do not know the names of the nooks and corners of your own house," said Salome, laughing 1 . "My sister and I gave foolish names to different rooms and closets, when we were children, and they have retained them, or we have not altered them. I had put the'bulbs in a closet under the Btaircase till we thought of ehauging quarters, and then I removed them so as to pack them. Tt was whilst I was thns engaged that I saw that strange, inexplicable figure for the first time. Now that I know we are to remain here, I have put them in glasses to taste water, and am replacing them in the dark, in the cupboard." " Have you many ?" " A couple of dozen named bulbs, all good." " I will help you to carry down the I glasses and roots. Where are they ?" "In the drawing-room. We kept the glasses there all summer in the cluflo- | nier." " I hope you will bo able to spare me one or two for my study." " Of course you shall have a supply in your window. They were procured partly for Mr Pennjcomequick and partly for my mother.'' '•' You say •of course ' ; but Ido not see the force of the words. Itemember I have had a lodging house experience ; my sense of the fitness of things is framed on that model, and my landlady never said 'of course ' to anything I suggested which would give me pleasure, but cost; her some trouble. lam like Kaspar Hauacr, of whom you may have heard ; he was brought up in a solitary dark cell ; and denied everything, except bare necessaries ; when he escaped and came among men, he had no notion how to behave, and was lost in amazement to find they were not all gaolers. I had on my chimney-piece two horrible sprigs of artificial flowers, originally from a bridecake, that from length of existenoe and accumulation of soot were become so odious that at last I burnt them. The landlady made me pay for them as though they were choice orchids." "You must not make mo laugh," said Salome, "or I shall drop the glasses from under my arms."; " Then let me take then)," said Philip promptly, "you have two in your hands, that suffices. I tiro you with my reminiscences of lodging-house life V "Not at all — they divert me." "It is the only subject on which my conversation flows. Ido not know why it is that when I speak on politics I have a difficulty in expressing my ideas, hut when I come on landlady-dom, the words boll out of my heart, like the water from a newly-tapped artesian well. I hare a great mind to tell you my Scarborough experiences." "Do so." " Once when I was out of sorts I went to the sea-coaßt for a change— but lam detaining you." "Well, I will put down the glasses and bulbs in the Pummy cupboard and return to hear your story." Instead of going downstairs with Salome, Philip, though lie had relieved her of two glasses, went with them to the drawing-room, whence she had taken Ihem— whioh was in no way assisting hen Moreover, when he was there he put down the glasses on the table and began examining the names of the bulbs —double pink blush, single china bine, :he queen of the yellows, and so on. 3e had offered to help Salome, but lie ffas doing nothing of the kind, he nailed /ill she had filled tbr glasses with water, planted a eonpln r( lui'bs in it, and lonsigned them to the depths of the mpboard. When she returned to the >arlor, he was still examining the nanics if the tubera. "Now," said he, "I will tell you .bout myjlandlsdy at Scarborough." I

He made no attempt to cairy down j glasses, lie detained the givl from I prosecuting her work. "I was at Scar- • borough for a week, and when I left my lodgings the landlady charged me thirty shillings for a toilet set, because there, was a oraok in the soap-dish. I had not injared it. I pointed out the fact that the crack was grey witu aga, that the discoloration betokened antiquity, but she was inaccessible to reason, impoßsible to convince. The injury done to the soap- dish spoiled the whole set, she said, and I must pay for an entireset. I might have contested the point lit law ; but it was hardly worth my while, so I agreed to pay the thirty shillings, only I stipulated that I sbould carry off the fractured soap-dish with me. Then she resisted ; she argued, it could be of no use to me. I must have it, and at laat, when I persisted in mj resolve, she let me off with a couple of shillings. ' "But why?" " Because the craoked soap-dish was to her a source of revenue. Every lodger for years had been bled on account of that crack to the tune of thirty shillingp, and that cracked soapdish was worth many pounds per annum to that wrotched woman." Then, with a sudedn