TALES & SKETCHES.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 957, 4 July 1890, Page 6

TALES & SKETCHES.

[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.] A BITTER BIRTHRIGHT OR, LADY GILMORE’S TEMPTATION. BY DORA RUSSELL, Author of ‘ Footprints in the Snow,’ 'The Broken Seal,’ ‘ The Track of the Storm,’ &c. [Alb Rights Reserved.l CHAPTER XIII. 'Tingling Ears. Still Miss Butler stood listening, with olenohed hands and bated breath, though she knew that Gilmore’s words and Nancy's were not intended for her ears. And presently those very ears began to tingle with shame, for she heard her own name mentioned, and Gilmore’s comments on it. * I have been on the rack for the last hour,’ he went on, still holding Nancy’s hands, dying to come to you, yet forced to talk to that girl my mother has staying here.’ ‘ Miss Butler ?’ said Nanoy, softly. ‘ Yes, she is a perfect nuisance; one of those young women so desperately on the look-out for a husband that she tries to attract every man she sees. I only wish she would go.’ ‘Yet, she is handsome 5’ ‘Do you think so ? She is too sharp, looking for my taste, and always reminds me, somewhat unpleasantly, of her father, who is an impecunious old scamp.’ Nanoy gave a little laugh. ' Bat I did not oome here to talk of Miss Butler,’ continued Gilmore, ‘but to someone much sweeter and lovelier. Nanoy. did you walk here every day while I was away ? The half-whispered ‘yes,’ that fell so sweetly from Nancy’s lipß, still reached Miss Butlei’s burning ears. ' You dear, dear girl! And you thought of me sometimes then—tell me Nanoy?’ Again there was a little tremulous * yes.’ * And I thought of you every moment of the time,'said Gilmore, ardently; ‘didn’t I tell you your sweet face would be always before me? Well, it was, Nancy—and see what I have brought you, a little gift to show you that you were not forgotten.’ lie drew from the pocket of his coat, and opened as he spoke a morocco case, and Miss Butler saw him. She saw, too, even though the corridor was but dimly lighted, the glitter of the diamonds within, and how magnificent was the ornament that Gilmore had purchased for Nanoy. * I’his is for you,’ he said; ‘ let me fasten it round your lovely little throat ?’ But the girl put up her hands in answer. ‘No, no!’ she cried, ‘I cannot take it. Lord Gilmore—l cannot take anything,’ " ‘She is playing a high game,’ bitterly refleeted Miss Butler. * But you mast,’ urged Gilmore. * Don’t yon like it ? I took such pains in choosing it for yon, and it was such a pleasure to me to do so.’ * It is beautiful,’ said Nancy, looking with half-averted eyes at the sparkling gaud; • but indeed you mubt not ask me to accept it, though it was so good of you to bring it.’ * But I do ask you ; I implore you to accept it, or you will make me think I have offended yon.’ * Tfc is not that—but— ’ ‘ What is it then, sweet Nancy ?’ The two were standing in their old attitude, leaning together against the green baize door, and suddenly—in a moment— Miss Butler saw Gilmore bend down and kiss Nancy’s sweet'upturned face. ‘Oh ! don’t, don’t Lord Gilmore!’ she cried, pushing him away. * But you know I love you ? Oh ! forgive me, Nancy, do not be angry—but you know I love you so wofl !’ ’ I will not oome here any more if you do that,’ said Nancy, in a balf-angry tone. ‘ T promise I will not theft ; you will oome to-morrow, Nancy, won’t you? I will not go away until you promise.’ 4 But you must go now, or the ohttdren will be coming out to look for me.’ ‘ Tiresome little brats 1’ 1 ’Tis nearly their tea-time, you know, so you mast go.’ ;■ * Will you oome half-an-hour earlier to. morrow, then ? I have scarcely had a word with yon ; will you promise to be here at half-past four o’clock to the minute ?’ 4 I will try.’ ‘And de take this, Nancy,’ said Lord Gilmor , pushing thej -wel-caae into Nanoy’s baud, and acioally as he did this, the schoolroom door at the other end of the corridor opened, and the children’s fair heads appeared, ‘ Hu3h, here are the children,’ whispered Nancy, 'now go ;’ and Gilmore after pressing her hand, in which he left the jewel-case, disappeared behind the green baize door, and Nanoy. after a moment’s thought, oonoealed the case in her dress, and then met the children who came running towards her, * We came to look for you,’ said Dossy ; It is twenty minntea past tea-time ; may wa, ring for it, Miss Loftus ?’ _ ‘ Yes, do dear, I will be with yun by the time it is there.’ answered Nanoy, in some confusion, ‘ bu. I am going into my own bedroom for a few minutes first.’ The listenei with the bitten lips and white face, heard all this, and then ventured slightly to open the door of the room where she had hidden herself, and she saw the children ran on, and the governess go into a room before she reached the schoolroom, and close the door behind her. She still waited and the schoolroom bell rang, and the schoolroom maid appeared carrying a tea tray, and presently the governess went into the schoolroom also, and Miss Butler decided that this was the time fo fly,

