it came about that from small beginnings I grew to be overwhelmed with debt. I never got a new dress or ornament without making some virtuous resolve, just as upon the heel of any poor little economy I was sure to commit some fresh extravagance. There was always the hope that Harry's income would increase. It seemed impossible that Government would let us go on starving much longer upon six hundred a year! Again, there was the chance of a legacy any day. When real anxiety stared me in the face, it was staved off with such arguments as these; though for the most part I lived in happy unconcern. A year ago I began to be uneasy because I was asked to pay a milliner by whom I had at first been begged to get into debt. Harry was just then very much worried about his own affairs, and I felt that I would rather part with every one of my beloved jewels than go to any of his family. I racked my brain, and at last could only hit upon my sister Janey as the person likely to help me. She kept house for my father, and though they had only a hundred and fifty pounds a year to live upon, they were so careful that they always had a little to give away to the poor. Janey's answer and five pounds came back by return of post. "Dearest Lucy," she wrote, "I send all I have; but I dare not mention what you have done to our father. It would break his heart."

That letter made me laugh and cry. Kind, simple Janey! What was such a sum as five pounds to poor debt-burdened me? I felt half disposed to send it back, and only refrained because I knew how greatly it would vex my sister. The milliner was appeased by some device for a time, however, and then my worries began afresh. Now it was a jeweller, now a hairdresser, now a lace-cleaner, who showed growing signs of uneasiness. Again and again, I was on the point of going to my husband and confessing all, but could not summon courage. At last he was sent abroad for a few months on official business, and I determined somehow to set things right before he came home. How the time has passed I cannot tell. It seems only yesterday that there remained a long reprieve before me, but now it is gone! Looking back, I feel that if I had strained every nerve I might still have avoided this disgrace. I might have urged upon the jewellers to take back their goods. I might have humbled myself before some of my husband's relations, and borrowed the necessary money of them. It seems to me, as I sit here in despair, that I might have done a hundred things to avert the ruin hanging over me. Oh! father, father! what would you say if you could see your poor little Lucy now? Would you believe her if she told the reason of her tears and self-abasement? As I write this, the remembrance of my wedding

day comes back to me; the pride of it, the joy of it, the hope of it! My father could hardly have felt prouder had he married me to a prince. Harry was so handsome, so clever, so well-born! Compared to ourselves, too, he seemed quite rich, and whenever he took me home on a visit, we were looked upon as grand folks by all the neighbours. Ah, me! how shall I ever bear to go home again?

He

Evening. Whilst I was writing this morning Harry came. had travelled all night in order to get home a few hours sooner, having great news to communicate to me. I listened without a word, and in his elation he did not notice how I trembled. I had never before seen him so gay and so eager.

"Lucy," he cried, "Fortune smiles upon us at last, and if we choose, the days of our poverty and insignificance are over. I have had a Government appointment in India and a thousand a year offered me. Yes or no? Shall we stay here, beggars, or go to a new country, and live in ease all the rest of our lives?"

There was not a trace of the indifference and coldness of manner habitual with him as he said this, and, without waiting for my answer, he went on enthusiastically:

“You, Lucy, will be a little queen out there, and I shall no longer be a mere drudging clerk, a bond slave of routine. I have always been ambitious, as you know, and at last I see a chance of doing something with my life. But what is the matter? you are white as death. Oh! child, what can have happened?"

"I am not ill, Harry; don't be frightened; but I have done something very wrong, and the dread of telling you has made me like this."

He dropped my hand, and turning very pale, scrutinised me for a second, I know not with what dreadful thought in his mind; then we sat down side by side on the sofa, and I told him as best I could. "How much do you owe altogether?" he asked.

"Fifteen hundred pounds," I faltered out.

"Fifteen hundred pounds! Income of two years and a half! Oh, Lucy!"

That was all he said, but his manner of saying it I shall never forget. Then he left me, saying that he must have a quarter of an hour to himself to think of what could be done; and at the end of that time he came back to me.

"Lucy," he said, quite calmly, and almost without looking at me, "to accept that post is now impossible. I cannot begin a new life

with a clog of debt round my neck; and moreover, it would be dishonourable. The best thing we can do is to give up housekeeping for the present. You can stay with your father; I will ask to be sent abroad again for a few months; and by this means we may set things straight in time. Take what books and clothes you like with you to the vicarage, because all the other things will, of course, be sold.” I stood aghast.

66 Have you anything better to suggest?" he asked in the same calm voice.

"Oh! Harry, must we be separated after this long absence? Must you give up that appointment?" I asked with suppressed tears.

"I am sure it is better that we should be separated," he answered; "and as to the appointment, I would rather lose the viceroyalty of India than go about borrowing money to pay my wife's debts with. No, Lucy, we have a little pride left us yet.”

With that he turned to go, looking back on the threshold to add : "You had better apprise your father of your arrival by telegraph, and go to-night."

"Won't to-morrow do?" I said. "My father will think something terrible has happened by such a sudden appearance."