tightening of the muscles at the corners of his mouth, he added, " I knovr their tricks and their ways ! I have been brought up among landladies, a* Romulus was nursed by a wolf, and Jupiter was reared among goats." " I supposo there are good lodginghouse keepers as well as bRd ones," said Salome, laughing. " Charity hopeth all things," answered Philip, grimly, " but I never came aeroaa onp. Just as colliers acquire a peculiar stoop and walk, and horae dealers a special twist in conscience, and sailors a peculiar waddle, engendered by their professions, so does lodging-house keeping produce a warp and crick and callousness in women with which they were not born. You do not know what it is, you cannot know what it Ib, to bo brought up to form one's opinions among landladies. It forces one to see tho world, to contemplate life through their medinm as through lenses that break R nd distort all rays. Do you recall what the King of Israel said when the King of Syria sent to him Naanian to be healed of his le/irosj? 1 " " Yes," answered Salome, " ' Sea how he seeketh a quarrel against me.' " <• Exactly. And those who live in furnished lodgings are kept continually in the King of Israel's frame of mind. "Whatever the landlady does, whatever she leaves undone, when she rolls her eyes round the room, when she sweeps with them tho carpet, onn m always saying to one's self, ace how this woman seeketh a quarrel against me. Landladies are the cantharides of our nineteenth century civilisation, the great source of blister and irritation, Even a man of mean, who has not to count his shillings, must feel his wretchedness in lodgings! but consider the apprehensions, tho unrest that jnust possess a man, pinched in his circumstances, who lives among landlndir?. Her oye," continued Philip, who had warraeJ to his subject, "is ever searching for spots on the carpet; frajif g "of sofa edges, tesra in the curtains, scratches in the mahogany, chips in the marble mantelpiece. I think it was among QumVs emblems that I saw a picture ot man's cireer among traps and snares on every side. In lodgings every article of fnrnituro ia a. gin reudy to snup on you if you use it." Then Philip took up two hyacinth glasses, one yellow, the other blue, but put down that which was blue, and took up another,- that was yellow, not for festhetic predilection, but to prolong tho time. It was a real relief to him to unburden his memory of its gall, to go through his recollections, like a Jew on the Pascal preparation, for and casting out every scrap of sour leaven. " I daresay you are wondering, Miss Cusworth," he said, "to what thia preamble on landladies is leading." Salome looked amused and puzzled j so perhaps is the reader, Philip had been, as he said, for so many years in furnished lodgings, and had for so many years had before his eyeß nothing but a prospect of spending all -his days in them, and of expiring in the arms of lodging-house keepers, that he had come to loathe the life. Nmw that his financial position w.aa altered, and before him opened a caresr unhampered and unsoured by pecuniary difficulties, a desire woko up in him to enjoy a more cheerful, social life than that of his experience. Mow the difference between the days in his uncle's house at Mergatroyd and those he had spent in lodgings at Nottingham did not differ radically. It was true that he no longer Tia~d the tongue of a landlady hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles, but his day was no brighter, quite ss colourless. He was beneath the same roof witifx an old lady who belonged, as his suspicious eye told him, to the same clay as that out of which the landlady is modelled, only circumstances had HGt developed in her tho pugnacity and acridity of tho class. In herself, an uninteresting persoD, whom only tho love and respect of her daughters could invest with any favour. But those daughters were both charming. His prejudice against Salome was gone completely, that against Janet almost gone. As his suspicions of Salome left, his dislike of Janet faded simultaneously. He had conceived a mistrust of Saloino because he had conceived an aversion against Janet ; now that he began to like Salome, this liking influenced his regard for the sister. The society ot Ins aunt was no gain to Philip. He disapproved of her lack of principle and disliked her selfishness. The tone of her mind and talk wore repugnant to him, and Lsmbert and he would never become friends, because the cement of common interests lacked. Philip discovered himself not infrequently during the