GERARD – LISLE’S – ERROR.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIII, Issue VII, 18 August 1894, Page 154

GERARD - LISLE’S - ERROR.

BT

G. M AN VILLE FENN.

CH API ER I.

AN UNPLEASANT DECLARATION.

H I it’s of no use for you to look round, nJjBO )>T y°n can’t get any farther. You’re regularly trapped thia time. Miss d X Lucy, and must hear what I have to say.’ Lucy Hardwick glanced up at the tsKJOTL rich browny-red rock, brightened with overhanging grass and fern, and saw AsMS' j! t * la ' ! * nstea d receding and offering foothold for a climb to the top, it pr<£ jected where it was not absolutely perpendicular. Behind her, the narrow path trailed off to nothingness. On her right was the precipice, going down sheer a hundred feet to where the deep blue sea was playing about the weedy rocks—here in deep dark pools, there in silvery foam that glittered and sparkled in the sunshine. Before her stood Isaac Masters, gentleman, a retired inhabitant of Strawley-on Sea, so people called him—a man, in fact, who by some lucky speculation bad amassed a sufficiency to keep him independently for the rest of his life ; and in consequence he had taken ‘ The Rosery,’ a pretty cottage, nestling in a nook- of the cliff, bought himself a yacht, and, whether sailing or at home, was always looked upon as a real gentleman.

Opinions vary as to what is necessary to make a real gentleman. Odd sixpences and shillings, given for the purEose of being expended in beer, had a great deal to do with lr Isaac Masters being so dubbed, for certainly his appearance had not helped him very much. Doctor Ballard, in allusion to the short, squat figure, long black hair and beard,. and swarthy complexion of his acquaintance, and sometime patient, had been rude enough to say that Mr Isaac Masters seemed to have run away from the London streets, where he ought to have had the care of an organ and petted monkey. But when he said that, Doctor Ballard was cross ; Isaac Masters had metaphorically trodden upon his corns, by saying that the bill sent in was scandalously large, ‘ When I had not charged him a shilling for physic,* said the doctor, • only for my time and trouble. But oh, if I had known !’

That was rather a mystic expression of the doctor’s, and might have borne a good many interpretations. Perhaps Gerard Lisle was right when he said it meant that Doctor Ballard would have given his patient * such a dose !’ Gerard Lisle was a young man who had evidently found the air of hospitals suitable to his constitution, for he had frown tall, strong, and healthy-looking during the days of is studentship, and now that, for the sake of gaining knowledge and experience, he had come down to Strawley as assistant to Doctor Ballard, he had picked up more experience than he had anticipated, for he had found out that Lucy Hardwick, daughter of one of the doctor’s patients, was necessary to him as a companion through life, and that Mr Isaac Masters, the wealthy, was of precisely the same opinion.

Gerard Lisle knew Lucy, had chatted with her often—not half so often as he wished—but for reasons of his own, connected with youth, inexperience, and banking accounts, he had never told his love.

Isaac Masters suffered neither from youth, inexperience, nor troubles in his banking account, so he had told his love more than once, and at the moment when he addressed Lucy Hardwick in the above free and easy way on the edge of the cliff-path, he had fully made up his mind to tell it again.

* Really, Mr Masters, this is very strange and ungentlemanly behaviour,’ said pretty Lucy, turning at bay now ; and the girl’s spirit showed in her bright grey eyes, and the slight Hush on her softly-rounded cheeks. She was no beautiful heroine of romance, but a fair, sweet, English girl, without a thought of coquetry or allure, and at that moment the one idea in her mind was the very unladylike fancy that there was nothing op earth she would like better to do than to give Mr Isaac Masters a good sharp tingling box on the ears.

‘ Ungentlemanly ? Oh no, my dear, not it,’said Isaac; all a fair in love and war ; and if you will keep playing the coy maiden, and doing all you can to lead me on, and tease me all the time, why, you must put up with the consequences. ‘ 1 do not understand you, Mr Masters,’ said Lucy ; and the flush on her cheeks deepened. ‘ Don’t you now ?’ he said, mockingly. • Lor,’ how pretty bUsh ?’° k When y ° U blush * Oh » Ido like to make yon Lucy s face just then expressed horror and indignation, but Isaac Masters had never studied Lavater nor the expression of the human countenance on his own account. One face, he had studied a great deal, and that was his own. He was familiar with every line and turn of feature, from looking at it long and often in the glass. He was also well acquainted w>th the face of Lucy Hardwick ; in fact, he had often tolo himself that it was imprinted upon his heart But he could not read it; he could not tell by its mobile lines the thoughts of the maiden who stood facing him, or he would have remained speechless and allowed her to go at once. “ • Will you allow me to pass, Mr Masters!’ said Lucy, coldly. •" . * N®t likely, my dear, not likely,’ he said with an irritating little laugh. * Here have I been waiting for months and months to have a quiet interview with you, and you have kept me off. I couldn’t say anything before the old gentleman, of course. I say, how is the old man this morning Y • Papa is a little better, Mr Masters, I thank yon. Will you come in and see him Y . * h . a 1 , ha *’ ,BU R hed Masters. •Halha! ha !’ and he shook his head, with his eyes half shut, and gazed mockingly in Lucy s face. • Oh, I say, you are a deep one, you

are. Ha ! ha ! ha ! You’d like me to go back with you at once, and do me out of my chance to speak to you. Oh, Lucy, what a deep little puss you are I’ *Mr Masters, I assure you I am in a hurry to get back,’ said Lucy, hurriedly. • Will you be kind enough to let me pass? This path is dangerous.’ ‘ Not to you. Oh no, my dear, you needn’t tell me that. Why, you skip about like a goat, and your head’s as clear as your feet are sure. Besides, lam here, and will take care of yon.’ Lucy cast a despairing look down below, and then beyond her tormentor.

• Why, what nonsense it is,’ he said, laughing. ‘ What is the good of keeping up this coyness? We’ve known one another long enough now to pitch all that over; and you know, you artful puss, that you came up here this morning on purpose, because you knew I should follow you.’ ‘ Mr Masters !’

/ Oh, yes, it’s all right,’ he said, in what was meant to be a winning manner ; * but I say, Lucy, when is it to be Mrs Masters ?

