"They are so sweet," said Gertrude, apologetically, "and I have so few flowers. I dare say you in the country have so many that they are scarcely precious at all."

rum philosophicum. He might never | had given her, and positively passing her have left the Elysian fields of philo- lips backwards and forwards over them sophical bachelordom, but for a chance as she arranged them on the breakfastby which he and the curate a new table. arrival in the parish-became intimate; and this chance was the discovery that the curate had in his possession certain rare folios, possibly handed down to him from a bibliomane ancestor. These books he, the Rev. George Chester, was ready enough to lend, confessing, however, that they were unintelligible to himself. The admission fell upon dull ears. The prizes treated upon the transmutation of metals; and Noel talked to the curate as though the latter had been as widely acquainted with analytical and experimental chemistry as he fancied he was himself. Out of these books, then, and a vivid admiration which the somewhat slow intellect of Mr. Chester conceived for the philosophical genius, a friendship sprang up, which resulted in a proposal from the curate that Noel should accompany him on a visit he was about to pay to his aunt and sister in London.

Mr. Rashleigh at first declined; then suddenly some thought of the British Museum crossed his mind, and he withdrew his refusal. George Chester neither knew nor cared for the motive which led to this vacillation of purpose. He was proud of his friend, and glad of an opportunity to introduce him to Gertrude and his aunt. George himself was not brilliant, and for this reason, perhaps, he liked to seek and to be sought by those whom he considered above the average. It soothed his consciousness of personal mediocrity and gratified him.

The result of the visit has been seen. Mr. Rashleigh went but little to the British Museum. The thing was very wonderful, but not less true for that. He was taken captive by this child-like sister of the curate, whose very childishness came to him like fresh flowers to an invalid, or sunlight to a man long blinded. It dazzled him. She sang like the happiest bulbul that ever charmed a moonlight listener; she was full of wilful tricks, which she did with all the grace of monk propriety. How the end came about, Noel could not tell. He only knew that he found her one morning cooing over some flowers that George

Noel was not thinking of the flowers, or the childish action of fondling them. It is to be supposed that the quick, universal impulse had overcome this strong-minded philosopher; for what followed was to him a very vague remembrance. When he came to himself he knew that he had laid all the beauties he could claim or procure of country life at her feet, if she would only accept them.

How he had done it was another thing; awkwardly, of course, but that mattered little: it was done. And then the marvellous novelty of his sensations at finding that Gertrude was actually happy in his confession! It was true that her happiness seemed to be mixed with an awful reverence for him; still that it was happiness he could not doubt; and for the time he flung chemistry to the winds, and was happy too. He was not, however, learned enough in woman's nature to understand the sudden gravity that came over Gertrude and seemed to sober her all at once from the madcap Miss Chester, and called her into the thoughtful woman.

"Aunt Jean will tell you dreadful tales about me," said Gertrude, not without a hesitating fear for the result. " And indeed I am afraid I have deserved all that she will say. But I am not going to be wilful any more; everything is so

"So what?"

"So very different now. I- you know, Mr. Rashleigh, I had nothing to give up being wilful for.”

She said it as if entreating him to be lenient in his judgment of those dreadful things which Aunt Jean would say; and Noel laughed, for Miss Chester and her opinions were of very secondary importance to him just then. He got over his interview with that formidable lady as soon as possible, and emerged from it with an oppressive idea of spectacles that had seemed to be looking through to his backbone, and knitting-needles

after that memorable last visit before the wedding, the day for which had been fixed. As the distance increased between himself and Gertrude the echoes of her voice ceased to haunt him; and by the time he reached his own house his meditations concerning some little alterations he had proposed to himself therein were oddly mixed with a wonder whether a certain pamphlet ordered before he left home had arrived in his absence.

which had bobbed out sharp speeches the railway carriage on his return home at him till he was almost bewildered. Aunt Jean had nevertheless been on the whole tolerably propitious, and Noel was satisfied. It was all very strange and wonderful; wonderful to think that Gertrude cared for him, and that he, Noel Rashleigh, had made so decided a plunge into the unknown sea which, for anything he knew, might be full of ruinous rocks and breakers. He looked at himself in the glass and thought how ugly he was. He rubbed his hands over his forehead, and wished for a moment that he could rub out that deep wrinkle from between the eyebrows, but he couldn't: and then he laughed at himself, and went to take his leave of Gertrude for that time, and to stipulate that he should be allowed to come again soon, and that the wedding should not be long delayed.

This stipulation had to be made to Aunt Jean; and, in obedience to some masonic signal which Noel did not understand, Gertrude left the room as he made it, and he was again alone with Miss Chester. The wedding! As he spoke of it he actually felt the red in his dark cheek, and turned stammering from the keen eyes watching him.

Aunt Jean, however, had something to say which she conceived it her duty to say; and under such circumstances it was not her habit to relent.

"Mr. Rashleigh," said the old lady, "you are going to take away a spoiled child who is very dear to me. You will not be offended if I speak to you plainly?"