day looking at the office clock, and wishing that worktime were over ; not that ho wearied of his work, but that he was impatient to be home and have ft chance of a word with Salome. When he returned from the factory, if he did not meet her in the hall, or on the stairs, or see her in the garden, he waß disappointed. It was remarkable how many wants lift discovered that necessitated a descent to Mrs Cusworth's apartments, and how, when he entered end found ihat one of tho daughters was present, his viait was prolonged, and the conversation was not confined to his immediate necessity. If on his entering, the tea-table was covered, he was easily persuaded to remain for a cup. His reserve, his coldneßs, did not wholly dusert him, except when ho was alone with Salome, when her freshness and frankness exorcised on him a relaxing fascination ; all his restraint fell nway at once, and he became natural, talkativp, and cheerful. "Tho fact of tho matter is," said Philip, "I have been lifting the veil to you that covers furnished lodging-house life, and exposing my wretchedness to enlist your sympathy, because I am about to ask a considerable favour." " I am sure we need no persuasion to do what we can for you." "It is this. It your mother would Dot object, I should like to have my meals with you all. just as my uncli was wont. Hiving everything sfrved nmy room recall i my past with too great intensity. I have beard of a prisoner who had spent many yenra in the Bastille, that in after life, when fr. o, lie could not endure to hear tho clink of [ire-irons. It recalled to him his chains, [f there ba things at which my soul itvpjts. it is steak) chops, outlets.".

"Ob tt would indeed be a pleasure 1-i n9— such a pleasure !"' and Salome's face told Philip that what shoßpoke she felt; the colour lifted in her cheeks, and the dimples formed at the corners of her mouth. "And now," Bhe said, still with the smile on tier face, playing about her lips; "And now, Mr Pennycomequick, you will not be angry if I aek you a favour." " I angry !" " Must T enlist your sympathy first of all, and inveigle yon into promising before you know what the request is -I nm about to make P I might tell you that a young girl like me has a little absnrd prid« in her, and that it is generous of a man to respect it, let it stand, and not knock it over." "What is the favour? I am too cautious— have been too long in a lawyer's office to undertake anything the particulars and nature of which I do not know." "It is this, Mr Pennyeomequick. I want you not to say another word about your kind and liberal offer to me. I will not accept it, not on any account, because I have no right to it. So that is granted." "Miss Ousworth, I will not hear of this." Philip's face darkened, though not a muscle moved. "Why do you ask this of ma ? What Is .the meaning of your refusal?" " I will not take that to which I have no right," she replied firmly. " Youliave aright," answered Philip, somewhat sharply. " You know aB well as 1 do that my uncle intended to provide for you, at least aa he did for Mra Baynes. It was not his wish that yon should be left without proper provision." " I know nothing of the sort. What he put into my hands was merely as evidence that he had at one time purposed to do an unfair thing, and that he repented of it in time." " Miss Oueworth, that cancelled will still remains to me a mystery, and J do not see how I shall ever come to an understanding of how it was that the signature was gone. From your account my undo " " Nuver mind going over that question again. As you say, an understanding of the mystry will never be roached. Allow it to remain unsttempted. lam content." "But, Miss Cusworth, we do not offer you a handsome, but a moderate provision." "You cannot force me to take what I refuse to receive. Who was that king to whom molten gold wa3 offered ? He shut his teeth against the draught. So do I. I clench mine and you cannot force thflm qpen." " What is the mennfng of this ? Why do you refnae to have my uncleU wishes carried out ? You put us in an invidious position." Salome had shut her mouth. She shaok her head. The pretty dimples were in her cheeks. Her colour had deepened. " Someone has been talking to you,'' said Philip. " I know there has. Who was it P" Salome again shook her head, with a provoking smile dappling and dimpling her face ; but seeing that Philip was seriously annoyed, it faded, and she broke silence. " There is a real favour you can do us, Mr Pennycomequick, if you will." "What is that?" asked Philip. His ease and