you how much I used to admire and respect her— for many things."

"A very qualified and cautious summing up of your sentiments. I think Vaughan must have inoculated you with some of his barrister's prudence -eh, Caroline?"

She looked up; her eyes filled, her lip quivered.

It was evident this was a subject which, for some reason or another, struck more than ordinarily deep into a sensitive part of her nature. Mr Hesketh was content to leave it. He had not much leaning towards the science of investigation, and he thought the entrance of the servant with letters was very timely.

"One from Vaughan," he announced, setting aside the others; "now we shall have the day fixed for his return;" and he read aloud the letter:"Temple, July 30.

"DEAR UNCLE,—I had intended being with you at the end of this week, but my friend George Farquhar (the rising young barrister you have heard of) insists on my staying with him a few days, before proceeding to Redwood. I know you will not ob

ject to the delay, under the circumstances. Moreover, I wish to ask your permission to bring him with me when I come. I should much like you to know him; he is a capital fellow. I write to catch the post; have only time to send love to Caroline.— Your affectionate,

the note.

VAUGHAN HESKETH."

There was a silence while Mr Hesketh refolded Caroline's face was perfectly eloquent of disappointment, as her companion saw with a momentary glance.

"Well, he'll be here in time for the ball, at any rate," said he; "and I shall be glad to see his friend Farquhar. I knew his father, and he himself is well worth knowing. Besides, he will be a welcome addition to our rather scanty stock of cavaliers, won't he, Caroline?"

There was a pause.

"I think his friend is very selfish," she then pronounced, warmly, "to insist on Vaughan staying with him just when he was coming home. He could have chosen some other time. He might be sure Vaughan wants to see us, after being away nearly a year." "My dear child -" began Mr Hesketh, with

a slight smile. But something made him stop, and his smile grew more melancholy than cynical. "You remember," he added, "it is only two days since you said disappointment was right and proper, and did people good."

Another pause, during which Caroline pulled the feathers from her pen, scrap by scrap, and flung them on the air. She was annoyed, grieved, pained, more than she would confess; but the strong, healthy young spirit righted itself very soon.

66

Well," she said presently, half laughing, “I suppose I am being done good to; but it isn't very pleasant; I don't like it, uncle. I am not a stoic after all, I'm afraid."

"Promise never to be either stoic or sophist, and I'll forgive you all your sins against grammar," the old gentleman replied, drawing her towards him, and kissing the frank, sweet face. "I'm afraid poor Miss Kendal, in her devotion to Lindley Murray, must have had a hard time with her rebellious pupil." "Poor Miss Kendal!" echoed Caroline, with a

brief sigh, and then turned to her invitation notes again.

Chapter iii.

MR HESKETH'S remark, that Vaughan "would be at Redwood in time for the ball," proved literally prophetic. The morning of the fifteenth of August dawned, cloudy and threatening rain, and Vaughan and his friend were only expected to arrive in the afternoon. The day proved rainy, one of the most dismal of wet summer days, with a chill and dampness in the air, and the trees looking forlorn and spiritless.

Caroline had plenty to do; she went about the house from early morning, either completing preparations in one room, or admiring them in another, or altering them somewhere else. Besides, as flowers were to form the decorations, there was necessarily much left to be done on the last day. The gardener brought in huge bunches of his most gorgeous dahlias, and other floral magnificence.

Festoons of ivy, with glowing groups of flowers inserted here and there, were arranged on the walls of the dancing-room, and long wreaths of roses and myrtle reached from each corner of the room to the central chandelier. The wax-lights rose, slender and snowy, from luxurious nests of soft, rich colour -geranium, and verbena, and heliotrope, artfully inserted into small dishes of water among the glass facets of the chandeliers. It all looked very pretty, Caroline thought, as she gave the finishing touch to the great wreath of cedar and oak, which she had arranged round Mr Hesketh's picture over the mantelpiece. And with a look of mutual congratulation, she and Mrs Brownlow, the housekeeper, who was serious and solemn with a sense of heavy responsibility, left the room. Then there were the drawing-room bouquets to arrange, books and prints to fetch from the library, the supper table to inspect, the decorations in the hall, executed conjointly by the gardener and Stokes, the tall groom, to duly admire. Finally, she led Mr Hesketh through the rooms, was satisfied with his warm appreciation of all the arrangements, and