She went along the corridor again with ( those Bwift and silent footsteps of hers, and she met no one as when she came. Finally she reached her own bedroom, and then the hidden passion, rage, and shame in her own heart burst forth. She was pale, panting farious, and with clenched hands, knitted brows, and fierce bine eyes, she walked up and down her o >■ n bedroom, with hasty and irregular footsteps, considering how she could most bitterly punish the woman who had taken her intended lover away from her, and the man who had spoken of her so shamefully. ‘She did not appear again daring the evening; she felt she could not, but she presently sent her maid with a note to Lady Gilmore, to tell her she had been taken ill with a bad attack of neuralgia in her forehead, and asked to be excused appearing at dinner. And that fierce throbbing pain was only too real ! The violent emotions that she had gone through had sent the blood surging in her veins, and she was physically as well as mentally ill. The answer to this note was a visit from Lady Gilmore herself, Who was all anxiety and kindness when she saw the changed face of her young guest. But Miss Butler kept her tongue chain-'d. She was too clever Dot to know Lady Gilmore’s oharacter, and to be sure that if she told her now of her son’s delinquencies, that in that impulsive, passionate way of bars, she would probably act in such a manner that Gilmore would think himself bound to protect the girl that he bad got into trouble No, she would wait until to-morrow, and ■he did wait. She did not go down to breakfast, but kept her room all day, under pretence of illness ; but .during the afternoon - about half-past three—she 36nt for Lady Gilmore, and that lady, as she entered the room, saw by Miss Butler’s face that she had something serious to communicate to her.

‘ You are not worse, surely ray dear,’ asked Lady Gilmore, anxiously. * I am ill in body and ill in mind,’ answered Miss Butler, with great but suppressed excitement. ‘I have something to tell you, Lady Gilmore—something shameful.’ * Shameful !’ repeated Lady Gilmore, and her sallow cheeks paled. * Yes, most shameful ; but you must promise me. Lady Gilmore, before I tell you, to act wisely ; not to be led away by your just anger.’ 'ldo not understand you,’ faltered the mother, whose thoughts had turned instantly to her son. ‘Do you remember,’ went on Misaßntler, with gathering passion, which, however, she tried to keep in check, ‘the day when Sir John Oakes called and asked to see Miss Loftus, and we wont to the sohoolroom after he was gone ?’ ‘I remember—yes certainly but what has Miss Loftus to do with this ?’ * I am coming to that presently ; when we went into the schoolroom Miss Loftus was reading, and she laid down the book, and presently I took it up, and as I glanced at it it was a new book I knew—l saw Qilmpre’s name written on the first page.’ * Gilmore’s 1’ repeated Lady Gilmore in ooniternatioo, 4 YW, atiil Ml* Bttftit Hfcterly,

