accepting a little help from me, if it be really so that he's too poor to be able to send Reginald to College himself.”

"Now, brother," quoth Miss Betty, "nothing can be kinder than all this-'tis just what I should have expected of you-'tis just like yourself. But do take my advice for once-go about it quietly and cautiously. John's a Dalton in his temper, for all his quiet looks-we've had proof enough of that, I think. Do let them come over to Grypherwast, and be with us for a little while before you say any thing about these matters. A rash word, however well designed, might do a world of harm, Dick."

"But, sister, what will Barbara say, think ye? Will she like their coming?"

"No," says Mrs Elizabeth, "I don't think she will—at least not just at the first blush of the business (you know how she hated the idea of coming to Thorwold even)—but never mind, she'll soon get reconciled.”

"Yes, yes," says the Squire," I'm sure she'll get reconciled-she'll soon, as you say, get quite reconciled, and then all parties will be pleased."

"Hum!" muttered Betty to herself, “I'm not quite sure of that neither."-But whatever Mrs Betty's thought was, she did not choose to let her brother hear any thing of it; so, for the present, we also shall respect the lady's secret.

CHAPTER VIII.

It was on that same morning, while a gay and merry party were assembled round the breakfast table at Thorwold-hall, that the Vicar of Lannwell, having gathered from his pillow that resolution which he could not command the evening before, at length told his son the story of which the reader must have collected some notion from the dialogue in the last chapter. I shall not, however, now repeat it as he told it, both because that would occupy more space than I can afford, and because the Vicar (even had he told all he himself knew, which he did not, and indeed could not do,) would still have left untold much that the reader of his son's history may be the better for learning. Leaving it to the reader's own sagacity to discover where I am most likely to be go

ing beyond the communication of the father to the son, I shall, without farther preamble, give him some of the information at my disposal, in the shape of a brief and connected sketch.

John Dalton's father was, like his son, a clergyman. He had, rather late in life, been presented to a college living in the west of England, on which he immediately settled; and marrying the daughter of one of the neighbouring gentry, he became so much tied to that part of the country, that he had but slender opportunities of keeping up his intimacy with the members of his own family in the north. He died just about the time when his son John was fit for going to the university, leaving him in possession of a small patrimony, the greater part of which was necessarily expended in the course of a few years' residence at Oxford.

John, having taken his degree with some eclat, obtained, through the kindness of a young gentleman educated at the same college with himself, the small benefice of Lannwell, where, as we have seen, he spent the remainder of his life. On arriving in that part of England, he naturally lost

no time in repairing to Grypherwast-hall, where Mr Richard Dalton received him with all the ready hospitality of northern kinsmanship.

John Dalton was at that time a very good-looking young man. Though not possessing brilliant talents, he had, being diligent and temperate, obtained for himself considerable distinction among his contemporaries at the university; and it may fairly be supposed, that when he came down to take possession of his living in Westmoreland, his manners partook of that mixture of conscious dignity and stumbling rawness, which so often marks the demeanour of a young student fresh from the triumphs and the seclusion of a college life.

Under these circumstances, it was perhaps no great wonder that he should have wanted the tact to distinguish between the open courtesy of a wellbred cousin, and the attentive shyness of an admiring girl. In short, he fell into the silly blunder of supposing that Barbara Dalton (who then really was both young and beautiful) had fallen in love with him at first sight. He pondered over this flattering notion until he had banished every doubt;