* I do not understand you, sir,’ cried the girl, indignantly. . ‘Oh no, of course not. You can’t understand that. It 18n a * ba 1 ba 1 wkft t funny things girls are.’ ‘Mr Masters,’ said Lucy, making an effort to be cool and collected, and to speak in a way that should teach her hi® WOf ds were offensive, • I should be greatly obliged if you would allow me to pass. Papa must be anxiously expecting me home.’ * Let him expect then, my dear ; and when you go you shall have some news for him. Come, Lucy, let’s have no more nonsense now.’

* Mr Masters, this is becoming insulting,’ she replied. * Sir, you have no right to speak to me in such a familiar way.’ ‘ Then give me the right, my dear. Come, I say, Lucy, 1m a plain man. I want a wife, and you want a husband.’ ‘ Indeed I don’t,’ cried Lucy, with innocent indignation, but becoming the next moment bitterly angry with herself for her weak words.

*Oh yes, you do, my dear; so have me. You’re very poor, and I m—well no, I’m not rich, but I’m warm, and there s a comfortable home for you, and you shall do just as you like; and oh, I say, my dear, you don’t know how fond I am of you. He spoke in a low, earnest voice now, and as he spoke he took a step towards her, while in her horror Lucy made a step backwards—a dangerous step, that took her close to the edge of the cliff, and warranted Isaac Masters’ catching her by the arm, which he did with a firm grip, and drew her towards him, while an ugly, grim shadow crossed his face.

I say, you know, don’t do that, my dear. You should be careful. I say Iha!ha!ha !’ he continued, with a f° r ced laugh. * I can’t afford to lose my little wife.’ *Mr Masters, said Lucy, firmly, as she extricated her ar ?L,* roax “ 18 S ras P> ‘ let uh understand each other at once.' To be sure ! he cried ; ‘to be sure I The sooner the better, say I, my dear !’ * I cannot charge myself with ever having ’ * Oh, come ! Drop fine language now.’ said Masters eagerly ; ‘one word will tell me all I want to know, my dear. I love you, Miss Lucy, oh, so very, very much, and I want you to be my wife. One word will do it all, without a lot of fine-young-lady speech. All you’ve got to say, my dear, is—yes. One word will do it—; yes * One word will express all I meant to say, Mr Masters,’ said Lucy, firmly ; ‘ and so that we may fully understand

each other, I am going to say that word.* * Well, say it then,* he responded, with his face changing slightly. 6 “ ‘ I will,’ said Lucy. •I am sorry to hurt your feelings, Mr Masters ; bnt that word is—no.* Lucy shrank back as she saw the eyes of the man she was rejecting fixed npon her, and that the grey shade waa coming once more over his face, as he moistened his lips with his tongue ; bnt she waa on her guard this time, and did not go too near the brink. • I say,’ exclaimed Masters, leisurely, ‘ you don’t mean that, do you t* ‘I. * 8 better that I should be perfectly plain with you, Mr Masters, painful as it is to me to speak like this. Ido mean it, sir ; and I beg that you will never speak to me in such a strain again.’ ‘ You do mean it !* he cried, flashing into sudden rage; ‘ bnt don’t you think I’m going to put up with it. I nr an it; and I’m not going to be baulked. Look here, Lucy Hardwick, is there—is there anyone else!’ ‘How dare you spetk to mr, sir, like this!'cried Lucy. ®ay, is there anyone else!’ cried Masters, hoarsely. No, there ain’t; I know there ain’t. And if there was,’ he said, savagely, as he stamped his foot upon the ground, ‘ I’d crush him before he should so much as touch your hand. And now, look here,* he continued, with a low, savage d° n 'k know me if you think I’m going to be put off like this. When I make ap my mind to a thing, I mean it. I made up my mind to make money, and I made it; I ve made up my mind to marry you, and I’m going to ; so now then.’ ° B He had not intended to let her pass, but in his energetic declaration he had stood aside, and given the girl her opportunity, which she took, slipping by him, and hurrying down from the cliff towards home. CHAPTER 11. MR HARDWICK’S COMPLAINT. ‘ Good morning, Miss Hardwick,’ said a frank, cheery voice, and Lucy Hardwick's face, that had been pale with apprehension and excitement, recovered a little of its peachy bloom, and her eyes brightened somewhat as she turned to the manly-looking young fellow who had stridden rapidly up from the low path to overtake her. ‘ Going home ? That’s lucky. I’m going over to see Mr Hardwick.’

P a P a has not sent for you !’ said Lucy, with apprehen-

‘ Oh, no ; it’s Ballard’s day for giving a look in, but he has been called away to High Cliff, so be said I was to make his call.’

Several things combined to make Lucy Hardwick rejoice at the idea of having Gerard Lisle for a companion home. One of them was a. natural liking, though at another time her maidenly instinct would have made her suppress this. Another was the thought of the protection, Gerard Lisle being so big and manly and strong; while yet another was the one which made her heart throb, as she felt a kind of hope that Mr Isaac Masters might see her walking beside Gerard Lisle ; and though there was nothing between them, and never could be, she assured herself, Mr Masters might think that there was, and give her up, and never persecute her again. Under these circumstances there was a something in Lmy s manner that morning that made the young man’s heart give a big throb as the lady willingly accepted his escort—a thing she had never done before—and walked bv his side. ' Isaac Masters could see Gerard Lisle walking by Lucy Hardwick s side, and the expression of his face was not a pleasant one as he watched them from a distance, following them till he saw them enter Mr Hardwick’s gate, when he said a very ugly thing out aloud, and struck his doubled fist into his hand as he turned away, wishing that he could have heard every word they had said. He might have heard every word, and been but little editied, even though the greater part of the conversation was kept up by Lucy, who questioned her companion, the topic being her father’s health. r ‘ Then you do not think him so very ill ?’ with an implonng look.

* I wish, for your sake. Miss Hardwick, I could speak as you evidently would like me to speak,’ said the young man, gravely; * but I must be perfectly sincere with you.’ • Oh, yes ! pray do,’ said Lucy ; and Gerard Lisle’s Heart gave another big throb, though he smothered his human feelings directly in favour of science—the science that he ioved.

‘lt must be painful to you,* continued the young doctor in a low, sympathetic voice; * but it is better that you should know the worst.*

‘ Yes, oh yes I’ said Lucy, with a sob. ‘ Then let me tell you the worst at once. My dear Miss Hardwick, he can never recover from his complaint.* ‘ Mr Lisle !’ cried Lucy, piteously. * But he may live to eighty with his ailment—even ninety —all the same,’ said the young doctor. • Ah ! there you give me hope,’ said Lucy, with her eyes suffused with tears.