pheerfulnesa wero gone. He wbs angry, for he was convinced that Mrs Sidebottom had said something to the girl which had induced hpr to refuse the offer. ™"It is tbisr-mamma had all her money matters mauaged for her by dear Mr Pennycomequick. She did not consult us about them, and we knew and know nothing about her property, and do not know how much she has, and in what investment it is. She did not, I believe, understand much about these affairs herself, she trusted all to the management of Mr Pennycomequick. He was so clever, bo kind, and he did everything for her without giving her trouble. But now that he is gone, I fancy shei3 worried and bewildered about these things. She does not understand them, s r,d ahehi'.Bbeenf rolling recently because she supposes that she has encountered a great Joss. But that is impossible. She has touched nothing since MrPenny. comequick died, and what lie had invested for her must certainly have been put where it wns secure. It is not conceivable that she has lost since his death. J have been pnzzling my head about the matter, and I suspect that some of bur vouchera have got among Mr Pennycomequieb's papers, and she fancies they j are lost to her. It is of course possible, i as he kept the management of her little moneys, that some of her securities may have bean taken with hjs. Jf you would kindly look into this matter for her, I am sure she will be thankful, and so— without saying— will I. If you can disabuse her mind of the idea that she haß ma/; with heavy losses, you will relieve her of a great, haunting trouble." " I will do this clioerfijlly. But this does not affect the obligation* — ~" "My teeth are set again. But— goej you offered to carry down my glasses, and you have not done so. You have, moreover, hindered me in my work." The house-door bell was rung. '• My aunt," muttered Philip. "' I know the touch of her hand on knocker or bell-pull. lam beginning to entertain towards her some of the feelings I had towards my landladies in tb.6 old unregenerate lodging-house days. Confound her ! Why should she come now ?" CHAPTER XXII.— Yes or No. Philip was right. He had recognised the ring of Mrs Sidobottom. As soon as the door was opened her .voice was audible, and Philip used a strong expression, which only wanted raising another stage to convert it into an oath. Salome caught up a couple of hyacinth glasses and resume^ her interrupted occupation ; and Philip w/snt to the window to remove a Bpring-naji that incommoded him. There ate certain voices, which, when coming unexpectedly on the ear, make the conscience feel guilty, though it may be free from fault. Such was that of Sirs Sidebottom. If Philip had been studying his B^ble instead of talking to Salome, when lie heard her, he would have felt as though he had been caught reading an improper French novel j and if Salome had been engaged in making preserves in the kitchen, she would have been conscious of inner horror and remorse as though she had been concocting poison. The reason of this v that those who hear the voice know that the owner of the voice is certain, whatever they do, to believe them to be guilty of some impropriety ; and they are frightened, not at what they have done, but at what thoy may be supposed to have done. " I suppose that Mr Pennjcomequiok s in his room," said Mrs Sidebottom, lasßing on, to the servant who had idmitted her, "It is not his time to be it the office." She ascended the stairs to the study Icor, and in so doing passed Salome, vho bowed, and was not sorry to b 9 tnable to respond to the proffered hand, laving both of her own engaged, carrying lasses. Philip heard his aunt enter tho study, fter a premonitory rap, and remained [•hero he was, hoping that as she did not ;iid him in his room she would concludo c na9 oat, and retire. But Mrs iidebottom was not a person to bj j vaded thus : and lifter having looked jund the rcom and called at his bedroom oor, sho came out on tho landing and ntered the drawing-room, where she iscovered him, penknife in hand, reloving bis epriDg.nail, „

