TALES & SKETCHES.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 956, 27 June 1890, Page 7

TALES & SKETCHES.

[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.] A BITTEE BIRTHRIGHT OR, LADY GILMORE’S TEMPTATION. BY DORA. RUSSELL, Author of ‘Footprints in the Snow, 5 ‘The Broken Seal,’ ‘ The Track of the Storm,’ &c. [All Rights Reserved.] CHAPTER XI. A Foist Suspicion. Three days later the Hon. Kate Butler ariived at Wrothsley, and Lady Gilmore gladly welcomed her. She wai a clever, bright looking girl, and undoubtedly handsome, and she had one fixed purpose in life, of which, however, she did not speak. She meant to marry well, and she knew that Lord Gilmore was very rich, and that he was also good-looking, and for the rest what did it matter? She had been brought up in a bad school, a school of wrangling and hitterness, of poverty and debts, and her heart bad not softened in it, but had grown hard and strong. .* I am good-looking,’ she told herself, ‘ and 1 m°an not to throw my looks away,’ and she was not one to lightly change her mind. She therefore returned Ladv Gilmore’s greeting with the greatest effusion, and expressed the utmost delight at the prospect of her visit. ‘ It is so good of yon to come,’ said Lady Gilmore, ‘ when we are so quiet. Gilmore, I am thankful to say, is gathering strength fast, but still his arm pains him very much sometimes—ah, my dear, we have had a dreadful time.’ ‘lt must have been too dreadful ! I never was bo shocked, so horrified ; and the wretched man who did it has never been discovered, Lady Gilmore ?’ ‘And never will be, of course; it was a poacher, no doubt—and—and my boy might have died !’ Lady Gilmore’s dark eyc-s filled with tears ns she said the lash words, and Miss Butler I caught her hand and pressed it sympathisingly- ‘ You must not grieve about it, all danger is over now,’she said, soothingly. * Yes, but when 1 remember my anguish—’ ‘ We feel so much for you, mother and I.’ Miss Butler had expressive, Irish blue eyes, and she made very good use of them during the interview with Lady Gilmore, who was satisfied as she looked at her, that she was a girl with deep feelings and a tender heart.

‘ Gilmore must admire her,’she thought, bat before the evening was over neither the keen witted gill nor the mother were by any means certain of this fact.

Gilmore did not dine with them, for he always took hia meals in his own rooms since his illness, as he was still quite unable to use one hand and arm. But at his mother’s request he went during the evening into her boudoir, and there saw Miss Butler. He saw a tall handsome girl toying with a feather fan, who rose to receive him, and silently clasped his hand, with her blue eyes fixed ou his face, as though her heart was too full to speak. * Well, Mias Butler, and how are you V he said, without any responsive emotion. * And you ?’ said Miss Butler, in a half■ whisper.

‘ Oh, I’m pulling myself together again all right. So you’ve been staying with the Cadogans ; any news there ?’ ‘I think not,’ said the Hon. Kate, reseating herself, and during the rest of the evening she dropped anything sentimental, and tried to amuse Gilmore with her bright and clever tongue. But she saw very well that she was not amusing him : that he listened with politeness and laughed at her sallies ; but that his bright hazel eyes did rot linger on her handsome face. She, in fact, was a young woman of penetration, and when she retired to bed that night she understood very well that Gilmore had had nothing to do with her invitation to Wrcthsley. • But it is such a splendid place,’ she thought, with a half-sigh, and she decided it were well to remain, and that perhaps afier all Gilmore might succumb to her attraction.