‘lt is a complaint that grows more troublesome as it creeps on ; but in his case it is not likely to kill.’ ‘ Are you sure I— are you saying this merely to comfort me ?’ cried Lucy. • Miss Hardwick, I would not deceive you for the world,’ said Gerard, simply. • I have told you the truth.’ ‘ Yon have made me so happy,’ cried Lucy. * Then I must do all I can to make poor papa’s burden more easy for him — soothe him in his painful moments, and do all I can to make his journey lighter and pleasanter through life. Mr Lisle, I thank you for your words. Now we must talk of something cheerful, and go in smiling. Poor papa’s fits of depression are sometimes so bad. ’

Not one word of love, not the slightest advance, but somehow Gerard Lisle had made a wonderful stride into Lucy Hardwick’s affections during that short walk, and as he held open the gate so that she might pass in, the young man said to himself :

* A good daughter makes the best of wives. If—some day —I could make a good practice, and be in a position to keep her, would she be my wife ?’ • Oh, you have come home ?’ said a sharp voice. ‘ How long you have been. Who’s this ’ Who’s this, I say ?’ ‘lt is Mr Lisle, papa: Mr Ballard’s partner.’ ‘ Partner I—assistant, you mean. Well, sir, what do you want ?'

Gerard Lisle was standing before the speaker, a tall, gaunt man, with a pinched expression of countenance. He had just risen from a chair beside a table covered with books, and stood gazing angrily from beneath his overhanging, grey shaggy eyebrows at his visitor, while with a nervous uneasy motion he passed his hand over his thinlyscattered grey hairs. ‘Yes, Mr Hardwick,’ said Gerard, with a smile, as he scanned at a glance the shabby black of clerical cut, and ill pu.ton white necktie : ‘ assistant—not partner. Mr Ballard has been called away to-day, and he asked me to visit you instead.’

‘ Yes, of course !’ said the old clergyman, with petulant fierceness. ‘lam of no consequence—my health doesn’t matter.’

‘ Oh, papa !’ faltered Lucy, with an apologetic look at their visitor.

‘ Ah, yes 1 my dear, you don’t know,’ said Mr Hardwick, taking and patting her hand tenderly ; ‘ you don’t understand the world yet. It’s spring with you, winter with me—the winter of misery and neglect.’ ‘ I hope not, Mr Hardwick,’ said Gerard, and his pleasant manly tones seemed to have their effect upon the irritable invalid. _ ‘ Winter is. a genial time, sir, full of pleasant associations, to my mind, of cheery warmth, and long snug evenings by the fireside.’ ‘ Ay, to the young,’ said Mr Hardwick. * Now, then, sir, yon may tell Dr. Ballard from me ’ ■ That you gave his young assistant a hearty welcome, Mr Hardwick, and shook hands with him, asked him to sit down, and had a good long chat about your symptoms,’ said Gerard Lisle, holding out his hand. ‘ How dare you 1’ began the invalid ; and Lucy caught him by the sleeve, glancing appealingly at Gerard Lisle the while as he stood there unmoved, with his hand outstretched, and the issue was one of doubt. Gerard Lisle had, however, diagnosed, as he called it, the patient he had come to see ; and he was right in his estimate. The Reverend Robert Hardwick was a gentleman, and as he gazed in the frank young face before him, his own aspect changed. * I beg your pardon, Mr Lisle,’ he said, softly. • Will you sit down ? It was an iusult to you. We old men profess to despise the young, and call them boys. It is envy, my dear sir, envy and jealousy combined. Lucy, my child, I am very irritable this morning. If Mr Lisle could treat me for that, he would make you a happier life.’ ‘ My life could not be a happier one, dear,’ she said, kissing him as she led him tenderly back to his seat. ‘ But you did speak rather harshly of dear Doctor Ballard.’ *So I did, Lucv, so I did,’ said the old clergyman. ‘ Ballard’s a good fellow. Don’t tell him what I said, Mr Lisle. Yes, do ; he’ll know it is only my way. Lucy, my dear, you will leave us now.’

The girl nodded, and left the room, her father watching her with a jealous eye, lest there should seem to be any understanding between his visitor and his child ; but he bit his lip directly after, as if feeling ashamed of his suspicion, and turned to the young medical man. ‘ My complaint makes me very peevish, Mr Lisle, I’m afraid,’he said.

‘No doubt, Mr Hardwick. People do not laugh as a rule while they are in pain, nor look pleasant when their nerves are unstrung, as I see yours are.’ ‘ Mine ? No, no ; nonsense, sir !’ said the invalid, with a flash back into his former fretful manner. • Yon are too young to understand, sir. Asthma—shortness of breath — those are my troubles.’

‘ And mental anxiety besides,’ said Gerard Lisle, quietly. The old man turned upon him as if he had been stung ; and so convulsed was his face, so angry his manner, that Gerard Lisle regretted his plain speaking ; but only for a few moments, as he saw a change come over the old man’s face again, and he turned his wistful eyes upon the young doctor.

* And I despised yon when you came in,’ he said. * I told myself that you would begin with the regular jargon, and would prescribe some drug or another. Mr Lisle, you are right. You have placed your finger on the sore.' They sat in silence for a few moments, each keenly reading the other’s face; and then the young doctor spoke, smiling pleasantly the while. *I am glad I came, Mr Hardwick,’ he said. ‘ Now, may

I prescribe ?’ ‘ Yes —yes, if you will,’ said the old clergyman, slowly. ‘ Firstly, then, my dear sir—never mind what Ballard says—don’t take a drop more medicine.’ ‘ No more medicine ?’

* No, sir, only the pure fresh air upon the cliff. Secondly, try a little cheerful society and change. Those are for the body. For the mind, Mr Hardwick Sir, you are a clergyman ; I will not venture to intrude upon your path. You should be able to minister to a mind diseased ; but if I might say anything ’ * Yes,* said Mr Hardwick, smiling ; ‘ speak out.’ ‘You have in this house what ought to be an antidote for many ills.’ * I don’t understand you, sir,’ said the old clergyman. ‘ I allude to your daughter, sir. Probably I shall never marry. If I did, and had such a daughter ’ ‘ Well,’ said the old man, sharply. * I should thank God for the gift, and think myself a happy man. Now I must go. Mr Hardwick, I have several times met Miss Hardwick at various friends’ houses, but this is my first meeting with you. May I call again ?’ The old man stood gazing in his face for some moments before speaking, his eyes seeming to penetrate the young man’s soul.