" Oh !" she said, with an eye on the bulbs and fkucor glasses. "Adam and Eve in Paradise." "To whom entered the mischiefmaker," said Philip, promptly turning' upon her. " Not complimentary, Philip." " You brought it on yourself." " It takeß two to piok a quarrel," said> Mrs Sidebottom, " and I am in the moBt; amiable mood to-diy. By-the-way, you, might have inquired about my health' this morning, for you knew I was not well yesterday. As you had not the grace to do so, I have come to announce to you that I am better." " I did not suppose that you had been seriously ill." " Not seriously ill, hut indisposed. I nearly fainted in church last night, as I told you ; but you were otherwise occupied than In listening to me. Now, I want to know, Philip, what was that rigmarole about something or Bomeone seen in the dark 1" " There was nojrigmarole, as you call It* "Oh! do not pick faults in my language. You know what I mean, What was the excuse made by Miss Cusworlh'for taking your arm ?" " Miss Cusworth did not take my arm." " Because you'hud not thejwit to offer it ; and yet thej'.hint given was broad enough." : " I am busy," sajd Philip, in a tone of exasperation. His aunt's manner angered him, so that he could not speak or act with courtesy towards her. "Oh, yes. Busy planting Forget-me-not and Love-in-a-mist. Come, do not be cross. What was the meaning of that exclamation? I want to know, for I also saw some one standing by the amp-poßt, looking on." " I will tell you, and then perhaps you will be satisfied, Aunt Lousia. And when satisfied, I trust you will no longer detain me from my business." Then Philip shortly and plainly narrated to his aunt what had happened, He did so because tie thought it possible, just possible, that she might be able to explain the apparition. She was surprised and disconcerted by what she heard, but not for long. " Who has the garden key P" she enquired. " My unole had one on his bunch," "And that, bunch is in your possesßion V " Yes, and has not boen out of it. It is looked up in my bureau." " Very well, then, the fellow did not get in by that means. Had any one else a key ?" " Yes, Mra Ousworth." "And is there a third P" " Ho ; that is all." " Where was Mrs Ousworth's key on the night in question 1" "I did not enquire. It was unnecessary." " Not at all unnecessary. If the man did not obtain access by your key, he did by that of the housekeeper." " Thja is prepoateroui,' 1 said Philip, irritably. "You have made no allowmice for another contingency — that the door may have been left unlockfd and ajar by the gardener, when last at work." "That will not do, The gardener baa not been about the place for a fortnight or three weeks. You say that the servants may have allowed a friend to take the pick of Jeremiah's clothes. That expjaius nothing: for It doaa not account for the garden door being unlocked, thought it might for the hpuse door being left open- Why should not the Cusworths have needy relatives and hangers-on as well as the servant girls P Needy relatives smelling of beer, with patched small clofcheß and pimply faces, who fly about with the bats, and to whom the cast-off clothing, the good hat and warm overcoat, would be a boon. Who are these Cusworths? Whence have they come 1 Out pf as great an uncertainty as this mysterious figure. They are creations out of nothing, like the universe, but not, like it, to be pro? nounced very good. N/ow, Philip, Is not ray solution of the rfddle the only logical one 'f " This is enough on the subject, 1 ' aald Philip, especially chafed because his aunt's explanation really was the simplest, and yet was cse which he yvas unwilling to allow. " You charge high* minded, honorable people with " "I charged them wjth dping no harm," interrupted Mrs Sidebottom. "The clothes were laid out to be djß. tributed to the needy ; and Mrs Side, bottom was given the disposal of them. If she chose to favor a relative, who is to blame her? Not I. She would probably not care to have the sort of relatiye wh.Q woul^ tojjch his cap for Jeremiah's old suits, come openly to the door in the blaze of day, and before the eye of the giggling maid?. No doubt she said to the moulting v Mire, ' Come in the darl<c ; help yonpjelf to new plumage, but do not discredit us by proclaiming kjnshjp.' " Philip was too angry to answer his aunt. To change the subjeot he said, " Miss Cusworth has refused to receive anything from us. That some Influence hag been brought to bear on her to induce this, I hare no doubf, and I have as little doubt as to whose influence was ejerted." He looked fixedly at his aunt. " I am glad she has hg.d the grace to do so," answered Mrs Sidebottom, oheorily. " N<j, Philip, you need not drire your eyes into me, as if they were bradawls. I can quite understand that she has told you all, and laid the blame on me. Ido not deny my part in the transaction, lam not ashamed of it ; on the contrary, I glory in it. You were on the threshold of a groat folly, that jeopardised the firm of Pennycomequick, and my allowance out of it as well. I have ptepped in to stop