But the next morning 9he saw nothing of him until after luncheon time. He wished her to go away in truth, and was quite aware that among marriageable young ladies he was regarded with great favour. Miss Butler the* efore felt very much chagrined, and found it very dull sitting through a loug morning with Lady Gilmore, and to relieve her mind stood for some time gazing out of the windows upon (as it chanced) tho snowy park. And presently along the torraco in front of th’. house she perceived Nancy Loftus and the children passing and repusaiog on tho walks, which had been swept. ‘There are your children, Lady Gilmore,’ she said, * and who is that pretty girl walking with them V

‘That is their young governess, Mbs Loftus,’ replied Lady Gilmore. * She seems a handsome girl.’ ‘She is good-looking; she was rocommended ' v Lady Bleukensop, the General’s wife, you know.’ ‘ Ah,’ answered Mis» Butler, thoughtfully, and she said nothing more. She. won watching the el nder girlish figure in block on the terrace below, noting the blooming complexion, and the lithe, light footsteps. Other eyes also were watching that slight form. Gilmore, impatient of restraint, always felt angry when he saw Nancy Loftus and his little sisters that he was bound by his promise to not to join them, and his fancy grew stronger and stronger for the dark eyed governess. After luncheon, he went down to chat with I Miss Butler, and at his mother’s suggestion walked out with her for half-an-hour on the

terrace also in the frosty air. The Hon. Kate was charming and lively as usual, and her laugh rang clear and shrill. She amused Gilmore with society gossip, and bright sayings, but he gave a little shiver when the blast grew stronger, and a faint shower of snow began to fall, and said it was too chill for him to dare to remain out any longer. ‘ I have to wrap myaelf up like an old woman, you know now,’ he said, smiling, ‘ l am always freezing.’ ‘By-and-bye you will be quite well and strong again.’ ‘ I hope so, bub I do not feel up to much now.'

He accompanied her back to his mother’s room, and talked to her a little while there, but when Lady Gilmore said she would send l"or the children to have tea in the boudoir, so that Miss Butler might be introduced to them, Gilmore made an excuse that he was going to smoke, and so again left the two ladies to themselves. But Gilmore was not going to smoke ; he had heard his mother request the footman to bring the children to her room, and he meant to seize this opportunity to have another interview with Nancy Loftus.

A quarter of an hour later Nancy heard a light rap at the schoolroom door, as she sat alone there, and when she said * come in,' Gilmore’s smiling face appeared. * May I enter ?’ he asked. ‘Oh, uo, no,’ said Nancy, rising in quick alarm, ‘the children are only gone for a few minutes ; you must not come in here.’ ‘ Come and walk in the corridor, then, tor a little while, it seems an age since T saw you last.’ Nancy went to the schoolroom door, and as she stood a moment there, he took her hand, and drew her gently into the corridor. * Let us go to the other end,’ he said in a low tone, ‘and when they come back we 'shall hear them, and I can escape by the staircase.’ ‘But this is wrong, I am sure it is wrong,’ half whispered Nancy, who felt afraid. * Yes, Vwrong that we can’t walk and talk openly together—not wrong that I should wish to see you.’ ‘ And Miss Butler—l saw you walking on the terrace with her this morning ?’ ‘ Yes, I have just come in from a duty that my mother forced upon me, but all the time I was wishing I was here, and when she sent for the children I made an excuse, and here I am you see.’ ‘ Miss Butler seems very handsome ?’ ‘ She’s a fine showy sort of a girl, and oh, doesn’t she talk.’ ‘ Well, do you mean ?’ 4 Rather amusingly, but I felt intensely bored, as all tho time I was wishing to be with you.’ It must be admitted that these words

were very pleasant to Nancy’s ears. She liked Gilmore, and felt naturally flattered that he so greatly admired her. Yet she

always felt half-guilty when she was talking to him, and when she had met him at the end of the corridor to receive the books he had promised her, she had told him that she dare not do so again.

But Gilmore would not listen. ‘ Did you shut the children into the schoolroom ?’ he asked.

* Yes, but I cannot tell whether they will stay there, you know.’ ‘ But surely you can have a few minutes to yourself—a few moments for me ?’ ‘ But just think, Lord Gilmore— ’ ‘Will you not risk something for my sake? 1 know I would risk much for yours.’ Nsncy’s heart beat very fast at these words, and though she only stayed a few minutes with Gilmore she admitted to herself when she reached her own bedroom carrying the packet of books that he had brought her, that these stolen interviews were very sweet. Yet the next morning she felt very repentant, for the post brought her a long and loving letter from her dear mother.