‘ and a sudden suspicion darted into my mind. I said nothing to you, for I thought it might be nothing ; she might have picked the book up in the library—anywhere—but still 1 thought it strange, and the next day, while the children were in the park with me, I asked them if they liked- their governess, and if their brother liked her. But of course he does not know her, I said.’ ‘“Oh! yes,” answered little Do3sy, “he knows her quite well; he has walked in the park with us, and one day he said something to Miss Loftus that made her faoa turn very red.” ’

1 1 cannot, I will not believe it!’ cried Lady Gilmore, starting to her feet. ‘ It is all too true ; wait until you hear the rest. I asked the children if their brother ever went into the sohoolroom to play with them, and they said no; but added that he might do so very well if ho liked, as there was a staircase from his wing of the house, communicating with the corridor where their rooms are.’

‘ That slaireaße is never used ; the door is always kept locked,’ said Lady Gilmore, loudly and passionately. ‘ Not always, it seem9,’ answered Misa Butler, scornfully, * not yesterday at least, for yesterday Gilmore weDt down it and met Miss Loftus by appointment at its foot.’ * How do you know 1 I will not believe it; the children must have invented this.’ ‘ The ohildren had nothing to do with it,’ said Mias Butler, the hidden passion and rage in her heart suddenly mastering her, and she too rose to her feet and stood facing Lady Gilmore. ' ‘ I saw them meet with my own eyes, Lady Gilmore ; I heard their lovemaking, and saw the diamonds he had brought her from town—and he kissed her— ’ * What!’ came hissing from Lady Gilmore’s white quivering lips. * He kissed her,’ repeated Miss Butler, vindictively, ‘and they agreed to meet again to-day—and they insultel me and my people, and spoke contemptuously of you.’ ‘This is too much—my God, this is too much !’ cried Lady Gilmore, and the expiossion of her faoe was so terrible that the angry girl opposite to her felt a momentary compassion for the unhappy mother. ‘I do not blame Gilmore so much,’ she said, ; as this wretched girl, who has no doubt inveigled him and tempted him, and you know what men are when a pretty face is concerned. But I want you to act with prudence, and not give this creature the opportunity of appealing to Gilmore before you tnrn her out »f the house. . Lady Gilmore did not answer immediately ; a str n. 9 look had come into her dark eyes, and her lips kept moving as though she were muttering to hcrailf, but no sound came forth. 1 1 want you to go with me now,’ continued Mias Butler, ‘ and see them meet, with your own eyes, as I did. I went into one of the unused bedrooms at the end of the corridor, and L left the door a shade ajar, and I heard every word they said, and I heard them agree to meet to-day. at half past four. Let them meet, Lady Gilmore, and wait nntil Gilmore is gone, and then send her away before she has the opportunity or chance of seeing Gilmore again.’ Lady Gilmore looked at Miss Butler as though she dfd not understand whftt she had

been Baying ; as though her own thoughts i were far away. ] ‘ What is it you have been saying ?’ she < bald. ' Tell me again,’ I Then Miss Butler repeated her advice, urging Lady Gilmore to make no scene before ' her sou. 'lf you do, you will only force him to defend her,’ she said. ‘ When he goes to meet her again Jet him find her gone.’ Lady Gilmore moaned aloud; * He could not even respect my roof, then,’ she uttered bitterly, ‘ not after all I’ve done and suffered for his sake.’ ‘lt was folly to have suoh a girl here, Lady Gilmore.’ ‘ What did I know or think of the girl 1’ answered Lady Gilmore. ‘ Did I dream that my son would fall so low that he would dishonour his mother’s roof ?’ *We are wasting time in talking,’ said Miss Butler, impatiently; ‘it is close on four now ; let us go at once, Lady Gilmore, while the childreu are still at their lessons, and the schoolroom door sure to be Bhut.’ And after a little farther persuasion, the younger woman’s stronger will prevailed, and the two quitted Miss Butler’s bedroom, and went together to the children’s corridor, passing quickly and quietly down it, and soon reaching the unused bedrooms at its end. The schoolroom door, as Miss Butler had expected, was shut, and the corridor as usual dimly lighted, and they met no one, and soon found themselves in the bedroom nearest to the green baize door, which led to the staircase behind it. They spoke very few words, and after they had been there a little while in the darkness, suddenly Miss Butler gripped hold of Lady Gilmore’s trembling throbbing hand. ‘ Listen !’ she whispered. ‘ I hear his footsteps.’

