In that momentary pause, he saw her standing alone, with the air of a person who had risen up unconsciously in sudden surprise and consternation. Her pale dark face looked not less confused and startled than Vincent himself was conscious of looking, and her eyes were turned in the same direction as his had been the previous moment. The crowd of Carlingford hearers died off from the scene for the instant, so far as the young Nonconformist was concerned. He knew but of that fair creature in all her sweet bloom and blush of beautythe man who accompanied herMrs. Hilyard, a thin, dark, eager shadow in the distanceand himself standing, as it were, between them, connecting all together. What could that visionary link be which distinguished and separated these four, so unlike each other, from all the rest of the world? But Mr. Vincent had no leisure to follow out the question, even had his mind been sufficiently clear to do it. He saw the pale woman at the end of the hall suddenly drop into her seat, and draw a thick black veil over her face; and the confused murmur of impatience in the crowd before him roused the young man to his own position. He opened the eyes which had been hazing over with clouds of imagination and excitement. He delivered his lecture. Though he never was himself aware what he had said, it was received with just as much attention and applause as usual. He got through it somehow; and, sitting down at last, with parched lips and a helpless feeling of excitement, watched the audience dispersing, as if they were so many enemies from whom he had escaped. Who was this man with Her? Why did She come to bewilder him in the midst of his work? It did not occur to the poor young fellow that Lady Western came to his lecture simply as to a distraction. He thought she had a purpose in it. He pretended not to look as she descended daintily from her seat in the orchestra, drawing her white cloak with a pretty shiver over her white shoulders. He pretended to start when her voice sounded in his expectant ear. Oh, Mr. Vincent, how very clever and wicked of you! cried Lady Western. I am so horrified, and charmed. To think of you attacking the poor dear old Church, that we all ought to support through everything! And I am such a stanch churchwoman, and so shocked to hear all this; but you wont do it any more. Saying this, Lady Western leaned her beautiful hand upon Mr. Vincents table, and looked in his face with a beseeching insinuating smile. The poor minister did all he could to preserve his virtue. He looked aside at Lady Westerns companion to fortify himself, and escape the enervating influence of that smile. I cannot pretend to yield the matter to your ladyship, said Vincent, for it had been previously arranged that this was to be the last of my lectures at present. I am sorry it did not please you. But it did please me, said the young Dowager; only that it was so very wicked and wrong. Where did you learn such dreadful sentiments? I am so sorry I shant hear you again, and so glad you are finished. You never came to see me after my little fte. I am afraid you thought us stupid. Goodnight but you really must come to me, and I shall convert you. I am sure you never can have looked at the Church in the right way why, what would become of us if we were all Dissenters? What a frightful idea! Thank you for such a charming evening. Goodnight. And Lady Western held out that treasured splendour, her hand, to the bewildered Nonconformist, who only dared touch it, and let it fall, drawing back from the smile with which the syren beguiled him back again into her toils. But Mr. Vincent turned round hastily as he heard a muttered exclamation, By Jove! behind him, and fixed the gaze of angry and instinctive repugnance upon the tall figure which brushed past. Make haste, Alicedo you mean to stay here all night? said this wrathful individual, fixing his eyes with a defiant stare upon the minister; and he drew the beautys arm almost roughly into his own, and hurried her away, evidently remonstrating in the freest and boldest manner upon her civility. By Jove! the fellow will think you are in love with him, Vincent, with his quickened and suspicious ears, could hear the stranger say, with that delightful indifference to being overheard which characterises some Englishmen of the exalted classes; and the strain of reproof evidently continued as they made their way to the door. Vincent, for his part, when he had watched them out of sight, dropped into his chair, and sat there in the empty hall, looking over the vacant benches with the strangest mixture of feelings. Was it possible that his eager fervour and revolutionary warmth were diminished by these few words and that smile?that the wrongs of Church and State looked less grievous all at once, and that it was an effort to return to the lofty state of feeling with which he had entered the place two hours ago? As he sat there in his reverie of discomfiture, he could see Tozer, a single black figure, come slowly up the hall, an emissary from the group at the door of chapel people, who had been enjoying the defeat of the enemy, and were now waiting for the conqueror. Mr. Vincent, shouted Tozer, shall we turn off the gas, and leave you to think it all over till the morning, sir? Theyre all as pleased as Punch and as curious as women down below here, and my Phbe will have it youre tired. I must say as it is peculiar to see you asitting up there all by yourself, and the lights going out, and not another soul in the place, added the butterman, looking round with a sober grin; and in reality the lights diminished every moment as Mr. Vincent rose and stumbled down from his platform into the great empty hall with its skeleton benches. If they had left him there till the morning, it would have been a blessed exchange from that walk home with the party, that invitation to supper, and all the applauses and inquiries that followed. They had the Pigeons to supper that night at the buttershop, and the whole matter was discussed in all its bearingsthe flutter of the Church folks, the new sittings let during the week, the triumphant conviction of the two deacons that Salem would soon be overflowing. Oh, why were deacons made so coarse, Or parsons made so fine? Mr. Vincent did not bethink himself of that touching ditty. He could not see the seriocomic lights in which the whole business abounded. It was all the saddest earnest to the young pastor, who found so little encouragement or support even in the enthusiasm of his flock. And, oh, Mr. Vincent, said the engaging Phbe, in a halfwhisper aside, how did you come to be so friendly with Lady Western? How she did listen, to be sure! and smiled at you so sweetly. Ah, I dont wonder now that you cant see anything in the Carlingford young ladies; but do tell us, please, how you came to know her so well? Insensibly to himself, a gleam of gratification lighted up Mr. Vincents face. He was gracious to Phbe. I cant pretend to know her well, he said, with a little mock humility; whereupon the matrons of the party took up their weapons immediately. And all the better, Mr. Vincentall the better! cried Mrs. Tozer; she didnt come there for no good, you may be sure. Them great ladies, when theyre prettylooking, as I dont deny shes prettylooking Oh, mamma, beautiful! exclaimed Phbe. When theyre prettylooking, as I say, continued Mrs. Tozer, theyre no better nor evil spiritsthats what I tell you, Phbe. Theyll go out o their way, they will, for to lay hold on a poor silly young man (which was not meaning you, Mr. Vincent, that knows better, being a minister), and when theyve got him fast, theyll laugh at himthats their sport. A minister of our connection as was well acquainted among them sort of folks would be out o nature. My boy shall never make no such acquaintances as long as Im here. I saw her aspeaking to the minister, said Mrs. Pigeon, and the thought crossed my mind as it wasnt just what I expected of Mr. Vincent. Painted ladies, that come out of a night with low necks and flowers in their hair, to have all Carlingford astaring at them, aint fit company for a good pastor. Thems not the lambs of the flocknot so far as I understand; theyre not friends as Salem folks would approve of, Mr. Vincent. Im always known for a plain speaker, and I dont deceive you. Its a deal better to draw back in time. I have not the least reason to believe that Lady Western means to honour me with her friendship, said Vincent, haughtilyso it is premature to discuss the matter. As I feel rather tired, perhaps youll excuse me tonight. Come over to my rooms, Mr. Tozer, tomorrow, if you can spare a little time and we will discuss our business there. I hope Mrs. Tozer will pardon me withdrawing