‘ Yes,’ he said at last; ‘ I shall be glad to see you again.’ And then, as he stood listening to the departing steps, he repeated Gerard Lisle’s words softly aloud—‘ I should thank God for the gift, and think myself a happy man.’ ‘Ah 1’ he moaned, as he sank back in his chair, ‘ how little we get to know of another’s mental pangs I’ CHAPTER 111. - A VERY GREAT FRIEND. ‘Yes, he’s a peculiarity, Lisle—a great peculiarity; and she is Look here, young fellow, don’t you go falling in love with little Lucy. I mean her for myself when the old woman here dies.’ Gerard Lisle glanced apprehensively from Dr. Ballard, as be sat in the porch of his pretty rose-covered Devon cottage, smoking a huge china-bowled German pipe, to pleasantfaced, plump Mrs Ballard, seated opposite, and knitting away as hard as her pins could go. He expected to hear a sharp expostulation, but there was only a smile and shake of the head at the doctor, who went on smoking and chatting.

• No, my lad, it won’t do. She’s all that a girl should be. Might be a bit prettier, perhaps.’ ‘ If she were she wouldn’t look and be half so sweet, Mr Lisle,’ put in Mrs Ballard. • Now, look here, old lady, be quiet, will you ’ Don’t get setting the young man on to take a fancy to the girl,’ cried Dr. Ballard, sharply. ‘ Good gracious me I it would not do at any price. It’s absurd ! In a horribly healthy place like this, too, where nobody ever dies ; and when the rich people from London come down here they get better without a doctor. Why, G erard Lisle, if you should marry that girl you’d starve.’ • That he wouldn’t,* said Mrs Ballard, stoutly ; and she smiled pleasantly at Gerard, who was by her side ‘ But I tell you he would,’ cried the doctor. • Look here. Lisle, you wait till there’s a nice rich old lady comes down

with a bad leg, or too much liver, or a nice lively asthma, like old Hardwick’s. Attend her until she feels that you are indispensable, and then marry her at once ; but make sure about her money. ’ ‘ Don’t you pay any attention to what he says, Mr Lisle,’ said Mrs Ballard, nodding over her knitting. ‘He has got his joking fit on and does not mean a word he says. Lucy Hardwick is a very nice girl indeed, and a very good daughter.’ ‘ And old Hardwick is a very nice old man indeed, and a good father,’ said Dr. Ballard, chuckling ; • but all the same, I should not care for him to be my father in-law if he meant to come and live with us. But seriously, my lad, it won’t do. You must not tie a log round your leg just at starting in life ; and besides, as you are with me, and I look upon you as a friend as well as assistant ’

‘ And almost as a son,’ put in Mrs Ballard, smiling. ‘ No, I don’t,’ said the doctor, testily. • Don’t be so stupid, Maria.’ ‘ You said yon did, James, last night, when we were going to bed,’ said Mrs Ballard, quietly ‘ All stuff I’ cried the doctor. ‘What are you talking about, Maria? You’ll make the young man believe directly that I mean to leave him my practice.’ ‘There are more unlikely things than that,’ said Mrs Ballard, quietly; and she nodded again pleasantly at their young assistant.

‘ Well, I never did !’ exclaimed the doctor, apostrophising a ring of smoke that floated upward from his pipe. • There, you see what marrying conies to. Lisle. When she gets old enough your wife turns into a lunatic, and loses all command over her tongue.’ ‘ ‘ I don’t mind what he says, Gerard Lisle,’ said Mrs Ballard, smiling. ‘He doesn’t mean it; and I’m quite used to his ways.’

‘I think you ought to resent it, Mrs Ballard,’ said Lisle, merrily. ‘lt is too bad 1’

‘Look here. Lisle ;it won’t do. Lucy Hardwick is very well, but she is no wife for you.’ ' I really cannot recall saying a word that suggested a wish to make her my wife,’ said Lisle, smiling. ‘ No, no, of course you didn’t; and I don’t want you to get thinking about her, my lad.’ ‘ Because yon mean to make her the second Mrs Ballard ?> said Lisle, laughingly. ‘By jingo I no, man. One wife’s quite enough for a fellow to have bad ; and besides, I shall never have a chance. That old lady there’s as tough as wire-rope, and will see me out many a year.’ Mrs Ballard nodded smilingly at Lisle, as much as to say —‘ He will talk over his pipe.’ /I want to put you on your guard, my lad. I’m very friendly with old Hardwick, and I’m very sorry for him; but I think you ought to know that he’s under a cloud.’ • Under a cloud, Mr Ballard ?’ • Yes, my lad, under a cloud. I don’t quite know the rights of it, but he got into some terrible disgrace ; and though be keeps to the clerical garb, he has no more right to preach or teach than you or I.’ • You surprise me,’ said Lisle. • Yes, I suppose so. Poor old boy, he makes no confidences ; but I am sure I am right, and I thought you ought to know.*

*Of coarse, of course,’said Lisle, thoughtfully ; and as he sat gazing straight out to sea, thinking of Lucy Hardwick and her devotion to her father, he was startled back to the present by an ejaculation from the doctor. ‘ Hullo ! What does he want’’

• Pills—blue, I should think,’ said Mrs Ballard, taking up a little lorgnette from the seat beside her, and looking along the path. • Poor man ! how bilions he does seem.’ * Put that down, Maria. Don’t let him think we are noticing him. He’s conceited enough without. * Yes, he’s coming here.’

‘Ah, doctor! how are you’—Mrs Ballard, too? How well you look. I say, Mr Lisle, it’s nice to have a doctor in your own house, and one who don’t charge.'

1 Humph ! never charged you half enough,’ muttered the doctor.

•You are not smoking, Mr Lisle; will you take one of my cigars ? continued the new-comer. • I think you will like them. I always get the best I can—l like having the best. I say, you’ve got nothing to do ; walk np to my place and have a look round. You can spare him, can’t you, doctor ?’ ‘ Oh, yes, I can spare him.’ said Dr. Ballard. ‘ Come along, then, Lisle,’ said the visitor. • I never did see such a fellow for work as you are. You've always got a book in your hand.’ * Not to day, though, Mr Masters,’ said Lisle. ‘ No, not to day. That’s why I ask you to come up with me now. It’s such a treat to see you idle. Come along.’ Lisle hesitated for a moment, for he was not much attracted towards Isaac Masters ; but as so warm an advance had been made, he threw aside his dislike, feeling that it would be bad taste towards one of the doctor’s regular patients to decline, and, rising, expressed his willingness to

go- * I don’t half like that man,’ said Mrs Ballard, as she watched the pair going along the road. ‘ Of course you don’t,’ said the doctor ; ‘ nor wholly like him. You’ve got to like me, and no one else.’ * Do talk sensibly, dear,’ said Mrs Ballard, as she still gazed after the departing couple. • There’s a something about Mr Masters that always makes me feel as if it would be nicer if he were an enemy than a friend.’ ‘ Oh, stuff and nonsense !’ cried the doctor. ‘ You can’t have perfect people in this world. From baby to old age they always have their faults.’