Mrs Loftus had felt Nancy’s loss at home even more krenly than she had expected. And they had had sickness in the little house, for Mrs Barclay (Aunt Fannie) had been seized with so severe an attack of bronchitis, that she had never been able to leave her sister-in-law, and had felt so alarmed about her own health, that she was afraid to go abroad alone, aceording to hsr usual custom in the winter.

All this home news—the little struggles and trials—seemed a sort of reproach to Nancy, when she reflected that she was certainly risking her chance of helping her mother by her imprudence in meeting Lord Gilmore. Still she was but a girl. And her life at Wrothsley had certainly been a very dnlLone, before her acquaintance with Gil. more commenced Bit she made up her mind to he very careful, and Gilmore did riot see her for two days; not until his mother sent for the children to have tea w th Mi s Bu'ler and herself, and Nancy had felt these two days very dreary and long. So when Gilmore knocked at the schoolroom door, and drew her i to the corridor, in her heart sue was by uo mean* unwilling to go. They went to the furthest end of the corridor, and stood leaning against the staircase door, wlr-la Gi’rn ire was supposed to bi smoking in h’3 own rooms, and Miss Butler was fuming nt his absence, all the j while that she was smiling and taking to Lady Gilmore and tho children.

And of what wore the two in the dimlylighted corridor talking? Was it of the old old story of youth and love and hope? Not yet. They stood there looking in each other’s faces, and smiling and saying light foolish words. Such a short while ago strangers, but now they felt warm friend?, and were glad to meet, o.nd loth to part. * I am going away to town for a day or two,’ Gihnore told her, ‘ T mu?t go, for T want to see about some busbies •, and to tell the t-u’.h also I want to keep out of Miss Butler's way—and I want you to promise me something before I go ?’ ‘ I can make no rash promises,’ smiled Nancy. ‘But this is not a rash, one.’ ‘I must hear it first.’ . ‘ Will you promise then to come and walk here every afternoon at this time when I am away, andrto promise, too, to come on the day I return ?’ ‘ How shall I know the day yon return.’ 4 1 shall write and let you know if I may.'

I ‘And how long will you be away.’ ‘ A week, not longer—aud I am going tomorrow. I mean to get a telegram tomorrow morning to call me to town and away from the attractions of Miss Butler,’ And Gilmore laughed softly. ‘ Are you afraid of them V ‘ I am afraid of her prying eyes and sharp tongue—and, besides, I want to bring you something from town.’ ‘ Oh, no, I want nothing.’ ‘ Don’t refuse to give me a small pleasure. Well, will you come here everyday then, when I am away.’ ‘ Why do you wish this ?’ said Nancy, in a low tone, casting down her shining dark eyes. ‘Can’t you guess? Ah, you do ! I wish it because I want you to think of me ; to know that I am thinking of you—every moment, every hour.’ Naucy gave a little saucy shake of her pretty head. ‘ Don’t you believe this ?’ went on Gilmore, quite earnestly ; and he tried to take her hand, but Nancy shyly drew it away. ‘ ’Tis true, I swear ; I shall see a lovely face —as I see it now—always before me.’ Nancy glanced up archly. ‘ Do you say these pretty things to Miss Butler ?’ she said. ‘No, I don’t,’ answered Gilmore, halfangrily ; for he was unused to find his lovemaking not met more than half-way. * I say to no one what I say to you.’ Nancy laughed softly; Bhe did not quite believe all his words, yet she was pleased to listen to them, and naturally flattered by the attentions of this good-looking man, of so much higher social position than her own, and Nancy was by no means indifferent to these vanities. ‘Then,’ she said smilingly, ‘I have to walk up and down here in the cold, for a week ?’ ‘Will you, Nancy? say you will?’ answered Gilmore eagerly, again trying to take her hand, for his ill-nature had vanished as quickly as it came. But at this moment the voices of the children were to be heard at the other end of the corridor, and with an impatient gesture, Gilmore silently pressed Nancy’s hand, and then quietly opened the door which led to the staircase, disappeared behind it, and Nancy was once more alone. She waited a moment and then walked forward to meet the children, who could talk of nothing but Miss Butler. ‘ She’s such a pretty young lady, taller than you are, Miss Loftus,’ they told her. * She has Irish blue eyes,’ said Dossy. * Quite blue,’ echoed Flossy ; and during the remainder of ■ the day, Nancy heard of little else ; and as Gilmore spent part of the evening in the company of his mothor and her guest, ‘ the pretty young lady ’ retired to bed in a more hopeful condition of mind, regarding the owner of Wrothsley. But the next morning all her fond hopes were dashed to tho ground. About eleven o’clock, which was earlier than he generally appeared, Gilmore entered his mother’s room, dressed for travelling,, and, to his mother’s eonsternatibn, announced he was on the point of starting for town. * You are not fit to go, Gilmore,’ cried Lady Gilmore, starting to her feet. ‘lt is a necessity, mother, so I must be fit,’ he answered briefly ; and Lady Gilmore sank back in her chair pale and trembling, for she remembered at thi3 moment the myserious letter that Gilmore had received on his sick bed, and the grand-aunt’s warning.