so early, but I am not very wellrather tiredout of sorts a little tonight. So saying, the young pastor extricated himself from the table, shook hands, regardless of all remonstrances, and made his way out with some difficulty from the little room, which was chokefull, and scarcely permitted egress. When he was gone, the three ladies looked at each other in dumb amazement. Phbe, who felt herself aggrieved, was the first to break silence. Ma and Mrs. Pigeon, cried the aggravated girl, youve been and hurt his feelings. I knew you would. Hes gone home angry and disappointed; he thinks none of us understand him; he thinks were trying to humble him and keep him down, when, to tell the truth Here Phbe burst into tears. Upon my word, said Mrs. Pigeon, dear, deary me! Its just what I said whenever I knew you had made up your minds to a young minister. Hell come adangling after our girls, says I, and atrifling with their affections. Bless my heart, Phbe! if it had been my Maria now thats always acrying about somethingbut you! Dont take on, dearfrettings no gooditll spoil your colour and take away your appetite, and that aint the way to mend matters and to think of his lifting his eyes to my Lady Dowager! Upon my word! but there aint no accounting for young mens ways no more than for girlsand being a minister dont make a bit of difference, so far as I can see. Why, whats the matter? cried Tozer the pastors gone off in a huff, and Phbe crying. Whats wrong? Youve been saying somethinyou women with your sharp tongues. Its Phbe and Mr. Vincent have had some words. Be quiet, Tozerdont you see the childs hurt in her feelings? said his wife. Mr. and Mrs. Pigeon exchanged looks. Ill tell you what it is, said the latter lady, solemnly. Its turned his head. I never approved of the Music Hall myself. Its a deal of money to throw away, and its not like as if it was mercy to poor souls. And such a crush, and the cheering, and my Lady Western to shake hands with him, has turned the ministers head. Now, just you mark my words. He hasnt been here three month yet, and hes agetting high already. You menll have your own adoes with him. Afore a years over our heads, hell be a deal too high for Salem. His heads turnedthats what it is. Oh, Mrs. Pigeon, how unkind of you! cried Phbe, when hes as good as goodand not a bit proud, nor ever wasand always such a gentleman!and never neglects the very poorest whenever hes sent foroh, its so unkind of you. I cant see as his head isnt straight enough on his shoulders, said Tozer himself, with authority. Hes tired, thats what it isand excited a bit, I shouldnt wonder a man cant study like he does, and make hisself agreeable at the same timeno, noby a years time hell be settling down, and well know where we are; and as for Salem and our connection, they never had a chance, I can tell you, like what theyre agoing to have now. But Mrs. Pigeon shook her head. It was the first cloud that had risen on the firmament of Salem Chapel, so far as Mr. Vincent was concerned. CHAPTER IX. IT was a January night on which Vincent emerged abruptly from Tozers door, the evening of that lecturea winter night, not very cold, but very dark, the skies looking not blue, but black overhead, and the light of the lamps gleaming dismally on the pavement, which had received a certain squalid power of reflection from the recent rain; for a sharp, sudden shower had fallen while Vincent had been seated at the hospitable table of the butterman, which had chased everybody from the darkling streets. All the shops were closed, a policeman marched along with heavy tread, and the wet pavement glimmered round his solitary figure. Nothing more uncomfortable could be supposed after the warmth and light of a snug interior, however humble; and the minister turned his face hastily in the direction of his lodging. But the next moment he turned back again, and looked wistfully in the other direction. It was not to gaze along the dark length of street to where the gardenwalls of Grange Lane, undiscernible in the darkness, added a farwithdrawing perspective of gentility and aristocratic seclusion to the vulgar pretensions of George Street; it was to look at a female figure which came slowly up, dimming out the reflection on the wet stones as it crossed one streak of lamplight after another. Vincent was excited and curious, and had enough in his own mind to make him wistful for sympathy, if it were to be had from any understanding heart. He recognised Mrs. Hilyard instinctively as she came forward, not conscious of him, walking, strange woman as she was, with the air of a person walking by choice at that melancholy hour in that dismal night. She was evidently not going anywhere her step was firm and distinct, like the step of a person thoroughly selfpossessed and afraid of nothingbut it lingered with a certain meditative sound in the steady firm footfall. Vincent felt a kind of conviction that she had come out here to think over some problem of that mysterious life into which he could not penetrate, and he connected this strange walk involuntarily with the appearance of Lady Western and her careless companion. To his roused fancy, some incomprehensible link existed between himself and the equally incomprehensible woman before him. He turned back almost in spite of himself, and went to meet her. Mrs. Hilyard looked up when she heard his step. She recognised him also on the spot. They approached each other much as if they had arranged a meeting at eleven oclock of that wet January night in the gleaming, deserted streets. It is you, Mr. Vincent! she said. I wonder why I happen to meet you, of all persons in the world, tonight. It is very odd. What, I wonder, can have brought us both together at such an hour and in such a place? You never came to see me that Mondaynor any Monday. You went to see my beauty instead, and you were so lucky as to be affronted with the syren at the first glance. Had you been less fortunate, I think I might have partly taken you into my confidence tonight. Perhaps I am less fortunate, if that is all that hinders, said Vincent; but it is strange to see you out here so late in such a dismal night. Let me go with you, and see you safe home. Thank you. I am perfectly safenobody can possibly be safer than such a woman as I am, in poverty and middle age, said his strange acquaintance. It is an immunity that women dont often prize, Mr. Vincent, but it is very valuable in its way. If anybody saw you talking to an equivocal female figure at eleven oclock in George Street, think what the butterman would say; but a single glimpse of my face would explain matters better than a volume. I am going down towards Grange Lane, principally because I am restless tonight, and dont know what to do with myself. I shall tell you what I thought of your lecture if you will walk with me to the end of the street. Ah, my lecture?never mind, said the hapless young minister; I forget all about that. What is it that brings you here, and me to your side?what is there in that darkveiled house yonder that draws your steps and mine to it? It is not accidental, our meeting here. You are talking romance and nonsense, quite inconceivable in a man who has just come from the society of deacons, said Mrs. Hilyard, glancing up at him with that habitual gleam of her eyes. We have met, my dear Mr. Vincent, because, after refreshing my mind with your lecture, I thought of refreshing my body by a walk this fresh night. One saves candles, you know, when one does ones exercise at night whereas walking by day one wastes everythingtime, tissue, daylight, invaluable treasures the only light that hurts nobodys eyes, and costs nobody money, is the light of day. That illustration of yours about the clouds and the sun was very pretty. I assure you I thought the whole exceedingly effective. I should not wonder if it made a revolution in Carlingford. Why do you speak to me so? I know you did not go to listen to my lecture, said the young minister, to whom sundry gleams of enlightenment had come since his last interview with the poor needlewoman of Back Grove Street. Ah! how can you tell that? she said, sharply, looking at him in the streak of lamplight. But to tell the truth, she continued, I did actually go to hear you, and to look at other peoples faces, just to see whether the world at largeso far as that exists in Carlingfordwas like what it used to be; and if I confess I saw something there more interesting than the lecture, I say no more than the lecturer could agree in, Mr. Vincent. You, too, saw something that made you forget the vexed question of Church and State. Tell me, said Vincent, with an earnestness he was himself surprised at, who was that man? His companion started