you. I had my owa interests t(j jlook after, I ( have saved you four .thousand pounds, which you could not afford to lose. ' Am not 1 an aunt whose favor is worth cultivating; an aunt who deserves to bo treated with elementary politeness. P" Thun Philip's anger boiled up. " We see everything through opposite endsof the telescope. What is infinitely small to me and far away, is to you present and immense; and what tome ia close and overwhelming, is quite beyond your horizon. To my view of things we are committing a moral wrong when technically right. JjEojy that will was cancelled, and by Whom, wjll probably never be known ; but nothing in the world will persuade me that TJnele Jeremiah swung from one extremity of liberality to Miss Cusworth, coupled with injustice tp us, to the other extreme of generosity* to us and absolute neglect of her. Suoh a thing could not be. He would (urn In his grave if hs thought that she, an innocent, defenceless girl, pas to b,e left In this heartless, criminal manner, without a penny in the world, contrary ,to his jyishes." "Why did he not make another will, if he wished it so much ? " '■' Upon my word," eaid J? hilip, angrily, " I would give up my share readily to have Uncle Jeremiah buck, and know the < rights of the matter of the will." He ■ stood looking at his aunt with eyes that were full of anger, and the arteries dark and Sivollen. "I shall take care," he j sai3, " that she ia not defrauded of what is her due." I Then he left the room, and slung the j door after him with violence, and certainly with discourtesy. Never before had he lost his self-control as he had lost it in Mrs Sjdebotlom's presence on this occasion, but before ho had reached the foot of the staircase he had recovered his oold and formal manner. Am he 88,w Salome corns from the oup.

board where she was arranging the hyaoinths, he bade her in an imperious manner attend him into the breakfast room, and she obeyed readily, supposing he had some domestic order to give. "Shut the door, please," he said. The anger raised by Mrs Sidebottom affected his address and behaviour to Salome. A sea that has been lashed into fury beats indiscriminately against every object, rock or sandbank. He stationed himself with his back to the window and signed to the girl to faoe him. " Miss Cusworth," he said putting his hands behind him, as though he were standing before the hearth and not at a window, "My aunt has imposed on your ignorance, has taken a wicked advantage of your generosity, in persuading you to deoline the offer that was made you." " I decline it from personal motives, uninfluenced by her." " Do you mean to tell me she has not been meddling in the matter? I know better." " I do not deny that she spoke to me yesterday, but her words did not prompt, they only served to confirm thJ*Tesolution already arrived at." " But I will not allow you to refuse. Yon shall have ih» money." " I never withdraw a word once given," said Salome, with equal decision. " Then you shall take a share In the mill —be a partner." i," I cannot," she said, hastily, with a rush of colour. " Indeed this ia impossible." "Why sol" "It cannot be. I will not go back from my word." " I have my conscience, that speaks imperiously,"" said Philip. " I cannot, I will not be driven by your obstinacy to act dishonourably, nnjustly." Salome said nothing. She was startled by his vehemence, by his roughness of manner, so unlike what she had experienced from him, "Very well," said he, hurriedly. "You shall take me, and with me my share of the mill, and so satisfy every scruple. That, I trust, will content you as it does me." -. Tliegirl was frightened, and looked up suddenly to see if he meant what he said. His back was toward the window. Had he occupied a reverse position she would have seen that his eyes were not kindled with the glow of love, that he spoke in anger, and to satisfy his conscience, not because he had made up his mind that she, Salome, was the only woman that could make him happy. The Babbis cay that the first man was made male-female, and was parted asunder, and that the perfect man is only to be fqucd In the union of the two served halves. So each half wanders about tho world seeking its mate, and gets attached to wrong halves, and this is the occasion of much misery ; ocly whero the right organio seotions coaleeco is there perfect harmony. It djd vos seem as it Philip and Salome were the two halves graviating tuwards each other, for the attraction was small, and the thr.uat together cams from without, was due, in fact, to the