i ‘ T am sorry to be obliged to leave when ' you are here, ’ continued Gilmore courteously, turning to Miss Butler, whose fine comi plexion had suddenly paled ; * but it is anl avoidable.’ i ‘I am very sorry,’ answered Miss Butler 1 in a strained tone. ‘ But how long will you be away ? Surely not many days ?’ asked Lady Gilmore, eagerly. ‘ Only a few days I expect.’ * Then Kate will be with ns still when you return, I hope,’ said his mother. * I hope so, too,’ smiled Gilmore, and then he shook hands with Miss Butler, and lightly kissed his mother’s cheek, who, however, clung to him, holding both his hands. ‘ Oh ! my dearest, do not go ?’ she cried. ‘ Oh, if you must go, will you promise to he I very careful, Gilmore—l shall be miserable I every hour 3> , ou are away ’ * Did you evei hear of such a silly old woman. Miss Butler,’ said Gilmore, with rather an uneasy laugh ; ‘ wanting to tie her big son to her apron strings !’ ‘lt is but natural she should be anxious about you,’ answered Mis Butler, with a certain reserve in her generally lively tones. ‘ 'l’hare is nothing to be anxious about,’ went on Gilmore, ‘ i have some business to see after, that is all.* ‘ Are you going to the hou c e in Eaton Square?’ inquired Lady Gilmore anxiously. ‘Yes, I have tele raphed to Proctor to have my ro r m‘ ready, W ell, good-l'ye mother, take good care of Miss Butler while I I am away and with a smiling glance of his haz-1 eyes at Miss Butler, and a goodnatured nod to his mother ho 1. ft the room. There was an uncomforcablo pause after ho was gone, and then Lady Gilmore forced herself to speak, and tried to hide her agitation and her fears. * ! t is most unfortunate his being obliged to go in this hurried way,’ she said. ‘ It is rather strange, Isn’t it ?’ replied Miss Butler, remembering certain scaudals about Gilmore, which had been known to her, but which had not prevented h r think, ing of him as a husband. ‘He said it was some pressing business—law business most probably—lawyers are so tiresome.’ ‘Yes,’ said Miss Butler, and then she I changed the subject, noting, however, with those sharp, bright, bln?, eyes ->f here, how restless, and miserably anxious Lady Gilmore continued all the rest of the morning. ‘I do not believe it is law business,’ she kept thinking ; but she said nothing more about Gilmore’s absence, for she was a young woman who knew when to speak and when to be silent. And the same day a visitor arrived at Wrothsley who served to change the current of her thoughts. This was Sir John Oakes, who had been laid up with an accident on the hunting field since he was last at