And her acute sense of hearing was true. A moment later Lady Gilmore also heard a footstep on the staircase beyond ; and yet a moment more, and the handle of the green baize door softly turned, and Gilmore was before them. Lady Gilmore’s heart beat so loudly and audibly at this moment that Miss Butler grew afraid that Gilmore’s attention might be attracted—but no, Be leaned against the green door for a second or two, and then walked a few steps leisurely forward, turned and came back to the door. He did this twice, and the third time as he was advancing, other footsteps fell on the two listeners’ ears, and a bright glad look passed over Gilmore’s face. ‘ Nancy 1 naughty little witch 1 I thought you were going to play me false this time,’ they heard him say. ‘No,’ answered Nancy’s voice; ‘but I was afraid of attracting the children’s attention by coming too soon.' * What little plagues they are, I wish they were out of the way. But one of my plagues I am happy to say is—Miss Butler is ill.’ The two women who were listening clasped eaoh other’s hands spasmodically at these words. ‘ Oh ! poor thing, what is the matter with her?’ said Nancy. ‘Something about her head, I believe,’ answered Gilmore, carelessly. * I only hope It may get worse.’ ‘You should not say that, and I am sure you don’t mean it.’ a . , ‘ Don’t I though. It worries me to talk to her all the>time I am thinking of. you, so I am very glad she is out of the way—may she remain so !’

A soft girlish langh now jarred on the listeners’ ears in reply to this speech of Gilmore’s. ‘ Lord Gilmore, I have something to say to yon,’ they heard next. * And what is it, sweet Nancy ?’ he asked. ‘ About the present you brought me—the diamond necklace—l cannot take it; it is here, you must take it back.’ ‘ Viper!’ reflected Mbs Butler at this moment. ‘ Wretoh 1* thought Lady Gilmore. ‘I shail do nothing of the kind,’ said Gilmore. * I bought it for you, and unless you keep it, I shall think you don’t like it, or that you hate me—which is it, Nancy ?’ ‘Neither you know very well—but it is too handsome, too grand for me.’ ‘ Nothing can be too handsome for you, or half handsome enough, for that matter. You are a little beauty, you know, Nancy, and you look so lovely at this moment,, that if it were not that I am afraid you would be Angry—’ ■ ‘ I shall be very angry, yon know what you promised yesterday, Lord Gilmore f ‘Yes, I remember—well, don’t be angry at auy rate.’ * But about this necklace—do please me by taking it back.’ ‘Do please me by keeping it,’ begged Gilmore. ‘ No, no, I cannot !’ ‘ Yes, yes, you can 1’ ‘ How you tease me, Lord Gilmore.’ ‘Do I, sweet Nancy? Well, I shall promise not to tease you any more, if you will keep the necklace.’ ‘ I oan bear it no longer,’ gasped Lady Gilmore in Miss Butler’s ear. ‘ You must,’ she hissed back.