uninviting hand of Mrs Sidebottoro. "Come," Baid he, "J wait for an answer. I see no other way of getting out of our difficulties. What J now propose will assure tq you and your mother a right in this house, and Mrs Sidebottom will be able to obtain admission only by your permission. Do you see? I cannot, without a moral wound and breakdown or my self-respect, accept a share of the mill without indemnifying you, according to what I believe to have been the intentions of my uncle. You refuse to talfe anything to which yon have not a right. Accept me, and you have all that has fallen to me." "Certainly Philip's proposal was not made in a tender manner. He probably perceived that it was unusual and inappropriate, for he added in a quieter tone, '•' Rely on it, that J. will do my utmost to make you happy ; and J belieye firmly that with you at my Bide my happiness will ba complete. I am a strjctly conscientious man, and I will conscientiously give you all the lore, respept, and forebearance that a wife has a right to demand. 1 ' " You mast give me time to consider,' 1 said Salome, timidly. " JSot ten minnles," answered Philip, hastijy. "J want an answer at once. That woman upstairs — I mean my aunt —I, I particularly wish to knock her down with the news that sho is checkmated.'' Again Salome looked up at him, trying' to form her decision by his face, by the expression of his eyes, bat she could not see whether real love streamed out of them, such as pertainly did not find utterappe by the toneue. Her heart was beating fast. D,id she love him P She liked him. She looked up to him. Some of the old regard which had been lavished on the uncle devolved on Philip with (he inheritance as his by right, as the representative of the house. Salome had been accustomed all her life to have recourse to old Mr Pennycomequiek in all doub*. in every trouble to look to him aa a guide, to lean on him as a stay, to fly to him as a protector. And now that she was friendless she felt the need of someone, Btrong, trustworthy and kind, to whom she could have recourse as she had of old to Mr Pennycomequick. Mrs Sidebottom had been hostile, but Philip had been friendly. Salome recognined in him a scrupulously upright miDd, and with a girlish ignorance of realities, invested him with a halo of goodness and heroism, which were not his due. There was in him considerable selfreliance ; he was not a vain, a conceited man ; but be was a man who know his own mind and resolutely held to his opinion — that Salome saw, or believed sho saw ; and female weakuess-is always incline^ to be attracted by strength. Moreover, Jjer sister ifanet had been strong in expressing her disapproval of Philip, her dislike of his formal ways, his wooden manner, his want of that ease and polish whioh she had come in France to exact of every man as essential. Salome had combated the ridicule, the detraction, with which her sister spoke of Philip, and had become his champion in her little family pircle. "I think-I really think," said Salome, " that you must give me time to consider what you have said." She moved to leave the room. "No,' 1 answered he, "you shall not go. I muat have my answer in a Yes or a No, at once. Oome, give me you hand." She hesitated. It was a little wanting in eooajdpratjon for her, thus to press for an immediate answer. He had promised to show her the forbearance due tp a wife, he was hardly showing her that due to a girl at the most critical moment of Jier life. She stood steeped in thought, and alternate flushes of colour and pauseß of pallor showed the changes of feeliog in her heart. Philip so tar respected her hesitation that he kept silence, but he was not inclined to 6u#'er the hesitation to continue long. Love, Philip had never felt, nor had Salome ; but Philip was conscious of pleasure in the society of the girl, of felling an interest in her such as he entertained fat no one else. He respected and admired her. Ho was aware that she exerted over him a softening, humai ising influence, such as was exercised over him by no one else. Presently, doubtfully, as if she were putting fotth her fingers to touch what might scoroh her, Salome extended her right hand. "Is that yes risked. 7

"yes." : '! And," said he, " I have your assurance that yon never go bwk from your wotfd. Now," there recurred to bis mind at that moment his aunt's sneer about hlalaek of wit in not offering Salome his arm ; " and now," he saH, ' let us go toge' her and tell my auct that you take all my share, along with me. Lst me offer you — my arm." {To be continued.)