as if she had received a blow, turned round upon him with a glance in her dark eyes such as he had never seen there before, and in a sudden momentary passion drew her breath hard, and stopped short on the way. But the spark of intense and passionate emotion was as shortlived as it was vivid. I do not suppose he is anything to interest you, she answered the next moment, with a movement of her thin mouth, letting the hands that she had clasped together drop to her side. Nay, make yourself quite easy; he is not a lover of my ladys. He is only a near relationand, she continued, lingering on the words with a force of subdued scorn and rage, which Vincent dimly apprehended, but could not understand, a very fascinating fine gentlemana man who can twist a woman round his fingers when he likes, and break all her heartstringsif she has anyso daintily afterwards, that it would be a pleasure to see him do it. Ah, a wonderful man! You know him then? I saw you knew him, said the young man, surprised and disturbed, thrusting the first commonplace words he could think of into the silence, which seemed to tingle with the restrained meaning of this brief speech. I dont think we are lucky in choosing our subjects tonight, said the strange woman. How about the ladies in Lonsdale, Mr. Vincent? They dont keep a school? I am glad they dont keep a school. Teaching, you know, unless when one has a vocation for it, as you had a few weeks ago, is uphill work. I am sorry to see you are not so sure about your work as you were then. Your sister is pretty, I suppose? and does your mother take great care of her and keep her out of harms way? Lambs have a silly faculty of running directly in the wolfs road. Why dont you take a holiday and go to see them, or have them here to live with you? You know something about them, said Vincent, alarmed. What has happened?tell me. It will be the greatest kindness to say it out at once. Hush, said Mrs. Hilyard; now you are absurd. I speak out of my own thoughts, as most persons do, and you, like all young people, make personal applications. How can I possibly know about them? I am not a fanciful woman, but there are some things that wake ones imagination. In such a dark night as this, with such wet gleams about the streets, when I think of people at a distance, I always think of something uncomfortable happening. Misfortune seems to lie in wait about those black corners. I think of women wandering along dismal solitary roads with babies in their shameful armsand of dreadful messengers of evil approaching unconscious houses, and looking in at peaceful windows upon the comfort they are about to destroy; and I think, she continued, crossing the road so rapidly (they were now opposite Lady Westerns house) that Vincent, who had not anticipated the movement, had to quicken his pace suddenly to keep up with her, of evil creatures pondering in the dark vile schemes against the innocent Here she broke off all at once, and, looking up in Vincents face with that gleam of secret mockery in her eyes and movement of her mouth to which he was accustomed, added, suddenly changing her tone, Or of fine gentlemen, Mr. Vincent, profoundly bored with their own society, promenading in a dreary garden and smoking a disconsolate cigar. Look there! The young minister, much startled and rather nervous, mechanically looked, as she bade him, through the little grated loophole in Lady Westerns gardendoor. He saw the lights shining in the windows, and a red spark moving about before the house, as, with a little shame for his undignified position, he withdrew his eyes from that point of vantage. But Mrs. Hilyard was moved by no such sentiment. She planted herself opposite the door, and, bending her head to the little grating, gazed long and steadfastly. In the deep silence of the night, standing with some uneasiness at her side, and not insensible to the fact that his position, if he were seen by anybody who knew him, would be rather absurd and slightly equivocal, Vincent heard the footsteps of the man inside, the fragrance of whose cigar faintly penetrated the damp air. The stranger was evidently walking up and down before the house in enjoyment of that luxury which the feminine arrangements of the young Dowagers household would not permit indoors; but the steady eagerness with which this strange woman gazedthe way in which she had managed to interweave Mrs. Vincent and pretty Susan at Lonsdale into the conversationthe suggestions of coming danger and evil with which her words had invested the very night, all heightened by the instinctive repugnance and alarm of which the young man had himself been conscious whenever he met the eye of Lady Westerns companionfilled him with discomfort and dread. His mind, which had been lately too much occupied in his own concerns to think much of Susan, reverted now with sudden uneasiness to his mothers cottage, from which Susans betrothed had lately departed to arrange matters for their speedy marriage. But how Lady Westerns near relationthis man whom Mrs. Hilyard watched with an intense regard which looked like hatred, but might be dead lovecould be connected with Lonsdale, or Susan, or himself, or the poor needlewoman in Back Grove Street, Vincent could not form the remotest idea. He stood growing more and more impatient by that dark closed door, which had once looked a gate of paradisewhich, he felt in his heart, halfadozen words or a single smile could any day make again a gate of the paradise of fools to his bewildered feetthe steps of the unseen stranger within, and the quick breath of agitation from the watcher by his side, being the only sounds audible in the silence of the night. At last some restless movement he made disturbed Mrs. Hilyard in her watch. She left the door noiselessly and rapidly, and turned to recross the wet road. Vincent accompanied her without saying a word. The two walked along together half the length of Grange Lane without breaking silence, without even looking at each other, till they came to the large placid white lamp at Dr. Marjoribankss gate, which cleared a little oasis of light out of the heart of the gloom. There she looked up at him with a face full of agitated life and motionkindled eyes, elevated head, nostril and lips swelling with feelings which were totally undecipherable to Vincent; her whole aspect changed by an indescribable inspiration which awoke remnants of what might have been beauty in that thin, dark, middleaged face. You are surprised at me and my curiosity, she said, and indeed you have good reason; but it is astonishing, when one is shut up in ones self and knows nobody, how excited one gets over the sudden apparition of a person one has known in the other world. Some people die two or three times in a lifetime, Mr. Vincent. There is a real transmigration of souls, or bodies, or both if you please. This is my third life I am going through at present. I knew that man, as I was saying, in the other world. The world does change strangely, said Vincent, who could not tell what to say; but you put it very stronglymore strongly than I More strongly than you can understand; I know that very well, said Mrs. Hilyard; but you perceive you are speaking to a woman who has died twice. Coming to life is a bitter process, but one gets over it. If you ever should have such a thing to go through withand survive it, she added, giving him a wistful glance, I should like to tell you my experiences. However, I hope better things. You are very well looked after at Salem Chapel, Mr. Vincent. I think of you sometimes when I look out of my window and see your tabernacle. It is not so pretty as Mr. Wentworths at St. Roques, but you have the advantage of the curate otherwise. So far as I can see, he never occupies himself with anything higher than his prayerbook and his poor people. I doubt much whether he would ever dream of replying to what you told us tonight. Probably he holds a Dissenting minister in too much contempt, said Vincent, with an uncomfortable smile on his lips. Dont sneernever sneerno gentleman does, said his companion. I like you, though you are only a Dissenting minister. You know me to be very poor, and you have seen me in very odd circumstances tonight; yet you walk home with meI perceive you are steering towards Back Grove Street, Mr. Vincentwithout an illusion which could make me feel myself an equivocal person, and just as if this was the most reasonable thing in the world which I have been doing tonight. Thank you. You are a paladin in some things, though in others only a Dissenting minister. If I were a fairy, the gift I would endow you with would be just that same unconsciousness of your own disadvantages, which courtesy makes you show of