And the two outside went prattling on sweat foolish words fit for no other’s ears ; while" the two crouoiiiug behind the closed door, listened with rage, jealousy, fury, increasing each moment in their hearts. It was all indeed that Miss Butier could do to restrain Lady Gilmore from bursting forth from her hidintj-place, and p >uriDg out her bathing indignation on the unsuspecting ears of her son. Love, true and strong, is great and beautiful that strange yearning of one life towards another, with its trust, its belief, its dawning hopes—but love-making ! Lot anyone recall tho unfinished phrases, * the momentary tou ,h<?H of finger-tips,’ the glances, tho sighs, tho hundred follies- and conceive what they would have felt if they had known that their love-making had been watched and overheard. Happily Gilmore and Nancy were quite ignorant of the four angry eyes, and the four greedy burning ears that were drinking in each tender whisper, eaoh amorous glance. Long Gilmore lingered ; iong after Nancy told him it was time to go. that the children would be becoming impatient for their tea, and be coming to seek her as they had done yesterday. * I cannot teat myfiialf an ay,’ he saiu; but

at last he went, went after kissing Nancy’■ hands, after persuading her to keep the diamond necklace, ‘until to-morrow at least.’

4 Will you really promise to take it back then ?’ asked Nancy, smiling, too. ‘ Will you really promise to come ?’ ‘Yes, really,’ she said, and after a few more words they parted, and Gilmore disappeared behind the green baize door, and Nancy, smiling, rosy, fair, walked slowly down towards the schoolroom, carrying the diamond necklace in her hand, »

CHAPTER XIV. Insulted. Some five or six minutes later, while Nancy stood leaning contemplatively against the schoolroom mantel-pieoe, having rung for the children’s tea, the door of the room was flung violently open, and Lady Gilmore, pale, nay, livid with passion, stalked in, olosely followed by Miss Butler. ‘ Leave the house this moment, you disgraceful creature 1’ cried Lady Gilmore, approaching Nancy in a menacing attitude, her hands olenched, her whole form quiver, ing with the violence of her feelings. ‘You shall not stay here another night, another moment!’

‘ What does this mean, Lady Gilmore ?’ asked Nancy, utterly astonished, and turning suddenly pale. ‘ Mean ! I shall tell you what it means,’ shrieked the infuriated woman ; ‘it means that you are disreputable 1 Utterly unfit ever to have been under this roof—fit for the streets, not for here !’ • Lady Gilmore !’ exclaimed Nancy, starting back with horror. ‘ Oh, you may start and pretend to look innocent, but I know better, A nice governess for my children, truly—a creature who inveigles their brother to meet her in dark passages, and induces him to bring her jewels—don’t deny is ; here is my evidence !’ And as she spoke Lady Gilmore advanced to the mautel-piece, and seized the jewelcase which Gilmore had induced Nancy to keep until the next day, and which Nancy had laid down there when she re-entsred the schoolroom. In a moment it was now in Lady Gilmore’s hands, a moment later she had opened it, and then in her passion disdainfully flung the glittering gaud upon the floor.

Nancy, who had now grown deadly pale, did not stoop to raise it. She stood there facing the angry two who had WAtched her, and were now insulting her, and she looked at them not a little scornfully. ‘ You ate speaking to me and treating me disgracefully, Lady Gilmore,’ she said. * Send for Lord Gilmore, and ask him the truth about our acquaintance.’ ‘ A very likely thing for Lady Gilmore to do,’ sneered Miss Butler, with bitter emphasis. * A just thing at all events,’ retorted Nancy with spirit, who was now roused to defend herself.