Meanwhile Isaac Masters was talking away in a most friendly manner possible to his companion on the way to his cottage. • Look here, you know, Lisle, you are too much of an in door fellow, and you think you are going to win people over to you by being such a student. Bless your heart, man ! that won’t get over the people here. Go out more, and mix with them. Do a bit of fishing and boating. Look here ; you can have my boat whenever you like. Just give old Lawson a shilling afterwards for cleaning her out when you’ve been fishing, that’s all.’ He spoke as if there was a regular charge for the boat which he was waiving on Lisle’s behalf —at least, it sounded so to him.

‘And look here, you know,’ Masters went on with a smile, ‘ run up and see me pretty often. Have a cigar and a glass and a turn round my garden. It’ll do you good and me too. Then, you know, if ever lam ill—which isn’t likely—you’ll know my constitution so well that you can set me right again.’ ‘ Then I am to look forward to you as a patient, eh ?’ said Lisle, laughing to conceal the distaste with which the man inspired him. ‘To be sure,’ said Masters, ‘to be sure. Old Ballard’s all right enough ; but you young fellows get all sorts of fresh ideas from the London places, and know ever so much more than the old fellows do. Here we are.’

He threw open the gate of the very pretty place where he lived, and laid his hand upon Lisle's shoulder in the most familiar way as the gate swung back. ‘ Here, let’s have a look through the garden first. You’ve never been here before. Snug ciib, isn’t it for a bachelor ? There’s my summer-house and look-out; I’ve a capital glass there, by one of the best makers. You can read the names of the ships miles away. That’s my bit of a greenhouse, where I grow my flowers ; that’s my vinery. But you don’t care about those sort of things. Come in, my lad, come in.’

The sudden friendliness was most apparent, but it seemed to be so genuine that Gerard Lisle could do nothing more than respond in the same strain ; so he stopped and smoked his cigar, chatted about the boat, promised to use it, and then, just as he was going, was almost dragged into an adjoining room, where a pleasant little supper was laid out, and of this he had to partake before he was allowed to goCHAPTER IV. GERARD EISLE GOES FOR A WALK.

Isaac Masters’friendly feeling towards the young doctor seemed to increase as time went on, and much to Lisle’s annoyance. He could not be rude to the man, for Masters was always amiability itself ; but so sure as he had made up his mind to have a quiet chat with Mr Hardwick, so sure was Masters to turn up, and insist upon his accompanying him to some place or another. ‘ I do like you. Lisle,’ he often said ; ‘ you are such a straightforward, honest sort of fellow ; and I often wish I had a brother, and that he was like you.’ Masters even went so fur as to offer money in the form of loans, assuring his companion that he only did it out of kindness, and that to offence must betaken. ‘ I know there used to be times,’ he said, ‘ years ago, when I was often hard pushed for a little cash, and I should have been very glad then if anybody had said I could have ten or twenty pounds when I liked.’ ‘ < th ! it’s very good of you, Masters, and I am very grateful to you.’ *No you’re not, or you'd take it,’ said Masters. ‘ You’re so stuck up and proud, you are. You won’t have it, though I want you to.’ * But hang it, man ! I don’t require the money,’ cried Lisle. * Well, there it is when you do want it, mind," said Masters ; * and I say, as an old friend you know, what a sly dog you are, Gerard !’ * 1 sly—l—what do you mean?’ ‘ Oh, no, no, no ! yon don’t know, of course—not you. I say, did you ever bear of a biid called an ostridge?' * Yes, I have heard of the ostrich,’ said Lisle, stiffly.

* Goes and sticks hie head in the sand, and thinks nobody can see. Ha !ha! ha 1 that’s what you do. Fall in love, stick your bead in the sand, and nobody can’t see me, says yon ’

* Really, I do not understand you.’ said Lisle, reddening. ‘ Not you ! of course not !’ cried Masters, grinning. Then turning very serious all at once, and holding out bis hand : ‘ Well, my lad, I congratulate you. She’s an uncommonly amiable girl, and I wish you joy.’ • I suppose you are alluding to my visits to Mr Hardwick’s cottage ?’ said Lisle, quietly. ‘ Of course I am, my lad, and I wish you joy.’ ‘ Thank you,’ said Lisle. ‘ But look here. Lisle, my boy—now don’t you be offended with me, you know, because I am speaking as a friend you may trust—don’t go too far there without being sure of your ground.’

‘ I do not understand you,’ said Lisle, warmly. • There now, don’t be peppery ; I’m only speaking for your good. I say, make sure of your ground. Are you aware that old Hardwick is under a sort of cloud ?’

‘ I have heard something of the sort,’ said Lisle ; ‘ but how does that affect my attention to the lady ?’ ‘ Not a bit, my boy—not the least in the world,’ cried Masters, eagerly; ‘only I thought you ought to know. Don’t be offended ; I was acting for the best.’ ‘ I wish he would act for the best at the North Pole, or some other place, where I should never set eyes upon him again,’ said Gerard Lisle to himself, as he walked away. ‘ Hang him ! I wish he would not be so fond of me. He sickens me sometimes, and there . ‘Oh ! there’s a piece of luck ; Lucy going for a walk with Mrs Ballard. Surely I may follow now.’ He was not told so in words, but both Mrs Ballard and Lucy said he was welcome with their eyes ; and as they strolled on together, with Mrs Ballard taking an unwonted interest in the wild floweis that grew about the path, and constantly hanging back to gather them, that evening seemed to Gerard Lisle the sweetest he had ever spent. No word of love had passed between him and Lucy ; but time had crept on, his visits to the cottage had been many, and watched for eagerly by both. In faet, they needed no words to tell of their love, but seemed, as Mrs Ballard said, to have been made for each other.