"And has nothing terrible happened? Such as the truth is, we must look it in the face. We are ruined, Lucy."

He took out his watch.

"It is now quite early, only mid-day. You can surely pack your clothes by six o'clock, when I will be back, if possible, to take you to the station. I must go out at once."

He went away, and in less than two hours I got the following letter:

"DEAR LUCY, It is impossible for me to be home soon enough to see you off. Your maid will do it very well. I enclose twenty pounds, and will send you as much more in two months' time: but please make it last as long as that. I have telegraphed to your sister. God bless you. "HARRY."

I read over those three kind words—" God bless you!” again and again, trying to console myself with them for the severity of the rest. Was my punishment greater than I deserved? No; how could that be, after deceiving him as I had done? I felt rather that if he went for a year without forgiving me I should still have no right to complain; but I longed to say that, to have his assurance that by-and-by all would be with us as of old. I could not bear the thought that another long parting was before us; and, as yet, I had said nothing about my shame and sorrow.

I had to leave off writing to get ready for my journey, and now I am home again. What Harry had said in his telegram I did not know, but I saw from Janey's face, when she met me at the station, that she guessed something was wrong. She said very little as we walked home in the summer twilight-wild roses shedding perfume— nightingales singing the evening star shining-everything peaceful but my heart. Janey whispered, as we reached the little garden gate, “Lucy, darling, let us say as little as we can to frighten father. He is much feebler than when you were here last."

"Did Harry tell you-all ?" I asked.

"Hush, there is father," she said, and the next moment I was in my father's arms, and he was crying partly from joy to see me again and partly from some vague suspicion that I had come because I was in trouble. We sat down to supper, as usual, in the homely little parlour, all three trying to be cheerful. After prayers-which Janey read now because of our father's failing voice-he blessed us both, and said to me :—

"Trust in God, Lolo "-my pet home-name-" and do your duty to your husband, then all will come right in time."

"Father suspects that you and Harry have quarrelled," Janey said, when we were alone in the little old-fashioned bed room we had occupied as children. "Oh! Lolo, is that so?"

Harry, then, had not told her. For a moment I hesitated—but for a moment only. I could not deceive my sister Janey, who had loved me from childhood with a perfect love; and with cheek laid to cheek, and arms entwined, we sat together and I confessed all. Janey, instead of reproaching, tried to comfort and strengthen me by holding out a hope of atonement and reconciliation. She said she was sure that Harry would soon forgive if he saw me determined to amend, and she blamed me, though in the tenderest manner, for not having prepared him by a letter, instead of permitting him to come home buoyed up with hope and expectation. "No man," she said, "could help feeling it hard that the very good fortune he had longed for, when put within hand's reach, should be dashed aside, perhaps for ever, by his own wife-especially a wife who owes all to her husband, as you do." Janey went on in the same tone of quiet reproach. "Think how penniless you went to Harry, and how generous he was. Why, even your wedding gown was his gift, and in everything he behaved as liberally as a man could do. But you can help him to get clear of difficulties. Send back that twenty pounds to begin with; we are rich enough to entertain our Lolo, and perhaps you and I may even devise some plan of earning a little."

With these last comforting words she left me, and after having written for an hour I feel as if I could go to sleep. When I am happy again I shall not want to keep a diary, but during Harry's absence I feel it like a friend in sympathy with me. I dared not speak of my troubles to any one. If things never do come right between us two I will keep what I have written, and Harry will read it when I am dead and forgive me.

so on.

June 28th.

How dreary and unfamiliar seems the old home life to me now! What happens one day happens the next, and no more important event ever takes place than an invitation to the neighbouring rectory or a village funeral. I wonder at Janey's cheerfulness as she gets up every morning to the same dull round of duties-helping in the Sunday school, reading to the old women, attending to her garden, and She never seems to think that there is another world outside this a world of bouquets and music, balls and operas; and looks distressed whenever I recall it. "Try to make yourself happy with simple pleasures," she says to me again and again, "and in helping others. There is the secret of a really contented mind." What simple pleasures can I make myself happy with? And what can I do to help others-I mean Harry? Janey has racked her brain to discover some method of earning money, and the only one we have hit upon will bring in just twenty-five pounds a year—that is, by having the little girls of some neighbours here every day to teach. At first Janey would not hear of my helping her; Harry would be vexed, she said; but I insisted upon teaching music, for which Harry had given me masters in London; and now we teach three dull children every morning for the sake of ten shillings a week! The only thing I can smile at is the contrast between our ambition and our achievement. I dare not let poor

Janey see this, for she is always hopeful.

I wish I could be happy, but I never wake in the morning without longing that the day was already at an end. We have prayers at eight o'clock, then breakfast, teach and do parish work till dinner-time, after which we sit in the summer-house with our books and needlework. On Sundays we put on our best clothes and go twice to church. This is our ordinary life, and in spite of father's kindness and Janey's devotion, I weary of it-I almost hate it.

And all this time Harry does not write!

To-night Janey came into our room pale and trembling. I was sitting on the bed in the twilight-we go to bed so early that we