‘ No, I shall not send for him !’ said Lady Gilmoie, excitedly. *1 shall send you out of the house at onoe, and not give you the opportunity of again enticing him into folly.’ She furiously rang the bell as she spoke, aud a minute later the schoolroom maid, who had bean on her way there carrying the children’s tea, and thought this second bell (Nancy had rung before) wa3 to hasten her footsteps, entered .the room, and naturally felt some surprise when she saw the excited group there. ‘Tell the butler to come to me here at once,’ said Lady Gilmore, addressing her ; ‘and after you have done so, you go into Miss Loftus’ bedroom and pack her clothes. She is leaving for good immediately, so leave nothing behind.’ ‘ Lady Gilmore I have a right to demand that I should not be treated in such a manner,’ expostulated Nancy. ‘ You shall see who has a right to act in this house,’ retorted Lady Gilmore ; * and out of it you go ?’ * Bui mother what has she done ?’ now inquired Dossy, for the children had been awe-stricken spectators of the whole scene. ‘ Hold your tongue, child,’ sharply answered Lady Gilmore. ‘ At all events let me go to Lady Blenkensop’s for the night ?’ said Nancy. ‘My mother is an invalid, and my going wi hout any notice might make her worse.’ ‘ No, I won’t let you go to Lady Blenkensop's; Lady Blenkensop ought never to have ahowed you to come here, but I suppose you took her in, and pretended to be as innocent as you look,’ said Lady Gilmore, who was still in a towering rage. ‘ I will send you back to town to-night with the butler, and give him orders that he has never to leave you until you are at your mother’s—if yon really have a nlother !’ ‘Which is very doubtful I think,’ scoffed Miss Butler. Nancy looked from one to another, and somet ing of her soldier-father's brave spirit kindled in her dark eves. * You are insulting a defenceless girl most unjustly,’ she said, ‘but I have a good mother, aDd I have a home, and I little thought when f left it for the firit time to came here, that I should ever have been treated as I have been to-day.’ Neither Lady Gilmore uor Miss Butler deigned to make any reply to this. True, Mi s Butler shrugged her shoulders con temptuously, and then turned her back on Nancy, and tho entrance of tho butler now created a diversion. The butler was a man of solemn and substantial port, who had grown rich in the service of the family, and respected them accordingly. He had lived at Wrothsley in the time of the last lord, and knew many things that he never talked about. He had bowel gravely a» he entered, and took in the whole xituation, with his sagacious eyes, at a glance.’ ‘ Graham,’ said Lady Gilmore, addressing him, ‘ I wish you to order a carriage at once to take this young person to the station, and I wish you to go with her to town. My orders are that you see her safely to her mother’s house, wherever it be, and you have not to let her out of your sight until you leave her there.’ Graham respectfully drew out his thirty, guinea gold watch out of his pocket, and contemplatively regarded its face.

‘ There is a train for town paaaes the station at seven- ten, iny lady,’ he said; ‘if the young lady is quick we can oateh that, for it is only five-thirty now, but we should leave here in a quarter of an hoar.’

* That will just shit -you must catch it—do you hear, Miss Loftus ? and yon,’ turning to the schoolroom a aid, ‘go instantly and pack Miss Loftus’ clothes.’ Nanoy made no farther remonstrances, she walked out of the schoolroom with her pretty head raided high, aud a strong sense of indignation in her heart. And she looked so handsome as she did this, that Lady Gilmore glanced after her with an undefined feeling of fear. Would Gilmore really give her np? She might send her away from Wrothsley without his knowledge, but she might write, and he might follow her. Bufc surely he would not be so mad. Yet even as this thought passed through her mind, her eyes fell on the glittering diamonds lying on the hearthrug, and she was too good a judge of precious stones not to know their value. She muttered something, stooped down and picked up the necklace and restored it to its case. ‘ Did she steal it, mother ?’ asked curions Miss Dossy. Lady Gilmore made no reply to this question. She remained in the schoolroom silent, gloomy, until she saw poor Nancy’s luggage carried past by one of the footmen and the schoolroom maid ; but Miss Butler poured herself out some tea and drank it greedily. ‘ We have had no tea, Miss Butler,’ said Dossy, addressing her ; and as Miss Butler was helping bef, Dossy again halfwhispered, ‘ Did she really steal the diamonds, Miss Butler ?’ ' Do not ask any questions, Dossy, she is a very disgraceful young person,’ answered Miss Butler. ‘ But I am sorry, she was always so kind,’ said the little girl. And presently, when Nanoy herself dressed in her hat and cloak walked past the open schoolroom door, followed by the butler also attired for travelling, Dossy and Flossy both half rose as though to bid her good-bye. ‘ No, stay where you are,’ said their mother, ‘you have not to speak to her,’ and so without a word of farewell, Nancy was sent away. Lady Gilmore spoke to the butler for a moment, and gave him some money, and the butlsr then led the way to one of the back entrances of the castle, where a carriage stood waiting for Nancy, and having respectfully handed her into this, and seen her luggage sent on a light cart, the butler 1 mounted on the box beside the coachman, I and Nancy was once more alone. Alone with her bitter, bitter thoughts, the poor girl was indeed broken down, and leaned back against the carriage sobbing aloud, I over this ignominious ending to her sojourn i at Wrothsley. And the self-consciousness, too, that she was not quite blameless, that ’ she had been foolish, perhaps imprudent, - rankled in her heart. » * Oh, what will mother say, what will > mother say !’ she moaned half-aloud ; and then suddenly remembered, with burning ■ cheeks, that Aunt Fannie was also still with i Mrs Loftus, and Nancy knew that she had 9 no mercy to expect from Mrs Barclay’s 1 roughed edged tongue.