‘ I daresay it’s wrong of me to hang back as I do,’ said the old lady, with a smile full of tender recollections ; ‘ but they are both so young and so good-looking and suited and they look so happy together, that it makes me think of—dear, dear, dear, dear ! —can it be possible ?—four-and-forty years ago. Ah, dear me ! how time does go, to be sure 1’ and involuntarily the old lady went on picking flowers, and humming to herself the old song :—

‘.Gather your roses while you may.’ And then sadly she stopped, and said, with a wistful look at the couple before her, ‘ Yes, and time is still a-flying; but it seems very hard to imagine that sweet innocent girl grown intoastout, grey-headed old lady likeme—that sweet, innocent girl ! —that sweet, innocent girl ! —that sweet, innocent girl.’

She repeated this several times in a thoughtful manner, and then exclaimed :

‘Oh ! I’ll ask her if it’s true. No, I won’t,’ she cried, indignantly, ‘ she wouldn’t be such a cruel, deceitful wretch to everybody, and people ought to be ashamed of themselves for putting such scandalous tales about.’ ‘ Ah !’ she exclaimed soon after, ‘ if I knew who it was, and they came to me, if I wouldn’t give them a good strong dose my name’s not Maria !’ ‘ Well, my dears, getting tired ! I think we must go back now,’ and those whom she addressed started, for Gerard Lisle was under the impression that they had been out ten minutes instead of two hours. CHAPTER V. A SHARP PANG, Gerard Lisle thought of that in his hours of misery as the most delicious evening he had ever spent ; and then he let his head go down upon his hands, and wondered whether it was all a dream.

For there had come a change over his happy life, and he was suffering bitterly in his heart, though openly he seemed only a little pale. ‘ She is not bound to me in any way,’ he said to himself. ‘ I never offered her my love ; she never promised me hers. What right have I to compiain ? But it is bitter—bitter indeed !’

He was sitting with his face buried in his hands ; now he, however, started up, and tried to smile, for there had been a touch upon his shoulder, and on looking up, it was to see Mrs Ballard gazing down on him in a tender motherly way. ‘ You have heard something ?’ she said. He did not answer for a few moments, and then said, softly—‘Yes.’

‘ But I don’t believe it’s true, my boy ; and it’s very cowardly and cruel of you to believe it of her. I should not have expected it of you.’ ‘ Don’t—don’t say that,’ he cried, excitedly. ‘ I have been so loyal—l felt such confidence—there, Ido now,’ he cried. ‘I will not believe but what it is all right. Though I have no claim upon her if she prefers—someone else.’ ‘ But she don’t prefer someone else,’ said Mrs Ballard ; ‘ and it’s all stuff and nonsense ! Tall, dark young man, indeed, coming from Dawcross in a boat ! Such lies ! I suppose you’ll tell me next that you’ve seen him.’ Gerard Lisle gazed wistfully at the speaker. ‘I say,’ she cried, angrily, ‘ you'll tell ma next that you have seen him.’

‘ Yes,' said Gerard, sadly, ‘ I have seen the man of whom they speak.’ ‘ What 1’ cried Mrs Ballard, starting back, ‘ really seen him ?’

‘ Yes,’ said Gerard, quietly, ‘I have seen him.’ •Then I shall go straight up to Lucy Hardwick, and ask her what it all means; and this very evening, too. And now, if there isn’t that tiresome Masters. I wish he wouldn’t come here.’

‘ Ah, Lisle, how goes it?’ cried the visitor. ‘ Ah. Mrs Ballard, glad to see you. Lovely evening, isn’t it ?’ Lisle, old fellow, I want you to come for a walk.’ ‘ No, not to night,’ said Gerard, rather impatiently. ‘ But you must,’ said Masters. • Hang it all, man, get your hat; you've been shutting yourself up too much lately. You look all of a mope.’

Judging it to be the best way of getting rid of bis visitor to go with him a little way, Gerard Lisle reluctantly took his hat, and sauntered along the cliff with Masters, paying no heed to where they were going, and listening to his companion’s remarks, and forgetting them the very next moment.

Somehow the stroll was prolonged till it was quite dark, with the moon, nearly at its full, rising slowly over the water, and sending a long golden patch of light from the horizon to the shore.

* What a delicious night !’ said Masters softly, as if the beauty of the scene had its influence even upon him. ‘ Yes, delightful,* said Lisle, moodily. ‘ Hullo ! What a pity to disturb them !’ whispered Masters just then, as he checked his companion by catching his arm, and holding him fast amid a clnmp of rocks—for they had descended to the shore, every place seeming the same to Lisle ; and as he raised his eyes he stood as if petrified.

For there, in a nook amidst the rocks, opposite to a small boat drawn up on the sands, and plainly seen by the yellow light of the rising moon, stood Lucy Hardwick, with her face upturned and an agonised expression upon her countenance, evidently listening to the words of a tall, dark-mous-tached, youngish man, who had one of her hands in his, whilst his arm clasped her waist.

She was evidently whispering something to him as Lisle and Masters came up, whose effect was to make the man turn from her angrily ; but she ran a few steps, and caught him by the arm. ‘ No, no,’ she cried, ‘ pray don’t go like that ! Oh, Arthur ! you will break my heart.’ An icy chill seemed to run through Gerard Lisle, and he bitterly muttered Lucy’s words to himself, ‘ You will break my heart ’

Then his eyes seemed to be fixed upon the group before him ; and though he tried to tear himself away, he seemed forced to gaze at Lncy clinging to and imploring this man, who, on his part, seemed to be treating her half brutally in his haste to get away ; and then words fell upon Gerard Lisle’s ears that seemed to make them tingle, and their bitterness to sink back into his heart.

‘ Oh, Arthur ! dear Arthur !’ she sobbed, ‘ pray—pray come home with me. Don’t—oh, don’t leave me like this. Pray—pray come.’ ‘No ; not I,’ he said, roughly. ‘ There, there, little fool, let go 1’ he cried, fiercely ; and shaking himself free, be strode off down to the boat, pushed it off, regardless of getting his legs wet, sprang in, and rowed rapidly away, leaving Lucy seated upon the sands, sobbing as if her heart really was about to break. The spell that had been upon Gerard Lisle seemed broken now, and he stood there as if hesitating, then, in the anguish of his spirit, he turned, and ran swiftly away .over the sands, urged by but one desire—that of trying to get free from the misery that haunted him. He was for the time being half mad with rage, jealousy, and disappointment ; but as he tore on, the tremendous muscular exertion seemed to relieve the tension upon his biain, and he stopped short, after running about a mile, with reason beginning to resume its regular calm flow. ‘ Well,’ he said aloud, ‘ what right have I to complain ? She knew and loved him before she saw me, and I have been a weak fool, deluding myself with false hopes. Now I will be a man.’

