cast their shadows before. And as Sir William had unhappily succeeded to the family title and estates, it was not easy to see how his neighbours could have avoided recognising him, while he had behaved as if he meant to keep quiet, improve himself, and do his duty.

Mrs. Acton lamented the loss of Whitehills from a visiting list, which was inevitably short, for girls who could not go much from home, and yet ought to see a little society. She did not even think she could call there with her subscription-book, if the new Lady Thwaite proved the dreadful woman she was represented to be. Since the Smiths did not come to church, and Honor had been systematically kept from school, Mrs. Acton had no personal acquaintance with the offender. The clergyman's wife spoke as if she feared that if she presented herself at Sir William Thwaite's house-which it was her duty or Lucy's to do, and the matron must enter the breach to shield her daughter-then, when the visitor mentioned the Zenana Mission or the Coal and Blanket Clubs, and took out her subscriptionbook, the mistress of the establishment might have recourse to some appalling practice—

point a gun or swear an oath to drive the intruder away.

The Rector declared it was a highly unsuitable marriage, which did not recommend itself to him in any light. He had trusted that Sir William Thwaite was assuming his ancestral responsibilities, and preparing to discharge the obligations of his rank and position in a manner becoming his-well, he could not say his birth. and education, but he might put it—with some regard to the influence of his wealth and rank in the county. Instead, there was this utterly unbecoming, rash, ill-omened step, which was calculated to bring contempt on his order, and at the same time to heighten, rather than to decrease, class antagonism.

'I am rather sorry for the poor beggar,' King Lud stood up for the assailed man; 'though I do not believe he has any soul for music. You remember I could not agree with you on his waltzing, Miss Compton? Possibly the coming Lady Thwaite has never seen him waltz. I consider the loss is mutual-indeed, rather the greater on her side. She seems to be game all through-a splendid wife for the last of the great travellers, or the settler on the remotest verge of civilization-she will be

more lost at Whitehills than he can be, though he should fall back into her set.'

'Don't talk nonsense, my dear boy,' insisted Lucy. He must be a horrible man to have known anything better, and then to select a wild woman, a heathen, for his wife. I don't suppose she was ever so much as taught her Church Catechism. I know both papa and Mr. Venables were refused admittance to the cottage at Hawley Scrub-at least, they could never find anybody at home when they called; could you, papa

??

When Lucy was alone with her friend, then Lucy caught Iris's hands. 'It seems almost wrong to congratulate you on the dreadful folly of another person; but oh, I do, my dear I do wish you joy of such a wonderful escape! I know you never looked at him or thought of him for a second in such a light. Who has such good reason to know that as I? But when I remember how I brought myself to regard the match as bearable for you, how could I do it? Iris, it is like a special interposition of Providence on your behalf.'

Iris drew back with a little shiver, and grew very pale. What if it had been no special Providence, but simply her doing? His words

were ringing in her ears-that she had sent him away from her with seven devils, instead of one, to bear him company.

Lucy entirely misinterpreted Iris's emotion. 'It is hard for you, at present, my love, for we all know Lady Fermor is rather a difficult person to deal with; but though old people do not like to be thwarted in what they have set their hearts upon, they soon forget, and she will speedily recognise that you have been very fortunate, and will be thankful for it in her own way.'

'It is not that,' said Iris, twisting and untwisting her slim fingers; it is not grandmamma, though of course I am very sorry for having vexed her. But what if I drove him to it? It seems a very vain thing for me to say,' added Iris, blushing deeply, 'but I believe he cared for me a great deal more than I deserve. He was terribly put out in the hayfield.'

'You could not help that, Iris,' said Lucy promptly.

'No, but all of you, unless your brother, speak of her as if she were some shameful creature whom you can hardly bring yourselves to mention. And I am afraid,' con

tinued Iris, with her eyes growing moist and her lips quivering, 'when I first heard the story I did the same. I thought I was doubly disgraced by being brought into association with such a woman as Honor Smith. She was only a little less despicable than he was, because she did not know any better, and it did not appear to signify what became of her.'

'No, not that exactly,' denied Lucy.

'I had forgotten the forlorn child, the warmhearted girl who used to bring me from her wanderings in the woods and the downs, anything she thought I might like, and was so pleased to have it to give to me,' said Iris piteously. 'Indeed, Lucy, though she had the misfortune not to be taught or confirmed -though she has not availed herself of the privilege of coming to church-though she is wild, she is not bad, apart from such lawlessness as her father and brothers may have taught her. Now what will become of herof them both? Everybody will turn against them. She will be separated from the few friends of her own she has ever had, and if even he does not care for her, and they are both miserable, I am to blame for it all,' cried Iris, with her hazel eyes opening wide and her