mine. Indeed, said Vincent, with natural gratification, it required no discrimination on my part to recognise at once that I was addressing Hush! you have never even insinuated that an explanation was necessary, which is the very height and climax of fine manners, said Mrs. Hilyard; and I speak who am, or used to be, an authority in such matters. I dont mean to give you any explanation either. Now, you must turn back and go home. Goodnight. One thing I may tell you, however, she continued, with a little warmth; dont mistake me. There is no reason in this world why you might not introduce me to the ladies in Lonsdale, if any accident brought it about that we should meet. I say this to make your mind easy about your penitent; and now, my good young father in the faith, goodnight. Let me see you to your door first, said the wondering young man. Nono farther. Goodnight, she said, hastily, shaking hands, and leaving him. The parting was so sudden that it took Vincent a minute to stop short, under way and walking quickly as he was. When she had made one or two rapid steps in advance, Mrs. Hilyard turned back, as if with a sudden impulse. Do you know I have an uneasiness about these ladies in Lonsdale? she said; I know nothing whatever about themnot so much as their names; but you are their natural protector; and it does not do for women to be as magnanimous and generous in the reception of strangers as you are. There! dont be alarmed. I told you I knew nothing. They may be as safe, and as middleaged, and as ugly as I am; instead of a guileless widow and a pretty little girl, they may be hardened old campaigners like myself; but they come into my mind, I cannot tell why. Have them here to live beside you, and they will do you good. My sister is about to be married, said Vincent, more and more surprised, and looking very sharply into her face in the lamplight, to see whether she really did not know anything more than she said. A certain expression of relief came over her face. Then all is well, she said, with strange cordiality, and again held out her hand to him. Then they parted, and pursued their several ways through the perfectly silent and dimlylighted streets. Vincent walked home with the most singular agitation in his mind. Whether to give any weight to such vague but alarming suggestionswhether to act immediately upon the indefinite terror thus insinuated into his thoughtsor to write, and wait till he heard whether any real danger existedor to cast it from him altogether as a fantastic trick of imagination, he could not tell. Eventful and exciting as the evening had been, he postponed the other matters to this. If any danger threatened Susan, his simple mother could suffer with her, but was ill qualified to protect her but what danger could threaten Susan? He consoled himself with the thought that these were not the days of abductions or violent lovemaking. To think of an innocent English girl in her mothers house as threatened with mysterious danger, such as might have surrounded a heroine of the last century, was impossible. If there are Squire Thornhills nowadays, their operations are of a different character. Walking rapidly home, with now and then a blast of chill rain in his face, and the lamplight gleaming in the wet streets, Vincent found less and less reason for attaching any importance to Mrs. Hilyards hints and alarms. It was the sentiment of the night, and her own thoughts, which had suggested such fears to her minda mind evidently experienced in paths more crooked than any which Vincent himself, much less simple Susan, had ever known. When he reached home, he found his little fire burning brightly, his room arranged with careful nicety, which was his landladys appropriate and sensible manner of showing her appreciation of the nights lecture, and her devotion to the minister; and, lastly, on the table a letter from that little house in Lonsdale, round which such fanciful fears had gathered. Never was there a letter which breathed more of the peaceful security and tranquillity of home. Mrs. Vincent wrote to her Arthur in mingled rejoicing and admonition, curious and delighted to hear of his lectures, but not more anxious about his fame and success than about his flannels and precautions against wet feet; while Susans postscripta half longer than the letter to which it was appendedfurnished her affectionate brother with sundry details, totally incomprehensible to him, of her wedding preparations, and, more shyly, of her perfect girlish happiness. Vincent laughed aloud as he folded up that womans letter. No mysterious horror, no whispering doubtful gloom, surrounded that house from which the pure, full daylight atmosphere, untouched by any darkness, breathed fresh upon him out of these simple pages. Here, in this humble virtuous world, were no mysteries. It was a deliverance to a heart which had begun to falter. Wherever fate might be lingering in the wild darkness of that January night, it was not on the threshold of his mothers house. CHAPTER X. ON the next evening after this there was a teameeting in Salem Chapel. In the back premises behind the chapel were all needful accommodations for the provision of that popular refreshmentboilers, teaurns, unlimited crockery and pewter. In fact, it was one of Mr. Tozers boasts, that owing to the liberality of the connection in Carlingford, Salem was fully equipped in this respect, and did not need to borrow so much as a spoon or teapot, a very important matter under the circumstances. This, however, was the first teameeting which had taken place since that one at which Mr.


Tuftons purse had been presented to him, and the old pastor had taken leave of his flock. The young pastor, indeed, had set his face against teameetings. He was so far behind his age as to doubt their utility, and declared himself totally unqualified to preside over such assemblies; but, in the heat of his recent disappointment, when, stung by other peoples neglect, he had taken up Salem and all belonging to it into his bosom, a cruel use had been made of the young ministers compliance. They had wrung a reluctant consent from him in that unguarded moment, and the walls of Carlingford had been for some days blazing with placards of the teameeting, at which the now famous (in Carlingford) lecturer on Church and State was to speak. Not Tozer, with all his eloquence, had been able to persuade the pastor to preside; but at least he was to appear, to take tea at that table elevated on the platform, where Phbe Tozer, under the matronly care of Mrs. Brown (for it was necessary to divide these honours, and guard against jealousy), dispensed the fragrant lymph, and to address the meeting. There had been thoughts of a grand celebration in the Music Hall to do more honour to the occasion; but as that might have neutralised the advantages of having all the needful utensils within themselves, convenience and economy carried the day, and the scene of these festivities, as of all the previous festivities of Salem, was the large low room underneath the chapel, once intended for a school, but never used, except on Sundays, in that capacity. Thither for two or three days all the young ladies of the chapel had streamed to and fro, engaged in decorations. Some manufactured festoons of evergreens, some concocted pink and white roses in paper to embellish the same. The printed texts of the Sunday school were framed, and in some cases obliterated, in Christmas garlands. Christmas, indeed, was past, but there were still holly and red berries and green smooth laurel leaves. The Pigeon girls, Phbe Tozer, Mrs. Browns niece from the country, and the other young people in Salem who were of sufficiently advanced position, enjoyed the preparations greatlyentering into them with even greater heartiness than Lucy Wodehouse exhibited in the adornment of St. Roques, and taking as much pleasure in the task as if they had been picturesque Italians adorning the shrine of their favourite saint. Catterina and Francesca with their flowergarlands are figures worthy of any picture, and so is Lucy Wodehouse under the chancel arch at St. Roques; but how shall we venture to ask anybodys sympathy for Phbe and Maria Pigeon as they put up their festoons round the four square walls of the low schoolroom in preparation for the Salem teaparty? Nevertheless it is a fact that the two last mentioned had very much the same intentions and sensations, and amid the coils of fresh ivy and laurel did not look amiss in their cheerful laboura fact which, before the work was completed, had become perceptible to various individuals of the Carlingford public. But Mr. Vincent was, on this point, as on several others, unequal to the requirements of his