Her faoe was pale, and her eyes red and swollen when she reached the station, and produced her meagre little purse. But Graham, the butler, observing this action, though pretending not to see the tear stains, advanced in his respectful way.

‘ My lady,’ he said, ‘ ordered me to pay all the expenses of the journey ;’ and he at ones took a first-class ticket for Nancy, and a second-class ticket'for himself ; and during the journey, at each station, went to Nancy’s carriage to inquire if she would take tea or any other refreshment. At one of the stations Nanoy did drink a cup of tei, for she felt faint, worn, and cold, and it was ten o’clock before they arrived at Paddington, with the prospect of a long drive also, ere they reached Nancy’s little suburban home.

It was a very dreary drive this 1 Nancy’s heart sank lower and lower as they went on, for she would be foroea to give some explanation at once, for her unlooked for return, and the true one was so painful, so degrading v ancy felt. But at list they reached the (in summer) pretty street in West Hampstead, in whion Mrs Loftus lived. The cab stopped, and Graham came to the door to inquire the number of the house, and Nancy gave it with a faltering tongue. Again the cab stopped—she was at home —returned poorer than when she went away ; and the two ladies in the house—Mrs Loftus and Mrs Barclay—hearing the ri> •«* at the street do-r, at this—for them—-li e hour, listened anxiously, while the new onemaid of the establishment (with the exc»ntion of the dusky-skinned ayah) re lied t > the sammous. There was a little parley, for the maid \y a a new one, und then Mrs Lofi.ua, rir u > hastily, heard her daughter’s voice in ibe passage. ‘lt’s Nancy,’ she cried, and the mxt moment she was clasping the poor, weary, trembling girl to.,her breast, and covering the tear-stained face with kisses. ‘My darling ! V\ hat is the matter ? Why did you not let ns know you were coming ?’ she a*ked, anxiously ; and thou her eyes fell on Graham, who w«s assisting the cabman to curry in the 'nggage. The butler, seeing ha had attraote.l the attention of the sad-faced woman in the widow’s cap. at onoe went forward. * Pardon mey madam,’ he said, • for intruding at this hour, but lady Gilmore desired me to see the young lady safely home, and I have done so I p esume I am addressing MrsL'ftus?’ • Yes, 1 am Mrs Loftn?—but why— ’ ‘ The young lady will explain,’ answered Graham ; ’ I think, miss, all your luggage is right now?’ ‘ Oh yes, thank you, but 1 must pay the oab.’ said Nancy, raising her head from her mother’s breast. ‘That is all .settled,’ replied Graham, respectfully ; ‘ and now I will bid you good evening, miss, and I hope you are net very much fatigued ufeer your journey ?’ Nancy then tried to thrust one of her last half-sovereigns into Graham’s hand, but tbit