Wrothsley, and now appeared looking pale and ill. He inquired for Gilmore, but hearing he had started in the morning for towD, he asked if he could see Lady Gilmore, and was thus ushered into that lady’s presence and MiBS Butler’s. He was so nervous and agitated that Lady Gilmore could not understand what was the matter with him, and answered so vaguely aud wide of the mark to Miss Butler’s lively speeches that she set him down In her mind as little better than a fool. Suddenly, however, with a deep blush rising on his homely, but not uupleasing features, Sir John blurted out the reason of his visit. * I—l suppose,’ he said, * that you have Miss Loftus with you still ?’ * Miss Loftus ?’ repeated Lady Gilmore, in great surprise. *Do you mean the children’s governess ?’ * Yes,’ answered Sir John, turning scarlet to the roots of his light tawny hair. ‘ I—l —met her at Sir Charles IBlenkenEop’s, you know—l hope she is very well ?’ ‘I believe she is quite well,’ said Lady Gilmore, haughtily and repreasively. Sir John was silent for a moment, and looked irresolute ; then, with a great effort, he spoke again—- ‘ I should like to see her. Lady Gilmore—with your permission may I see her ?’ Lady Gilmore regarded him with absolute astonishment. * See her ? Ido not understand. Have you any business with her, any communications to make from Lady Blenkensop ?’ ‘ I admire her very much,’ answered Sir John sturdily, now gaining courage, for he had oalled with a settled purpose in his mind, ‘ and I should like to see her if you will allow me ?’ Lady Gilmore’s sallow complexion flushed, and ahe slightly shrugged her shoulders. ‘ You must forgive me when I tell yon I never heard of such a thing,’ she said coldly. ‘ Visit the children’s governess ! Impossible, I cannot allow it.’ ‘ But why, Lady Gilmore ?’ * Why ?’ repeated Lady Gilmore, hastily, ‘ Your own sense ought to tell you why, Sir John ?’ ‘I cannot see it,’ he answered quietly, * you must be quite sure I should not have asked you this favour unless I had regarded Miss Loftus as my equal—which she is—and with the greatest admiration and respect.’ Again Lady Gilmore slightly shrugged her shoulders. ‘ We need not discuss the question,’ she said, *if is impossible that you can soe Miss Loftns under this roof. If you wish to do so, you mu3t see her when she is under Lady Blenkensop’3 protection, not mine.’ Sir John bowed angrily and coldly, and a few moments later he took his leave, and the two ladies looked at each other as the door closed behind him. * Did you ever hear of a man making such an extraordinary reqnest ?’ asked Lady Gilmore. Miss Butler raised her pretty dark eyes before she made any reply. * "S ou are very courageous,’ she said, ‘ to keep such an attractive governess in the house.’ ‘ I never regarded her as very attractive,’ answered Lady Gilmore hastily, ‘ I have scarcely looked at her. Lady Blenkensop brought her here, you know, when Gilmore was very ill, and I have always thought her a quiet sort of girl.’ ‘ Yet that young man is evidently in love with her,’ continued Miss Butler, with a cold hard smlie. ‘I am really quite anxious to see such a paragon—let us pay a visit to the schoolroom, Lady Gilmore—perhaps we shall find Sir John Oakes with the governess in spite of your refusal.’ * Impossible !’ cried Lady Gilmore, starting to her feet. ‘He dare not—but we can go and see.’ And they actually did go ; but when they reached the schoolroom, which Lady Gilmore entered with imperious haste, they found a very quiet, aud apparently peaceful scene. Nancy was sitting readit g near the shaded lamp on the table, and the children were playing at building a church with mimic bricks. Lady Gilmore felt ashamed of her suspicions as she looked at them, and made a kind of apology to Nancy. ‘ I have brought Miss Butler to see your schoolroom, Miss Loftus,’ she said. Nancy rose and bowed, and Miss Butler looked at her critically—looked at her pretty feature-', the blooming complexion, the slender, yet shapely form. ‘ She has a lovely face,’ she thought ; ‘it is madness for Lady Gilmore to have her in the house.’ But she crossed the room and talked very affably to Nancy and the children, and presently took up the book that Nancy had been reading, and as she did so, she saw With her quick eyes a half frightened expression pass.over Nancy’s face ‘ You are reading this ?’ she said carelessly. ‘Do you like it ?’ ‘ I have scarcely got into it yet.’ auswered Nancy ; ami as she spote Alisa Butler turned to the fly leaf, on whicn, in a moment, she perceived insoiibed the single word, ‘ Gilmore.’ But she made no remark ; she laid the book quietly down and no one looking at her could have guessed that at this instant a new su'picion had entered into her heart.

