with that dear, good, strict Philip. She kissed and caressed Lady Dunsmore, made promises and entreaties, and as usual won the battle and abused her victory. She excused herself from accompanying Lady Dunsmore on a shopping expedition the next day, and while she was absent received his Grace of Durham. During this visit they must have made all arrangements for their flight. Constance met Lady Dunsmore quite unconcernedly on her return, was cool and collected all day, packed her trunks, and started for her evening's amusement, radiant with beauty and good-humour. Soon after she was gone a man called for Miss Le Geyt's luggage, and a well-bribed housemaid gave it to him. "It would have been so awkward," said Constance afterwards to Lady Dunsmore, " to have appeared next morning in full dress; the Duke would have found it uncomfortable. It is one's duty on such occasions to think of these trifles." She had had the same foresight when she left Excombe. A very collected young person was Miss Le Geyt.

CHAPTER XV.

AT HATHERLEIGH.

"Where I will heal me of my grievous wound."-TENNYSON. It was impossible for Philip to return to his former life after his great disappointment. London grew hateful to him; the noise, the crowds, the whirl, of the great city seemed to distract him; he longed for peace and quietness. Nothing prevented his setting off at once, but the knowledge that he ought not to live alone and a desire that we should not separate. I offered to give up my appointment at Somerset House, and to accompany him to Hatherleigh; but he said that the sacrifice was too great. Finding, however, that he grew thin and haggard, and suffered both in mind and body from being in London, I sent in my resignation, and only told Philip of my intention when it was accepted.

After all, the sacrifice was not a very great one. I was tired of the routine of an office, and, like Charles Lamb, longed to be quit of it; but, unlike him, I never wished myself back again. I was engaged upon a work which required more time than I could possibly give to it while going every day to the office, and Hatherleigh offered a prospect of unbroken leisure. Our life there was, if a quiet, yet a very busy one. Philip and Lord Lynmouth plunged deeply into drainage and building schemes, for which Lord Lynmouth had previously had neither time nor capital. Now, however, the mines, newly discovered on his property, gave him an increase of means which enabled him to make great improvements. He grew quite generous in his undertakings, and Philip, as the next heir, must be consulted in every

detail.

So scarcely a morning passed without our seeing Lord Lynmouth, on his tall old chestnut, ride up to the door. When Philip rode for pleasure he used the horse which he had bought formerly in London, but this one was too impatient to endure the continual stopping which a morning's work on the land required; so Philip appropriated an old grey horse of his uncle's. Many a time when returning from fishing I have met him pacing through the village on that fine old grey. The women would come to their doors to bid him good day as he passed by; the men touched their hats to him, a sign of great respect in the North Country; and every child knew him. Once or twice I met him with a child of the under-gardener's at Leigh, a pretty, curly-haired boy, mounted on the saddle before him. I said to him once, "How fond you are of that child, Phil;" and he answered me, "Yes.. Do you know, Ned, I often think that if I had had a child and Constance had been its mother, I should have made an idol of it as I did of her."

He often spoke of Constance, and never with bitterness; always saying that he had not made sufficient allowance for her extreme youth, nor would he ever allow me to say one word in her disparagement.

Often late in the afternoon, Lord Lynmouth would ride down again about some affair which had been forgotten in the morning, and about which he wished to consult Philip. When they had arranged this he would say:

say.

"Do come up and dine with me, both of you."

"Would it not be better if you stayed here with us?" Philip would "You are here now, and it is nearly dinner-time."

"Well, I think I will; you two are so much more comfortable here than I am, alone at Leigh. This place is a home, that is a wilderness, now that they are all dead or gone away."

After dinner, when the weather was fine, we smoked on the terrace in the evening; it lies east and west, and towards the west an opening had been cut in the Scotch firs, in order to obtain a sunset view; and a very beautiful view it is. At this end stands an iron seat. I do not suppose that two days together ever passed away, when Lord Lynmouth was at Leigh, without our seeing him. He was very anxious that Philip should marry; once he urged him to do so in my hearing. "You must marry, Philip," he said, " and forget the past.' "When I forget it I will marry," was the answer.

In the spring of the next year Lady Dunsmore wrote to Philip, and told him that Constance had a son. He gave me the letter to read, saying,

"I should like to know if she is happy."

I made no reply.

"Ned," he continued, "I was wrong when I told her husband that

I never wished to see Constance again. I wish to see her now. I hunger for a sight of her face-the face of the child we saw in the cottage on Dartmoor, the face of the girl who stood beside me under the beeches at Excombe."

The new mines on Lord Lynmouth's property were situated at the farthest extremity of the estate, nearly two miles distant from the village and the church. A few rough huts had been built when they were first worked; to make better homes for the workmen Lord Lynmouth had built several cottages on a fine healthy hillside, distant about a quarter of a mile from the mines, and now he proposed to build a church, in a little valley which lies under the hill; the place is called Stonybridge.

Philip first suggested that a church should be built and endowed from the profits of the mines, and Lord Lynmouth, having no expensive family to provide for now, and no very great household to maintain, decided that he could afford to do so.

"Ned, I want to talk to you," said Philip, one day, after he had been to Stonybridge. "Can you attend to me for a while?" "Yes, what is it?"