position. When he did glance in for a moment of the afternoon of the eventful day, it was in company with Tozer and the Rev. Mr. Raffles of Shoebury, who was to take the chair. Mr. Raffles was very popular in Carlingford, as everywhere. To secure him for a teameeting was to secure its success. He examined into all the preparations, tasted the cake, pricked his fingers with the garlands to the immense delight of the young ladies, and complimented them on their skill with beaming cheerfulness; while the minister of Salem, on the contrary, stalked about by his side pale and preoccupied, with difficulty keeping himself from that contempt of the actual things around to which youth is so often tempted. His mind wandered off to the companion of his last nights walkto the stranger pacing up and down that damp garden with inscrutable unknown thoughtsto the beautiful creature within those lighted windows, so near and yet so overwhelmingly distantas if somehow they had abstracted life and got it among themselves. Mr. Vincent had little patience for what he considered the mean details of existence nearer at hand. As soon as he could possibly manage it, he escaped, regarding with a certain hopeless disgust the appearance he had to make in the evening, and without finding a single civil thing to say to the fair decorators. My young brother looks sadly low and out of spirits, said jolly Mr. Raffles. What do you mean by being so unkind to the minister, Miss Phbe, eh? Poor Phbe blushed pinker than ever, while the rest laughed. It was pleasant to be supposed unkind to the minister; and Phbe resolved to do what she could to cheer him when she sat by his elbow at the platform table making tea for the visitors of the evening. The evening came, and there was not a ticket to be had anywhere in Carlingford the schoolroom, with its blazing gas, its festoons, and its mottoes, its tables groaning with darkcomplexioned plumcake and heavy buns, was crowded quite beyond its accommodation; and the edifying sight might be seen of Tozer and his brother deacons, and indeed all who were sufficiently interested in the success of Salem to sacrifice themselves on its behalf, making an erratic but not unsubstantial tea in corners, to make room for the crowd. And in the highest goodhumour was the crowd which surrounded all the narrow tables. The urns were well filled, the cake abundant, the company in its best attire. The ladies had bonnets, it is true, but these bonnets were worthy the occasion. At the table on the platform sat Mr. Raffles, in the chair, beaming upon the assembled party, with cheerful little Mrs. Tufton and Mrs. Brown at one side of him, and Phbe looking very pink and pretty, shaded from the too enthusiastic admiration of the crowd below by the teaurn at which she officiated. Next to her, the minister cast abstracted looks upon the assembly. He was, oh, so interesting in his silence and pallor!he spoke little; and when any one addressed him, he had to come back as if from a distance to hear. If anybody could imagine that Mr. Raffles contrasted dangerously with Mr. Vincent in that reserve and quietness, it would be a mistake unworthy a philosophic observer. On the contrary, the Salem people were all doubly proud of their pastor. It was not to be expected that such a man as he should unbend as the reverend chairman did. They preferred that he should continue on his stilts. It would have been a personal humiliation to the real partisans of the chapel, had he really woke up and come down from that elevation. The more commonplace the ordinary connection was, the more proud they felt of their student and scholar. So Mr. Vincent leaned his head upon his hands and gazed unmolested over the lively company, taking in all the particulars of the scene, the busy groups engaged in mere teamaking and teaconsumingthe flutter of enjoyment among humble girls and womankind who knew no pleasure more excitingthe whispers which pointed out himself to strangers among the partythe triumphant face of Tozer at the end of the room, jammed against the wall, drinking tea out of an empty sugarbasin. If the scene woke any movement of human sympathy in the bosom of the young Nonconformist, he was half ashamed of himself for it. What had the high mission of an evangelistthe lofty ambition of a man trained to enlighten his countrythe warm assurance of talent which felt itself entitled to the highest sphere,what had these great things to do in a Salem Chapel teameeting? So the lofty spirit held apart, gazing down from a mental elevation much higher than the platform; and all the people who had heard his lectures pointed him out to each other, and congratulated themselves on that studious and separated aspect which was so unlike other men. In fact, the fine superiority of Mr. Vincent was at the present moment the very thing that was wanted to rivet their chains. Even Mrs. Pigeon looked on with silent admiration. He was highnever before had Salem known a minister who did not condescend to be gracious at a teameetingand the leader of the opposition honoured him in her heart. And even when at last the social meal was over, when the urns were cleared away, and with a rustle and flutter the assembly composed itself to the intellectual regale about to follow, Mr. Vincent did not change his position. Mr. Raffles made quite one of his best speeches; he kept his audience in a perpetual flutter of laughter and applause; he set forth all the excellencies of the new minister with such detail and fulness as only the vainest could have swallowed. But the pleased congregation still applauded. He praised Mr. Tufton, the venerable father of the community, he praised the admirable deacons; he praised the arrangements. In short, Mr. Raffles applauded everybody, and everybody applauded Mr. Raffles. After the chairman had concluded his speech, the hero of the evening gathered himself up dreamily, and rose from Phbe Tozers side. He told them he had been gazing at them this hour past, studying the scene before him; how strangely they appeared to him, standing on this little bright gaslighted perch amid the dark sea of life that surged round them; that now he and they were face to face with each other, it was not their social pleasure he was thinking of, but that dark unknown existence that throbbed and echoed around he bade them remember the dark night which enclosed that town of Carlingford, without betraying the secret of its existence even to the nearest village; of those dark streets and houses which hid so many lives and hearts and tragic histories; he enlarged upon Mrs. Hilyards idea of the sentiment of such a night, till timid people threw glances behind them, and some sensitive mothers paused to wonder whether the minister could have heard that Tommy had fallen into the fire, or Mary scalded herself, and took this way to break the news. The speech was the strangest that ever was listened to at a teaparty. It was the wayward capricious pouring forth of a fanciful young mind under an unquiet influence, having no connection whatever with the object, the place, or the listeners. The consequence was, that it was listened to with breathless interestthat the faces grew pale and the eyes bright, and shivers of restrained emotion ran through the astonished audience. Mr. Vincent perceived the effect of his eloquence, as a nursery storyteller perceives the rising sob of her little hearers. When he saw it, he awoke, as the same nursery minstrel does sometimes, to feel how unreal was the sentiment in his own breast which had produced this genuine feeling in others, and with a sudden amusement proceeded to deepen his colours and make bolder strokes of effect. His success was perfect; before he concluded, he had in imagination dismissed the harmless Salem people out of their very innocent recreation to the dark streets which thrilled round themto the world of unknown life, of which each man for himself had some knowledgeto the tragedies that might be going on side by side with them, for aught they knew. His hearers drew a long breath when it was over. They were startled, frightened, enchanted. If they had been witnessing a melodrama, they scarcely could have been more excited. He had put the most dreadful suggestions in their mind of all sorts of possible trouble; he sat down with the consciousness of having done his duty by Salem for this night at least. But when Tozer got up after him to tell about the prosperity of the congregation, the anticlimax was felt even by the people of Salem. Some said, No, no, audibly, some laughed, not a few rose up and went away. Vincent himself, feeling the room very hot, and not disliking the little commotion of interest which arose on his departure, withdrew himself