CHAPTER XII. Confirmation. Mis 3 Butler said nothing to Lady Gilmore, after they, had quitted the schoolroom together, of having seen her son’s natno in the book Miss L}fcm was reading ; nor did she hint at the suspicions which had flashed into her own mind. ‘She is very handsome,’ she Eaid,"quietly, I as they- walked alono the corridor, ‘ too I handsome for a-gdverneß?,’ ‘She is good, look ing,’ admitted Lady Gilmore. grudgingly, who had also noticed with dismay Saw pretty Nancy looked in the soft light of 'fche shaded lamp. ‘She is more than that,’ answered Miss Butler, r I do not wonder that Sir John Oakes or any other young man should admire her ;’ and as she said these words, Lady Giknore’s sallow cheeks flushed, and she begaii to think it very thoughtless of Lady Blenkensop to have brought such a girl to Wrothsley. ‘She ia too young,’ she said, sharply, * the

children ought to have an older woman to £ook after them, I think.’ * She looks like a girl who would be a great flirt—it is certainly very amusing about poor Sir John Oakes V And Mias Butler laughed, and then began to talk to Lady Gilmore about the armour ; but she was not thinking of the old breast plates and helmets, but of Gilmore’s name in Nancy’s book.

And the next morning she asked Lady Gilmore if she might take the children out with her for a walk in the park.

‘ And we’ll leave the handsome governess at home, if we may ?’ she said, smiling ; ‘ I hate to talk to people of that kind ?’ *Of course, my dear,’ and Lady Gilmore ; * and I am sure the children will be delighted to go with you, only don’t let them bore you.’ ‘ They could never do that ; they are two dear, beautiful little girls.’ ‘They are like Gilmore, I think,’ said Lady Gilmore, softly, and then she sighed, anxiously thinking of her absent son.' The children were delighted to go with Miss Butler, and that young lady very soon, and with affected carelessness, introduced the name of their governess.

‘Do you like her?’ she asked. * Ob, very much,’ they both answered, e she is always kind and pleasant.’ ‘Does your brother like her ? But I suppose he doesn’t know her ?’ continued Miss Butler, pursuing her inquiries. 1 Oh, but he does, though,’ replied Dossy, with some pride in her tone. *1 introduced them in the park one day, and he walked with us to the lake, and then he went away ; and another day we bad a talk with him, too, and he said something to Miss Loftus that made her face turn very red, but I do not know what it was.’

‘Ah !’ said Mi3s Butler, and she drew in her pretty red lips tightly, and an angry flash shot into her blue eyes. ‘And,’ she asked a moment later, does Gilmore ever go into the sohoolroom to play with you ?’ * Oh, no,’ said Dossy, ‘ and yet we are not so far off him, either, so it is very mean of him,, for his rooms, yon know, are in the wing next to ours, but there’s a staircase between them, but the doors are locked, for Flosey and I have tried.’ Miss Butler made one or two more inquiries, and then made an appointment with the children to view the armonr in the corridor during the afternoon. ‘ Miss Loftus often walks in the corridor,’ volunteered Dossy, ‘ every afternoon, about five now, she goes ; but it’s too cold for our taste, we prefer sitting by the schoolroom fire.’