"You know that Lord Lynmouth is going to build a church at Stonybridge?"

"Yes."

"He finds that after endowing it he can only afford to spend £5,000 on the church; now this will not build a fine church, only a small, indifferent one; but if I were to add £3,000 to his £5,000, we might build a church like those in Devonshire-a three-aisled church, with a tower, such as I like to see."

"Well, Philip, I agree with you, it would be better; and if you have the money why do you demur about it?"

"Because it is your affair, and not mine."

"My affair?"

Yes, all that I have will be yours, and before long. Are you willing that the money should be expended in this manner?" "I am quite willing."

And so it was determined that the church should be built.

In the May of that year, just twelve months after his great disappointment, I had to go to London on business, and at the eleventh hour Philip said he would go with me, as he wanted to see Lady Dunsmore, and to inquire about many things connected with the church at Stonybridge. We went to Lady Agnes Comyn's, where Lord Lynmouth was staying, and where, to my satisfaction, we found that Miss Vyvyan was a guest. The first visit which Philip and I paid was to Lady Dunsmore. She was glad to see both of us, but more particularly Philip; but was troubled that he looked no better than when she saw him last.

"I am here again," she said, with a melancholy smile. "I thought when I left last year that I would never come up again, but I could not help myself; Excombe is a lonely place for an old woman."

"You should not live alone," said Philip.

"What can I do?" she answered. "I have tried no less than three companions this winter; I do not know whether I led them a worse life than they led me, but the results were uniformly unpleasant. The only person whose constant companionship does not weary me now is She checked herself and coloured.

"You mean Constance," said Philip quietly. "How is she?" "Well-very well," said Lady Dunsmore; then, as if wishing to avoid the subject, "I hope you are both going to dine with me?"

Philip accepted the invitation, but I could not, being engaged to accompany Lady Agnes Comyn and Miss Vyvyan to the Opera ; besides, I thought that perhaps Lady Dunsmore wished to have Philip to herself for that evening.

One day Philip went away by himself, and did not return until late, without saying to any one where he was going. I went alone to see Lady Dunsmore, being desirous to ask her some questions about Constance in her new character. The old lady was very kind. She asked me where Philip was.

"He has gone away for the day."
"Do you know where he has gone?"
"He did not say, but I can guess."
"Where then do you think that he is?"
"At Stoford."

"I dare say that you are right," said Lady Dunsmore; "he asked me many questions about Constance. I believe-yes, I really believe— that he has forgiven her."

"I think he has. I want to ask about her also. May I, Lady Dunsmore?"

"Whatever I can tell you about her I will, but I can only speak of her acts; her thoughts she never makes known to me, nor to any one else I believe."

"How does she succeed in society?"

"Very well; she can visit in every house in London if she please; indeed, she was quite the rage in the latter part of last season. There is not another duchess so young and so lovely, and, thanks to Philip's generous forbearance, no one knows of her conduct towards him. That affair with Alton was a little against her, but after all, what happens in Devonshire matters little in London. "

"Does she sing as beautifully as ever?" I asked.

"Yes, but very seldom; the Duke makes a great fuss about her voice, and she only sings on very rare occasions—that is, in public." "And does she mimic people now as she used to do?"

"No; I have cured her of that," said Lady Dunsmore.

"I should like to know how."

"I told her that it was a vulgar habit, and the only thing about her which made me doubt if she were a lady by birth."

"Did you tell her that?"

"Yes; there is always plain speaking between Constance and me. I own that I am foolish about her. I like her, although she has so many faults; but I never fail to tell her of them."

"Nearly every day when she is in town; she is very good in coming to see such an old lady as I am. Last autumn she and the Duke came to Excombe, and I returned to Stoford with them."

"What a strange year!" I said.

Yes, the trousseau which we bought when she was going to marry Alton was the same which she had when she married the Duke." "Is she happy, do you think?"

"I can only say that she seems so; her good-humour is invariable, but her thoughts are beyond my knowledge. She has enough to make her unhappy if she thinks on Philip and Alton and poor John Earl! But I cannot tell if she do."

"The Duke-is he fond of her?"

"He is devoted to her; her will is law; her slightest wish is never neglected. She is certainly a spoiled wife. Now, Mr. Linton, have you any more questions to ask?"

"Not about Constance, thank you, Lady Dunsmore."

66 Are you going to inquire how I am?"

"Yes."

"Well then, I am out of humour with myself and with the world. I am of an age when I ought to be content to sit still by the fireside, but I cannot do it; and I see myself a dull old woman in the world, in which I used to be the head and centre of a gay society. I have had my day, and now I ought to give up my place to others; but I am not able to tear myself away. I love the world. I love gaiety. I am moped to death at Excombe. If I could only be good like Philip! But it is too late. I have lived for the world all my life, and now that I am no longer fit for it I cannot leave it."

Poor old lady! I heard afterwards from Philip that she had bemoaned herself bitterly to him. She clung to her old life with a tenacity dreadful to see in one so aged.

Philip had been to Stoford, but he had failed in his object, which was to catch sight of Constance when she drove out, as he learnt from Lady Dunsmore that she did every day. He had seen her child-a beautiful boy with his mother's eyes. The disappointment was a great one to him. "I fear," he said, "that my words will come true -I shall never see Constance again."