from the platform, and made his way to the little vestry, where a breath of air was to be had; for, January night as it was, the crowd and the tea had established a very high temperature in the underregions of Salem. He opened the window in the vestry, which looked out upon the damp ground behind the chapel and the few gravestones, and threw himself down on the little sofa with a sensation of mingled selfreproach and amusement. Somehow, even when one disapproves of ones self for doing it, one has a certain enjoyment in bewildering the world. Mr. Vincent was rather pleased with his success, although it was only a variety of humbug. He entertained with Christian satisfaction the thought that he had succeeded in introducing a certain visionary uneasiness into the lively atmosphere of the teameetingand he was delighted with his own cleverness in spite of himself. While he lay back on his sofa, and pondered this gratifying thought, he heard a subdued sound of voices outsidevoices and steps that fell with but little sound upon the damp grass. A languid momentary wonder touched the mind of the minister who could have chosen so doleful a retirement? It was about the last place in the world for a lovers interview, which was the first thing that suggested itself to the young man; the next moment he started bolt upright, and listened with undisguised curiosity. That voice so different from the careless voices of Salem, the delicate refined intonations which had startled him in the shabby little room in Back Grove Street, awoke an interest in his mind which no youthful accents in Carlingford could have excited. He sat upright on the instant, and edged towards the open window. The gas burned low in the little vestry, which nobody had been expected to enter, and the illumination from all the schoolroom windows, and sounds of cheering and commotion there, had doubtless made the absolute darkness and silence behind seem perfectly safe to the two invisible people now meeting under the cloud of night. Mr. Vincent was not startled into eavesdropping unawares, nor did he engage in any sophistical argument to justify himself for listening. On the contrary, he listened honestly, with the full intention of hearing all he couldsuddenly changed from the languid sentimentalist, painful and selfconscious, which the influences of the evening had made him, into a spectator very wide awake and anxious, straining his ear to catch some knowledge of a history, in which a crowd of presentiments warned him that he himself should yet be concerned. If you must speak, speak here, said that voice which Vincent had recognised it is scarcely the atmosphere for a man of your fine taste, to be sure; but considering the subject of the conference, it will do. What do you want with me? By Jove, it looks dangerous!what do you mean to suggest by this sweet rendezvousmurder? said the man, whoever he was, who had accompanied Mrs. Hilyard to the damp yard of Salem Chapel, with its scattered graves. My nerves are strong, she answered. It is a pity you should take the trouble to be melodramatic. Do you think I am vain enough to imagine that you could subject yourself to all the unpleasant accessories of being hanged on my account? Fancy a rough hempen rope, and the dirty fingers that would adjust it. Pah! you would not risk it for me. Her companion swore a muttered oath. By Jove! I believe youd be content to be murdered, to make such an end of me, he answered, in the baffled tone of rage which a man naturally sinks into when engaged in unequal conflict of recrimination with a woman. This is too conjugal, said Mrs. Hilyard; it reminds me of former experiences come to the point, I beg of you. You did not come here and seek me out that we might have an amusing conversationwhat do you want with me? Dont tempt me too far with your confounded impertinence, exclaimed the man, or there is no telling what may happen. I want to know where that child is; you know I do. I mean to reclaim my rights so far as she is concerned. If she had been a ward in Chancery, a man might have submitted. But I am a reformed individualmy life is of the most exemplary descriptionno court in Christendom would keep her from my custody now. I want the girl for her own goodshe shall marry brilliantly, which she never could do with you. I know shes grown up as lovely as I expected How do you know? interrupted Mrs. Hilyard, with a certain hoarseness in her voice. Ah! I have touched you at last. Remembering what her mother was, he went on, in a mocking tone, though I am grieved to see how much you have gone off in late yearsand having a humble consciousness of her fathers personal advantages, and, in short, of her relatives in general, I know shes a little beautyand, by Jove, she shall be a duchess yet. There was a pausesomething like a hard sob thrilled in the air, rather a vibration than a sound; and Vincent, making a desperate gesture of rage towards the schoolroom, from which a burst of applause at that moment sounded, approached closer to the window. Then the womans voice burst forth passionate, but subdued. You have seen her! you!you that blasted her life before she was born, and confused her sweet mind for everhow did you dare to look at my child? And I, cried the passionate voice, forgetting even cautionI, that would give my life drop by drop to restore what never can be restored to that victim of your sin and my weaknessI do not see her. I refuse myself that comfort. I leave it to others to do all that love and pity can do for my baby. You speak of murderman! if I had a knife, I could find it in my heart to put an end to your horrid career; and, look you, I willCoward! I will! I will kill you before you shall lay your vile hands on my child. Shewolf! cried the man, grinding his teeth, do you know how much it would be to my advantage if you never left this lonely spot you have brought me to? By Jove, I have the greatest mind Another momentary silence. Vincent, wound up to a high state of excitement, sprang noiselessly to his feet, and was rushing to the window to proclaim his presence, when Mrs. Hilyards voice, perfectly calm, and in its usual tone, brought him back to himself. Second thoughts are best. It would compromise you horribly, and put a stop to many pleasuresnot to speak of those dreadful dirty fingers arranging that rough rope round your neck, which, pardon me, I cant help thinking of when you associate your own name with such a vulgar suggestion as murder. I should not mind these little details, but you! However, I excited myself unreasonably, you have not seen her. That skilful inference of yours was only a lie. She was not at Lonsdale, you know. How the devil do you know I was at Lonsdale? said her companion. I keep myself informed of the movements of so interesting a person. She was not there. No, replied the man, she was not there; but I need not suggest to your clear wits that there are other Lonsdales in England. What if Miss Mildmay were in her fathers lawful guardianship now? Here the air palpitated with a cry, the cry as of a wild creature in sudden blind anguish. It was echoed by a laugh of mockery and exultation. Should you like me to tell you which of the Lonsdales you honoured with your patronage? continued the mocking voice that in Derbyshire, or that in Devonshire, or that in Cumberland? I am afflicted to have defeated your skilful scheme so easily. Now that you see I am a match for you, perhaps you will perceive that it is better to yield peaceably, and unite with me in securing the girls good. She needs only to be seen to Who do you imagine you are addressing, Colonel Mildmay? said Mrs. Hilyard, haughtily; there has been enough of this you are mistaken if you think you can deceive me for more than a moment my child is not in your hands, and never will be, please God. But mark what I say, she continued, drawing a fierce, hard breath, if you should ever succeed in tracing herif you should ever be able to snatch her from methen confess your sins, and say your last prayers, for as sure as I live you shall die in a week. Shedevil! murderess! cried her companion, not without a certain shade of alarm in his voice; if your power were equal to your will In that case my power should be equal to my will, said the steady, delicate womans voice, as clear in very fine articulation as if it were some peaceful arrangement of daily life for which she declared herself capable you should not escape if you surrounded yourself with a kings guards. I swear to you, if you do what you say, that I will kill you somehow, by whatever means I can attainand I have never yet broken my word. An unsteady defiant laugh was the only reply. The man was evidently more impressed with the sincerity, and