dignified man deoiined to receive any gratuity. He bowed gracefully to the mother and daughter, and then closed the street door behind him and as the cab drove away, Nacoy’s head once more sank down on her mother’s shoulder. *My dearest Nancy, how pleased I am to eee you again,' said Mrs Lnftus, fondly drawing her closer. ‘Oh ! but mother you don’t know—such a dreadfully disagreeable thing has happened,’ half, whispered Nancy. ‘Never mind, darling, when it has sent you to me— tell your mother what it is, dear V But Nancy found this beyond her strength at the present moment, for Mrs Barclay, unable any longer to suppress her ouriosity, though she was terribly afraid of draughts, now advanced into the passage, holding her handkerchief to her mouth, and looking at Nancy inquiringly and suspiciously. * Well, Nancy, this is a surprise ?’ she said from behind her handkerchief. ‘Yes, Aunt Fannie,’ answered poor Nancy in a subdued tone. ‘Come into the sitting-room, my dear,’ said gentle Mra Loftus; and when Aunt Fannie had followed the mother and daughter there, after carefully closing the door behind her, she once more regarded Nancy suspiciously. ‘I hope, Nancy, 5 she asked, ‘that this does not mean that you have had tome disagreement with Lady Gilmore ?' Nancy was silent for a moment, and Aunt Fanny immediately was satisfied that her surmise was correct. * However did you allow such a thing to happen ?’ she said. ‘ I warned you, you know, to be very submissive to her ladyship. Dear me, dear me ! and to go and lose such an excellent situation almost at ( once !’ ‘ Nancy will tell us all about it presently,’ said Mrs Loftus ; after she has pot her hat and cloak off, and is rested a little. Let us go upstairs to my room now, Nancy dear, and when we come down you will tell Aunt Fanny how it has all happened ?’ Nancy was only too glad to avail herself of this suggestion, and followed Mrs Loftus to her bedroom with a heavy heart. Then, when she got there, she onoe more nestled to her mother’s breast. ‘Oh 1 mother, I have got into such trouble,’ she said in a broken voice. And presently, by a dint of gentle inquiries and fond words, Mrs Loftus heard the whole story, and even her face grew very grave as she listened to Nancy’s faltering explanation of her unlocked for return. ‘ But my dear, did you really go and meet this young lord secretly ?’ she asked anxiously. Nancy was obliged to confess that this was so, ‘ only once or twice, you know,’ she added, with her dark soft eyes cast down, and as her mother looked at her she could not suppress a heavy sigh. ‘She is too young and too handsome to go into the world alone,’ she was thinking, ‘ poor, poor, fatherless child !’ ‘ But Lady Gilmore need not have been so rude, so insulting,’ said Nancy, plucking up some spirit. ‘ There was no such great harm in talking to him for halfan-hour sometimes, but I know who made all the mischief—a Miss Butler, who is staying there, and who wants to marry Lord Gilmore, only he doesn’t care for her at all.’ Again Mrs Loftus sighed softly, and then went to see after her young daughter’s refreshment. Aunt Fanny, whose appetite was capricious, though good, had had a toothsome fowl cooked for her own early dinner during the day, and the remainder of this fowl she soon beheld to her annoyance, and scarcely concealed vexation, now brought up on a tray to assist at her niece’s supper. Aunt Fanny had reckoned on it stewed with oysters for the next day, and to see Nanoy eating a portion of it, after being returned upon their hands in such an extraordinary, nay, disgraceful manner, was more than this good woman’s temper could bear.

She therefore retired to bed in a dudgeon, after various muttered prognostications of speedy ruin overtaking them all, and thus not a little added to Nancy’s discomfiture. Nevertheless she slept soundly, and dreamed that she was standing again with Gilmore, in the dimly-lighted corridor, at Wrothsley, with the old armour frowning down from the walls, in grim contrast to the dalliance of youth and love. (To be continued.)