in hers, whispered something in his ear, which brought a ray of intelligence into his face.

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Yes, you are right; I will try," he faltered.

"You and I have known one another a long time, Lai," he said, "and I am sure you would not do

an injury to an old neighbour and friend. This is a bad business, and I swear to you I

am not to blame. His foot slipped and he fell down. It will do you

no good to tell any one about it; and if you will keep the secret, I will willingly pay you handsomely. Oh, promise me that you will," said the wretched man, throwing himself at Lai's feet.

Here was a pretty position for a graduate and an expectant mandarin! On his

"Here was a pretty position for a graduate knees at the feet of

and an expectant mandarin!"

a common fellow, who did not know one

character from another, and who knew as much about Confucius as he did about the Book of Changes!

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Well, Mr Ts'êng," said Lai, "I don't want to do anything to injure you, but the man died in my

boat; so that unless I can explain his death, I shall be charged with the murder."

"Where is he?" gasped poor Ts'êng.

"In my boat," said Lai. "I have anchored it in a quiet place up the river, so that no one should go on board."

"Oh, if you will only keep the matter a secret,' said Ts'êng, rising as his hopes rose, "I will give you any sum you ask.”

'But what am I to do with the body?" hesitated Lai.

"You can bury it in my graveyard, which is, as you know, on the bank of the lake. The night is very dark, and the wall round the yard is high, so that no one will see you."

"But I cannot do it by myself."

"No; but I will send two of my servants with you. If you will only do this for me, I will be your slave for the rest of my life."

Well," said Lai, after a few moments' apparent consideration, "if you will give me money enough to set up a fish-shop, I don't mind doing this job to oblige you."

"Gladly I will," said Ts'êng; "and now I will call the servants." So having summoned Tan and Le, he repeated to them the story told by Lai. With many appeals to their good feeling and sense of gratitude, he begged them to do him this service, promising that he would give them substantial rewards if they consented. After some hesitation and discussion, the men came to terms, and went off with the ferryman, armed with spades.

The three men stole out like conspirators into the street, and, following devious lanes and unfrequented ways, they reached the boat, snugly moored under the bank of the lake.

"Take care where you go," said Lai, as they stepped on board, "and just sit where you are while I get to the oars." The men, who were beginning to feel nervous and frightened, needed no second bidding; and after half an hour's pull, Lai, who knew the lake as well by night as by day, ran the boat ashore at Ts'êng's family graveyard.

"Now come here and help me with the old man," said he, as soon as he had secured the boat to the bank.

"Why, he is all wet," said Tan, as he helped to lift the body.

"I know," answered Lai; "he fell into the water when he turned giddy, and I had to pull him out.” "You did not say anything about that up at the house," said Tan.

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Well, I tell you now, and that is enough, is it not?" answered Lai, sullenly.

With considerable difficulty the three men groped their way into the graveyard bearing their ghastly burden, and at once set to work to dig a grave. Every now and then the sound of passing footsteps made them pause in their work; and once they were evidently heard, for through the darkness there came the challenge-"Who is that in Mr Ts'êng's graveyard?" But presently the challenger went on, and before long the dead body was safely laid to rest, and the soil beaten flat over it. So soon as the work was

done, the men made their way hastily to the boat, being glad enough to escape from the dark, silent, and ghostly cemetery. On their return they found Ts'êng anxiously awaiting them. Again and again he made them assure him that no one had seen them, and as often he made them swear that they would keep his secret faithfully. That night the two

servants went to bed rich men, while Ts'êng retired to Golden-lilies' apartment to try to lose his consciousness of misery in sleep. But this was beyond his power; occasionally he dosed, but only to dream that the pedlar was standing in the street accusing him aloud of his murder, and then with a violent start and scream he awoke. Poor Golden-lilies fared very little better; and when morning dawned they both arose, weary and unrefreshed, to meet they knew not what, and to face their difficulties with the best. courage they could muster.

The sight even of the two confederate servants was a torture to poor Ts'êng, who knew, or fancied he knew, that they were watching him to see how a murderer would behave himself, and were mentally speculating on what would happen if the secret they held in their possession ever became known. In the same way every incident which occurred bore reference in his imagination to the terrible event of the preceding evening. Even little Primrose's innocent questions of why he looked so pale, and why he would not come out with her into the garden as usual, were more than he could endure; and the child was promptly handed over to her nurse, who had orders to keep her quiet and at a distance. As to his being

able to eat any breakfast, that was quite out of the question; and if there had been any chance of his having an appetite for dinner, it was dissipated by a note he received from a neighbour, who wrote to say, that in passing the Ts'êng cemetery on the preceding night he had heard the sound of pickaxes and shovels, and that to his question of "Who was there?" he had failed to get a reply. The writer excused himself for not having gone into the yard, by pleading the lateness of the hour and the darkness of the night. But he "humbly ventured to recommend that Ts'êng should look into the matter."

grave

With a look of indescribable misery, Ts'êng handed this letter to Golden-lilies, who throughout the morning, partly, possibly, because hers was not the head in danger, had shown a much bolder front to fortune than her lord and master had been able to do, but also, doubtless, because, though of the softer sex, she was made of sterner stuff.

"Sit down and answer the letter at once," she said, "and, while thanking him for his vigilance" (" Curse him for it," muttered Ts'êng), "say that you will send at once to make inquiries."

Ts'êng did as he was bid, and then relapsed into blank misery. Possibly he was under the delusion that remorse for having taken the life of a fellowcreature was the mainspring of his mental agony; but had he analysed his feelings carefully, he would have found that that feeling hardly entered at all into his cogitations. Blank fear it was that oppressed him; fear of being dragged off to prison as