‘Ah !’ again ejaculated Miss Butler, for sow she thought she understood it all. Why Gilmore had been cold and indifferent to her ; why he never lingered by her side. ‘He is carrying on an intrigue with the governess,’ Bhe thought, vindictively - ‘but 1 must be sure, and then Lady Gilmore shall know.’

She went the same afternooD to the corridor, and having rapped at the schoolroom door, found the children alone there. ‘ Miss Loftus is walking outside,’ they told her; and then, when they proceeded to view the armour, they met Nancy, but Miss Butler treated her with but scant courtesy, merely slightly bowing her head as they passed. ‘We’ll be back soon, Misß Loftns,’ cried Dossy, looking round, ‘we are only going to show Miss Butler the armour, some of it is very good, you know.’ ‘Very well,’ answered Nancy, and with a flushed face and a beating heart she retired into the schoolroom, for there had been something in Miss Butler’s manner she could not understand. The other three—the ohildren and Miss Butler —walked on to the very end of the corridor, Dossy pointing out the different pieces of ancient armour as they went. When they reached the door that led to the staircase, which was covered with green baize, Miss Butler touched it. ‘ls this the door,’ she said, ‘that you t®!d me about, that leads somewhere or other ?’ Dossy eagerly explained :— ‘ It leads to the west wing,’ she said, ‘ where Gilmore’s rooms are ; you go in there, and then come to a staircase, and you go up the Btaircase, acd then come to another door, but that one is always kept locked ; in fact, I do not think it ha 3 a key ; it is never used.’ Miss Butler smiled vaguely. ‘ And these rooms,’ she said, pointing to one or two doors near the end of the corridor, * are they all used ?’ ‘Oh, no,’ answered Dossy, * they are bed rooms, but no one ever sleeps in them ; the only rooms used down this corridor are ours —our schoolroom and bedroom, you know, and our maid’s room, and our governess’s—the re t are empty, like this one,’ and she turned the haudle of one of the unused bedroom doors as she spoke. * They seem nice rooms,’ said Miss Butler, looking in ; and then she returned slowly up the corridor, her curiosity having 1 een sati fled, and declined Dosay’s.,.eagerly urged hospitality to take tea with them in the schoolroom. i She did not mention this visit to the armoury at dinner to Lady Gilmore, nor did she again speak of the governess during the days of Gilmore’s continued absence. Ho was away five days, and then one morning to his mother’s unepeakablo delight she received a letter from him, to tell her that he would return to Wrothsley on tho following afternoon. ‘He has hurried back to see you, I am sure, my dear,’ she said, joyfully, to Miss Butler, whose face flushed strangely, as Lady Gilmore said these words, but it was Dot a happy blush that stained Miss Butler’s cheeks.

And Mio same post which carried the news of her son’s return »o Lady Gilmoie, brought another letter to Wrothsley. This was for Miss Loftus, and though not directed in tho same handwriting was yet from Gilmore, and Nancy read it with a fast-beating, happy, yet troubled heart. ‘ My dear Miss Loftus (I had almost written my dear sweet Nancy, for as such I always think and dream of you), l shall be back to-morrow, and you know, I’m sure, why I am returning so soon ? I am coming back to see you ; to find out if you have kept your promise, and walked In the corridor every day while I have been away j

and if you will keep it still, and meet me to-morrdw at five o’clock at the old trysting place ? Do, sweet Nancy, for lam longing to See you, and I remain always devotedly you rs, —Gilmore. ’ No wonder that Nancy’s young pulses throbbed and her heart beat fast as she read these tender words. He loved her, then, and if he loved her truly, what was there to part them, Nancy not unnaturally thought. True, Lady Gilmore would be very angry, but after all, what could she say ? ‘My fat L-r was a gentleman,’ Nancy reflected a 'little proudly, ‘and though Gilmore may be very rich aud we are poor, still money is not everything.’ Poor little woman, she had only lately begun to realize that if not everything it is certainly much ! That it makes happiness or misery, bright lives or sad ones, there is no doubt. The want of it is galling, the need of it great, but Nancy was too young quite to understand the vast difference the world would see between her position and Lord Gilmore’s.