power to execute her intentions, of the woman than she with his. Apparently they stood regarding each other for another momentary interval in silence. Again Mrs. Hilyard was the first to speak. I presume our conference is over now, she said, calmly; how you could think of seeking it is more than I can understand. I suppose poor pretty Alice, who thinks every woman can be persuaded, induced you to attempt this. Dont let me keep you any longer in a place so repugnant to your taste. I am going to the teameeting at Salem Chapel to hear my young friend the minister speak perhaps this unprofitable discussion has lost me that advantage. You heard him the other night, and were pleased, I trust. Goodnight. I suppose, before leaving you, I should thank you for having spared my life. Vincent heard the curse upon her and her stinging tongue, which burst in a growl of rage from the lips of the other, but he did not see the satirical curtsy with which this strange woman swept past, nor the scarcely controllable impulse which made the man lift his stick and clench it in his hand as she turned away from him those keen eyes, out of which even the gloom of night could not quench the light. But even Mrs. Hilyard herself never knew how near, how very near, she was at that moment to the unseen world. Had her step been less habitually firm and rapid,had she lingered on her waythe temptation might have been too strong for the man, maddened by many memories. He made one stride after her, clenching his stick. It was perfectly dark in that narrow passage which led out to the front of the chapel. She might have been stunned in a moment, and left there to die, without any man being the wiser. It was not virtue, nor hatred of bloodshed, nor repugnance to harm her, which restrained Colonel Mildmays hand it was half the rapidity of her movements, and half the instinct of a gentleman, which vice itself could not entirely obliterate. Perhaps he was glad when he saw her disappear from before him down the lighted steps into the Salem schoolroom. He stood in the darkness and watched her out of sight, himself unseen by any one, and then departed on his way, a splendid figure, all unlike the population of Grove Street. Some of the Salem people, dispersing at the moment, saw him sauntering down the street grand and leisurely, and recognised the gentleman who had been seen in the Music Hall with Lady Western. They thought he must have come privately once more to listen to their ministers eloquence. Probably Lady Western herself, the leader of fashion in Carlingford, would appear next Sunday to do Mr. Vincent honour. The sight of this very fine gentleman picking his leisurely way along the dark pavement of Grove Street, leaning confidingly upon that stick over which his tall person swayed with fashionable languor, gave a climax to the evening in the excited imaginations of Mr. Vincents admirers. Nobody but the minister and one utterly unnoted individual in the crowd knew what had brought the Colonel and his stick to such a place. Nobody but the Colonel himself, and the watchful heavens above, knew how little had prevented him from leaving a silent, awful witness of that secret interview upon the chapel steps. When Mr. Vincent returned to the platform, which he did hurriedly, Mr. Pigeon was addressing the meeting. In the flutter of inquiries whether he was better, and gentle hopes from Phbe that his studies had not been too much for him, nobody appeared to mark the eagerness of his eyes, and the curiosity in his face. He sat down in his old place, and pretended to listen to Mr. Pigeon. Anxiously from under the shadow of his hands he inspected the crowd before him, who had recovered their spirits. In a corner close to the door he at last found the face he was in search of. Mrs. Hilyard sat at the end of a table, leaning her face on her hand. She had her eyes fixed upon the speaker, and there passed now and then across the corners of her closeshut mouth that momentary movement which was her symbol for a smile. She was not pretending to listen, but giving her entire attention to the honest poulterer. Now and then she turned her eyes from Pigeon, and perused the room and the company with rapid glances of amusement and keen observation. Perhaps her eyes gleamed keener, and her dark cheek owned a slight flushthat was all. Out of her mysterious lifeout of that interview, so full of violence and passionthe strange woman came, without a moments interval, to amuse herself by looking at and listening to all those homely innocent people. Could it be that she was taking notes of Pigeons speech? Suddenly, all at once, she had taken a pencil out of her pocket and began to write, glancing up now and then towards the speaker. Mr. Vincents head swam with the wonder he was contemplatingwas she flesh and blood after all, or some wonderful skeleton living a galvanic life? But when he asked himself the question, her cry of sudden anguish, her wild, wicked promise to kill the man who stole her daughter, came over his mind, and arrested his thoughts. He, dallying as he was on the verge of life, full of fantastic hopes and disappointment, could only pretend to listen to Pigeon; but the good poulterer turned gratified eyes towards Mrs. Hilyard. He recognised her real attention and interest; was it the height of voluntary sham and deception?or was she really taking notes? The mystery was solved after the meeting was over. There was some music, in the first placeanthems in which all the strength of Salem united, Tozer taking a heavy bass, while Phbe exerted herself so in the soprano that Mr. Vincents attention was forcibly called off his own meditations, in terror lest something should break in the throat so hardly strained. Then there were some oranges, another speech, a hymn, and a benediction; and then Mr. Raffles sprang joyfully up, and leaned over the platform to shake hands with his friends. This last process was trying. Mr. Vincent, who could no longer take refuge in silence, descended into the retiring throng. He was complimented on his speech, and even by some superior people, who had a mind to be fashionable, upon the delightful evening they had enjoyed. When they were all gone, there were still the Tozers, the Browns, the Pigeons, Mrs. Tufton, and Mr. Raffles. He was turning back to them disconsolate, when he was suddenly confronted by Mrs. Hilyard out of her corner with the flyleaf of the hymnbook the unscrupulous woman had been writing in, torn out in her hand. Stop a minute! she cried; I want to speak to you. I want your help, if you will give it me. Dont be surprised at what I ask. Is your mother a good womanwas it she that trained you to act to the forlorn as you did to me last night? I have been too hastyI take away your breath;never mind, there is no time to choose ones words. The butterman is looking at us, Mr. Vincent. The ladies are alarmed; they think I want spiritual consolation at this unsuitable moment. Make hasteanswer my question. Would she do an act of Christian charity to a woman in distress? My mother isyes, I know she would, what do you want of her?my mother is the best and tenderest of women, cried Vincent, in utter amazement. I want to send a child to hera persecuted, helpless child, whom it is the object of my life to keep out of evil hands, said Mrs. Hilyard, her dark thin face growing darker and more pallid, her eyes softening with tears. She will be safe at Lonsdale now, and I cannot go in my own person at present to take her anywhere. Here is a message for the telegraph, she added, holding up the paper which Vincent had supposed to be notes of Mr. Pigeons speech; take it for mesend it off tonightyou will? and write to your mother; she shall suffer no loss, and I will thank her on my knees. It is life or death. I knowI am aware! cried Vincent, not knowing what he said. There is no time to be lost. She put the paper into his hand, and clasped it tight between both of hers, not knowing in the excitement which she was so well trained to repress, that he had betrayed any special knowledge of her distress. It seemed natural, in that strain of desperation, that everybody should understand her. Come tomorrow and tell me, she said, hurriedly, and then hastened away, leaving him with the paper folded close into his hand as her hard grasp had left it. He turned away from the group which awaited his coming with some curiosity and impatience, and read the message by the light of one of the garlanded and festive lamps. Rachel Russell to Miss Smith, Lonsdale, Devonshire. Immediately on receiving this, take the child to Lonsdale, near Peterboroughto Mrs. Vincents; leave the train at some station near town, and drive to a corresponding station on the Great