He turned, and began to walk back steadily. ‘ Bah ! what a weak boy I am !’ he cried, railing against himself. ‘ What an idiot Masters will think me; and the—poor girl!’ He uttered a low groan as he saw again that scene in the soft yellow moonlight, with Lucy struggling with and appealing to this man, and once more anger began to assert itself, and he found himself wondering why he had not seized the fellow by the throat and brought him to his knees, to force him to respond to poor Lucy’s appeal. ‘ I had no right to interfere,’ he said to himself; ‘no right—never shall have a right.’ He walked rapidly on, with his head bent down, and his fists clenched, muttering to himself. ‘lt has been a pleasant dream,’ he said, hoarsely; ‘ a happy dream —one that can never be dreamed again. I was deceived—self-deceived ; for, poor child, after all she was never more than kind to me. In the blindness of my boyishness I made all fit to my own bright fancy, and once more I am awake.’ CHAPTER VI. ERROR WITHIN ERROR. As Lisle turned and dashed off, Isaac Masters stood softly rubbing his hands together, watching him till his tall, wellknit figure seemed to dwindle into the soft night, and pass away.

‘So goes one rival,’ said Masters, with a laugh. ‘ Poor idiot ! and he thought he loved her. Big, strong and young as he is, though, what a poor love is his to mine ! He goes —I stay ; and perhaps now she will change her tone. Ha, ha, ha !’ he laughed, softly ; ‘ those who can wait can generally win. I was insolent and ungentlemanly, was I ? Well, my proud little lady, what will you say to me now with such a secret for the trump card I mean to play ?’ He stood gloating over Lucy’s misery for a few minutes, till he saw her rise and stand with her handkerchief to her eyes ; then as his step came lightly over the sand, she heard it, and started forward, believing that he with whom she had been speaking had returned, but upon seeing who it was, she paused in bewilderment. ‘ Mr Masters—yon here?’ she faltered. ‘Yes, my dear Miss Lucy; Mr Masters—and here. It seemed such a pity for you to be alone, and as you have sent him off in such a hurry, I thought you would be glad to have me to see yon home.’ ‘ You have been watching me,’ she said, sharply. ‘ Watching? Oh, dear, no ; not watching. 1 was having a walk with poor Lisle, and it was not our fault if ladies will choose the public sands for such interviews as that which you have just had.’ ‘ Did—did Mr Lisle see me—here—with him ?’ ‘ To be sure he did,’ said Masters, laughing, ‘ and it had such an effect upon him that he ran away.’ • He has gone?’ said Lucy. ‘ Yes ; miles away by now. But what of that, my dear? I am here to take care of you ; and, Lucy, yon won’t be so cruel to me now, dear, will you, as you were up yonder on the cliff? Ob, I say, though, what a little flirt you are !' Lucy did not seem to hear him, for her thoughts were

running upon the fact of Gerard Lisle having been a witness of her interview ; and she turned and walked away. * Don’t be in such a hurry,’ said Masters ; * it's a lovely night, and no one about. Suppose we take a turn down here under the cliff ’’

Lucy paid no heed to his words, but walked steadily on. • Come, come, come,’ cried Masters, bending towards her, planting himself half across her path ; * you did not behave like this to our friend who has just gone. Let me see, the last three times you met him you threw your arms round his neck and kissed him. Come, Lucy, I won’t be jealous if you’ll be as kind to me.’ She stopped short, and stared at him as if in astonishment.

‘ Mr Masters !’ she exclaimed at last, ‘ do you know what you are saying ?* ‘ Know ’ Why, cf course, I know,’ he said jauntily, as be caught her hand in his. * I know, too, that I have waited and waited, till my turn has come. Lucy, my little darling, I ’ * How dare yon !’ she cried, Hinging him off, and drawing herself up. *ls it not bad enough that you should play the spy upon me 1 1 remember now ;it was you, then, 1 saw last night, and three nights ago, watching me; but I did not think it could be you who would be so base.’ * All things are fair in love, my dear little coquette. Why, I love you three times better for being so brave, that Ido ; but, come, that’s enough. Come, you have been spirited enough ; now, be a sensible little woman, and let’s have a quiet talk.’ As he spoke, be caught both her hands in bis. Frightened as she was, she disdained to cry out, but struggled bravely to get them away, while half angry at her resistance. half-laughing, he held them filmly. * How dare you insult me like this ?’ she cried, passionately. * Insult you, nonsense ! It is no in mlt to kiss the little girl one loves so dearly as I love you ;’ and, loosing her hand, he passed his arm quickly round her waist, and then uttered an oath as a sharp thnd was heard, and he went rolling over the sands two or three yards, and then fell in a heap, half stunned and helpless, so swift and sure had been the punishment he had received. ‘ Oh, Gerard ! you are here,’ sobbed Lucy ; and, clinging to his arm, she tried to speak ; but now that the reason for maintaining her courage was gone, she was a weak woman once more, and sobbed andciied so passionately, that, bitter as were his feelings against her, Lisle could not help compassion creeping in. ‘ You—you shall smart for this,’ cried Masters, who had risen, and who now came up with clenched fists. ‘ You—you great cowardly—’ * Silence, dog !’ roared Gerard, turning to face him ; and before Masters had recovered from his surprise, he was taken by the throat, shaken furiously, and then forced down upon his knees. ‘ Now, beg Miss Hardwick’s pardon.’ * I—l beg pardon !’ panted Masters. * Before I’d beg pardon I’d ’ The rest of his words were inaudible, for Gerard threw him back upon the sand, and planted one foot upon his chest.

‘ Beg her pardon !’ he cried again in a low, deep voice, so full of passionate rage, that Lucy caught him by the arm, and, trembling and sobbing with dread, begged him to let the miserable fellow go. • Take me home, dear Gerard—take me home,’ she whispered ; and she clung to his arm so imploringly, that, without a word, he turned from Masters, and walked silently along the sands, with Lucy still clinging to his arm, sobbing bitterly as she went. Twice over she essayed to speak, but her words failed her ; and Gerard Lisle did not even turn his head, but stalked on silently at her side. ‘ I will not leave her till she is with her father,’ he kept thinking, ‘ and then I will never look her in the face again.’ His intention was to take her to the gate, and leave her, but before they reached the cottage, the tall, gaunt figure of Lucy’s father came in sight, and as he caught sight of the coming pair, the old man quickened bis pace, and stopped short before them.