"Offended? No, certainly not." "When a man gives himself up to one pursuit, to which he gives up the whole of his time and energy, it is apt to become a second nature grafted upon the first; so that he is unlikely to consider those trifles which make the sum of human things, and go to the fulfilment of domestic happiness. Mr. Rashleigh, Gertrude is very young; in reality, though not in years, she is a mere child. I beseech you to take thought for her." "Madam," replied Noel, looking at her with hazy, uncomprehending eyes, "her happiness shall be my dearest care."

And Miss Chester, reading perfectly the expression of his face, knew that it would be hopeless to say any more.

We left Mr. Rashleigh, however, in

He went to the study or laboratory, the construction of which had excited the village wonder some few years ago, when he finally gave up the farm on which his father had grown wealthy. A packet that met his eye was inimical to the alterations; they could be made at any time; and he was eager to dip into this new treatise on an old subject.

The voice of his future brother-in-law roused him from a long fit of absorption, and he started up only half awakened from his reverie-one of those reveries concerning which Gertrude already knew something-very little yet, and which she afterwards took to call "sublimates," with that rueful sort of jesting which smothers a sigh.

"Oh, I was coming to you, George," said Mr. Rashleigh, bringing himself back with a jerk. "It's to be next week Wednesday- you can come, I suppose?"

"Yes; I shall run up the day before. How did you leave them? "Very well."

"And from London you go where?" "Go!" repeated Mr. Rashleigh, puz zled; "oh, I see. Yes. Upon my word I am not sure that we fixed decidedly. To the north, I think it will be."

"The lakes? Very nice to be you," said the curate, with a half sigh. "I must go. I only looked in upon you in passing."

And Mr. Rashleigh, left alone, fingered the leaves of that treatise a little longer, and then closed it, and went to walk up and down on his lawn, that he might think.

Yes, it would be very nice; George was right about that. Very nice to have a bright little fairy singing about the lonely house, and making it merry with her own light-heartedness. Very nice

Noel Rashleigh spent the next halfhour as a lover should spend it, and then with a sudden practical thought he turned back into the house, and wrote to the county town for the very best piano which could be furnished at a short notice from a provincial warehouse.

when he left his study to find her waiting | from the commoner Hays to be found for him, ready to talk or to be silent; to in the provincial town-indulged in a sit as she had sat for a little while the speculative grimace. Of course Mr. evening before, with her head resting on Rashleigh had a right to be married if his shoulder and her hand in his; or to he liked, and without consulting his walk with him about those fields on neighbors: nevertheless there was some which he had tried his unsuccessful ex- slight feeling of aggrievement astir periments, and which were now let to amongst them. They had a sort of his neighbor, Mr. Frankton. vested interest in him as a bachelor. More than once he had lent the lawn before his house as a croquet-ground; and although Mrs. Haye herself cared nothing about croquet, yet she did like the liberty and license with which on such occasions she went through Noel's rooms, examined his furniture, and, in common with others, made herself perfectly at home in them. It was very useful to have such a house in the parish; and of course, if a mistress came to it, all that would be altered. But as to the second bit of gossip-whisper it gently-how it could possibly have arisen, who first made it up, or heard it, or dreamt it, no one could find out. If it were not for the exertions of Captains Speke and Grant, I might perhaps say, as well try to discover the source of the Nile; but that platitude has been robbed of its point.

CHAPTER III.

WHAT THE PARISH SAID.

"I'LL never believe it. As for the first report of the marriage, Mr. Rashleigh is much too sensible a man to do such a thing; and for the second".

as

The speaker stopped. It was though the very enormity of that second report took her breath away. She, Mrs. Rodington Haye, was calling upon her neighbor, Mrs. Frankton, and the two ladies, having strolled into the garden, were supposed to be admiring the flowers.

"As for the second instalment of the report," proceeded Mrs. Haye, deliberately, "it is simply laughable."

"Like most reports, to be accepted, if accepted at all, with a reservation," responded her companion.

Mrs. Rodington Haye glanced from the scarlet geranium, whose faded blossoms her friend was cutting off, towards the spot where the chimneys of Mr. Rashleigh's house seemed to blend with the church-tower.

"Then the marriage also must be nonsense. A girl of eighteen! Why, it is absolutely ridiculous."

"That I had from Mr. Chester himself," replied Mrs. Frankton, "so of course it is true. And I don't see exactly why it is ridiculous. I am not sure about her age being eighteen; I only know that she is very young."

"You had it from Mr. Chester?" "Yes. The wedding takes place this week, I believe."

Mrs. Haye she was very particular about that finale: it distinguished her

The report was, then, that the new Mrs. Rashleigh intended to take the lead in the parish.

"It has been traced to the Lisles," said Mrs. Haye, somewhat inconsequently as to the foregoing conversation, but apropos of the report; "and Mrs. Lisle cannot tell exactly where she heard it first. Take the lead, indeed! Upon my word, it is too absurd for comment. Young ladies in these days do certainly not know their place. I suppose she is going to reform us all. Take the lead!

Mrs. Haye, being the widow of a professional man, and possessing an independent fortune, arrogated to herself a certain importance in the parish, which was conceded, partly perhaps to a selfassertive power, and partly to a very uncertain temper.

"The marriage itself is, no doubt, an intrigue between the curate and his sister," she proceeded. "Everybody knows how poorly the clergy provide for their children and just think of the seams of Mr. Chester's coats! Of course this is altogether admirable for them both."