Her heart was in a swset flutter all the day after she had read Gilmore’s letter, and her dark, shining, dewy eyes wandered again and again to the face of the school clock, as the hours wore away, until the time she was to meet her lover.

And where was Lord Gilmore? At three o’clock he arrived at Wrothsley, and his mother, who had been watching for the carriage which had been sent to the station to meet him, hurried down to welcome him, and clasped him eagerly in her arms. He was looking stronger than when he went away, and he kissed his mother goodnaturedly on both cheeks. 4 And how is the dear old woman ?' he said.

* Oaly too happy to see you again, dearest,’ she half whispered, with her face against his ; ‘I have Been so anxious, so afraid.’

‘ What for ?’ he answered, iightly. ‘And you still have Miss Butler here, I suppose?’ ‘Yes, she is a dear, kind girl, and I am fond of her, Gilmore.’ He smiled, and gave his shoulders a little shrug. ‘You women,’ he said, ‘are always in ecstacies over one another until you fall out; however, there is no doubt Miss Kate Butler is a good-looking girl.’ A few minutes later he was talking to Miss Kate Butler in his mother’s boudoir, and he never noticed the peculiar gleam in her blue eyes. Her manner was bright and gay to him as usual, and Gilmore talked to her in his pleasant, careless fashion for nearly an hour. Then she noticed he glanced for a moment at his watch, and rose and left the room shortly afterwards. ‘ Well,’ he said, ‘I am going for a smoke and a drink, if you ladies will excuse me ; but I’ll Bee you again during the evening, Miss Butler.

‘Do dine with us this evening, Gi/more,’ urged his mother ; ‘ I am sure dear Kate here will not mind your not being able to use your arm yet.’ ‘Consider my vanity !’ he answered, with a laugh ; ‘ having one’s food cut for one like a baby before a young lady ?’ ‘ You know I should not mind,’ said Kate Butler.

‘ We shall see,’ smiled Gilmore, and then, he went away. And he bad scarcely left the room, when Miss Butler did so also. • I have some letters to write before dinner,’ she told Lady Gilmore ; * you won’t mind my leaving you alone, will you V •Of course not, my dear child. Give my love to your mother, and tell her how great a pleasure it is to us to have you here.’ Thus Miss Butler was free to go, but she had not retired to write letters. With her light s vift footsteps she passed at ouce from the part of the house where Lady Gilmore’s boudoir was situated, and proceeded to the corridor where the armour hung, and where the children and their governess lived. When she arrived here she went quickly and silently past the schoolroom door, and, without meeting or seeing a single creature, walked to the very end of the corridor, and having done this, opened the door of one of the unused bedrooms there, and in an instant had vanished in its gloom. She left the door one shade ajar, and crouched down behind it, and waited patiently more than half-an-hour. Then she plainly heard a man’s footsteps (apparently) descending the Btaircase behind the green baize door, which the children had told her led to Gilmore’s rooms. Her breath came short, and her heart beat fast, for a minute later the door opened, and Gilmore himself appeared. He did not wait'long alone. A light footstep and the rustle of a woman’s gown now fell on Miss Butler’s strained ears, and with a little exclamation of joy, Gilmore advanced a few steps, holding out both his hands. ‘Nancy ! lam so glad, so happy to see you again !’ Miss Butler heard the words quite distinctly, and she heard the answer. ‘I have kept faith with you, you see,’ came from Nancy’s rosy lips. (To be continued.)