* She has not been to meet you, has she, Gerard Lisle ?’ cried the old man. Gerard was silent.

• Answer me, sir !’ cried the old man, furiously. Gerard glanced at Lucy, who had laid her hands upon her father’s arm, and bad bentdown over them, and was sobbing so bitterly that, cruel as was his own wound, something like compassion stole into the young men’s breast. • I will not betray her,’ he said to himself, and he turned to go. • Stop!’ cried the old clergyman, furiously. ‘ I hive admitted you to my house as a friend, and trusted you, Gerard Lisle. If you wanted to see Lucy, you could have come on to the house ; but I know —you have not been to meet her. Answer me, sir !’

• You have no right to ask,’ said Gerard, sternly. *No right ’ I have —a father’s right. Speak out.’ • I shall not answer you,’ said Gerard, firmly.’ *No ; you are trying to screen her. I know.’ * Mr Lisle did not come to meet me, dear father,’ sobbed Lucy. ‘ Pray, pray, let us go in.’ •No ; I’ll speak here,’ cried the old man, furiously. ‘He shall know all. I trust him. He is a gentleman, a true gentleman, and ’ ‘Mr Hardwick, I am more pained than I can say. You must excuse me now ; I would rather go.’

* And I say, sir, that you shall stay,* cried the old man. * You shall stay, and judge between me and her.’ •No ; I cannot do that, Mr Hardwick. * Sir, you must excuse me.’

* No. You shall stay,’ cried the old man. * Gerard Lisle,’ said Lucy, softly, ‘ it is right that you should know. I only ask that we may go on home.’ * Do I n< t know enough ’’ cried Gerard, bitterly. * No,’ said Lucy, softly ; and her look was so full of tender reproach, that he regretted what be bad said, though he knew not why. * I have borne it, Gerard Lisle, till I can bear it no longer,’ cried the old man, as they stood there in the broad moonlight on that s >litary cliff path, alone in the soft silence of the summer night. ‘l’ll speak here, ou ’ in the free ai , under the broad heaven ; and may the all-seeing God forgive me if I am too bard.’

Lucy stood with her bands clasped and hanging before her, while her head was bent in humble deprecation of her

father’s wrath ; and as she stood there, with the soft moon light playing upon her hair, she never seemed so beautiful to Gerard Lisle before. * I am not blind, Gerard Lisle,’ panted the old man. * I have seen that you loved her, and I said to myself, I would not wish to see her with a truer-hearted protector to take my place when I am gone. I speak then before you. It has been a secret that I would not tell, but now it is forced from me by what she has done.* * He begged of me so hard, dear, dear father, what could I do! And you, too, do love him in your heart,’ sobbed Lucy. *I do not !’ he cried fiercely ; ‘ I hate him ! I forbade you to see him. I said you should never see him again.’ * But he begged so hard for me to forgive him, dear, and I did,’ sobbed Lucy ; and every word was a fresh pang in Gerard Lisle’s heart.

* Yes, weak foolish girl that you are. A few sham prayers, and I daresay a tear squeezed out, and your arms were round his neck again.’

• Yes,' muttered Gerard, ‘ her arms were round his neck again. ’ ‘ Listen to me,’ cried the old man, ‘and you shall judge between us, Gerard Lisle. Seven years ago I was a happy man. I had had my sorrow—l had lost my dear wife. Thank God !’ he said, fervently, ‘ for she was spared all this. I say I was happy in—as I thought—the love of my son and daughter. Gerard Lisle, for that son’s sake I bore the credit of a cruel fraud. I was deprived of my living — I have lived almost an outcast and a beggar, and yet for his mother s sake I have forgiven him again and again, but only to find out some new villainy. At last I could bear no more. I sought out this place, broken in health, broken in spirit, to try and end my days in peace, and now he has found me out again. He is striving to win her from me.’ • No, no—dear, dear father !’ ‘ I say he is,’ cried the old man, passionately, ‘ and I forbade all further intercourse with him, and you have disobeyed.’ ‘ Gerard, he is my only brother,’ sobbed Lucy, ‘ be came, as I believed, in sorrow and contrition. What could I Oh ! father !’ She sprang to Gerard Lisle’s side ; but too late, for she bad seen him reel suddenly, and before she could help him he fell heavily upon the rocky path. • A mere nothing,’ he said, as he recovered consciousness, and found Lucy kneeling by his side bathing his face with water which she had fetched from the cottage, while Mr Hardwick knelt upon the other side, holding his hand. ‘ A mere nothing, a sudden giddiness,’ and then, unable to contain himself, he caught Lucy’s band and held it to his eyes, as he lay back for a time, and she could feel the anguish of his spirit in the suppressed sobs that shook his frame. ‘ Shall I fetch Dr. Ballard ?’ said Mr Hardwick at last. ‘No, no—no, no,’ said Gerard, struggling up ; ‘I am better now. Let us go in.’ ‘ Yes—yes,’ said the old man, in a broken voice, his own passion evaporated now on witnessing the trouble of the man he had learned to love, though he could not read the cause. ‘ I was very angry, Lisle. However, forgive me for what I said ; but it is sometimes too hard to bear.’ He went on, heedless of those who followed, and as he passed in at the gate, Gerard drew Lucy back and knelt at her feet, holding her hands in his. ‘ I saw you—in his arms—down there,’ he said, hoarsely. • I thought—l thought—oh, my darling, forgive me ! for I love you with all my heart.’ A good half hour bad passed before they entered the cottage, to find that there was no light in the little sittingroom, save that of the moon, which fell upon the bent grey head of the old clergyman, who rose and said simply—- ‘ I have been praying that my heart may be softened towards my boy, and I feel that my prayer is heard. ’ • Father !’ sobbed Lucy, springing to his breast. ‘ Mr Hardwick,’ said Gerard Lisle, in a low voice, ‘ I have been asking Lucy if she will be my wife.’ And the old man said softly—- ‘ Thank God !’

Lucy thought strangely of his altered mien that night, and of his words respecting his forgiveness of his son, for two days afterwards the little boat in which the young man had crossed the bay was found bottom upwards amongst the rocks of the coast, and it was supposed that it had been overset in the very dangerous spot avoided by all who knew the coast. It was a week after his visit to his sister, to try and extort money, before the body of Arthur Hardwick was cast upon the shore, the old man insisting upon reading the burial service himself upon the day that the earth closed over one who had caused so much pain and bitter trial.