Northern; dont enter London. Blue veilcarenot to be left for an instant. I trust all to you. Mr. Vincent put the message in his pocketbook, took it out againtried it in his purse, his waistcoat pocket, everywhere he could think offinally, closed his hand over it as at first, and in a high state of excitement went up to the chattering group at the little platform, the only thought in his mind being how to get rid of them, that he might hasten upon his mission before the telegraph office was closed for the night. And, as was to be expected, Mr. Vincent found it no easy matter to get rid of the Tozers and Pigeons, who were all overflowing about the teaparty, its provisions, its speeches, and its success. He stood with that bit of paper clenched in his hand, and endured the jokes of his reverend brother, the remarks of Mrs. Tufton, the blushes of Phbe. He stood for half an hour at least perforce in unwilling and constrained civilityat last he became desperate;with a wild promise to return presently, he rushed out into the night. The station was about half a mile out of Carlingford, at the new end, a long way past Dr. Riders. When Vincent reached it, the telegraph clerk was putting on his hat to go away, and did not relish the momentary detention; when the message was received and despatched, the young minister drew breathhe went out of the office, wiping his hot forehead, to the railway platform, where the last train for town was just starting. As Vincent stood recovering himself and regaining his breath, the sudden flash of a match struck in one of the carriages attracted his attention. He looked, and saw by the light of the lamp inside a man stooping to light his cigar. The action brought the face, bending down close to the window, clearly out against the darkblue background of the empty carriage; hair light, fine, and thin, in long but scanty locksa highfeatured eagleface, too sharp for beauty now, but bearing all the traces of superior good looks departeda light beard, so light that it did not count for its due in the aspect of that remarkable countenancea figure full of ease and haughty grace all these particulars Vincent noted with a keen rapid inspection. In another moment the long leash of carriages had plunged into the darkness. With a strange flush of triumph he watched them disappear, and turned away with a smile on his lips. The message of warning was already tingling along the sensitive wires, and must outspeed the slow human traveller.


This face, which so stamped itself upon his memory, which he fancied he could see pictured on the air as he returned along the dark road, was the face of the man who had been Lady Westerns companion at the lecture. That it was the same face which had confronted Mrs. Hilyard in the dark graveyard behind Salem Chapel he never doubted. With a thrill of active hatred and fierce enmity which it was difficult to account for, and still more difficult for a man of his profession to excuse, the young man looked forward to the unknown future with a certainty of meeting that face again. We drop a charitable veil over the conclusion of the night. Mr. Raffles and Mr. Vincent supped at Pigeons, along with the Browns and Tozers; and Phbes testimony is on record that it was a feast of reason and a flow of soul. CHAPTER XI. THE next morning Vincent awoke with a sense of personal occupation and business, which perhaps is only possible to a man engaged with the actual occurrences of individual life. Professional duties and the general necessities of existing, do not give that thrill of sensible importance and use which a man feels who is busy with affairs which concern his own or other peoples very heart and being. The young Nonconformist was no longer the sentimentalist who had made the gaping assembly at Salem Chapel uneasy over their teadrinking. That dark and secret ocean of life which he had apostrophised, opened up to him immediately thereafter one of its most mysterious scenes. This had shaken Vincent rudely out of his own youthful vagaries. Perhaps the most true of philosophers, contemplating, however profoundly, the secrets of nature or thought, would come to a sudden standstill over a visible abyss of human guilt, wretchedness, heroic selfrestraint, and courage, yawning apparent in the meditative way. What, then, were the poor dialectics of Church and State controversy, or the fluctuations of an uncertain young mind feeling itself superior to its work, to such a spectacle of passionate life, full of evil and of noble qualitiesof guilt and suffering more intense than anything philosophy dreams of? The thin veil which youthful ignorance, believing in the supremacy of thought and superior charm of intellectual concerns, lays over the world, shrivelled up under the fiery lurid light of that passionate scene. Two people clearly, who had once loved each other, hating each other to the death, struggling desperately over a lesser thread of life proceeding from them boththe mother, driven to the lowest extremities of existence, standing up like a wild creature to defend her offspringwhat could philosophy say to such phenomena? A wild circle of passion sprang into conscious being under the young mans halffrightened eyeswild figures that filled the world, leaving small space for the calm suggestions of thought, and even to truth itself so little vantageground. Love, Hatred, Anger, Jealousy, Revengehow many more? Vincent, who was no longer the lofty reasoning Vincent of Homerton, found life look different under the light of those torchbearers. But he had no leisure on this particular morning to survey the subject. He had to carry his report and explanation to the strange woman who had so seized upon and involved him in her concerns. Mrs. Hilyard was seated in her room, just as he had seen her before, working with flying needle and nervous fingers at her coarsest needlework. She said, Come in, and did not rise when he entered. She gave him an eager, inquiring look, more importunate and commanding than any words, but never stopped working, moving her thin fingers as if there was some spell in the continuance of her labour. She was impatient of his silence before he had closed the doordesperate when he said the usual greeting. She opened her pale lips and spoke, but Vincent heard nothing. She was beyond speech. The message went off last night, and I wrote to my mother, said Vincent; dont fear. She will do what you wish, and everything will be well. It was some time before Mrs. Hilyard quite conquered her agitation; when she succeeded, she spoke so entirely in her usual tone that Vincent started, being inexperienced in such changes. He contemplated her with tragic eyes in her living martyrdom; she, on the contrary, more conscious of her own powers, her own strength of resistance and activity of life, than of any sacrifice, had nothing about her the least tragical, and spoke according to nature. Instead of any passionate burst of selfrevelation, this is what she said Thank you. I am very much obliged to you. How everything is to be well, does not appear to me; but I will take your word for it. I hope I may take your word for your mother also, Mr. Vincent. You have a right to know how this is. Do you claim it, and must I tell you now? Here for the first time Vincent recollected in what an unjustifiable way he had obtained his information. Strangely enough, it had never struck him before. He had felt himself somehow identified with the woman in the strange interview he had overheard. The man was a personal enemy. His interest in the matter was so honest and simple amid all the complication of his youthful superficial insincerities, that this equivocal action was one of the very few which Vincent had actually never questioned even to himself. He was confounded now when he saw how the matter stood. His face became suddenly crimson;shame took possession of his soul. Good heavens, I have done the most dishonourable action! cried Vincent, betrayed into sudden exclamation by the horror of the discovery. Then he paused, turning an alarmed look upon his new friend. She took it very calmly. She glanced up at him with a comic glance in her eyes, and a twitch at the corners of her mouth. Notwithstanding last nightnotwithstanding the anxiety which she dared not move in her own person to alleviateshe was still capable of being amused. Her eyes said, What now? with no very alarming apprehensions. The situation was a frightful one for poor Vincent. You will be quite justified in turning me out of your house, he said, clearing his throat, and in great confusion; but if you will believe it, I never till this moment saw how atrocious Mrs. Hilyard, I was in the vestry; the window was open; I heard your conversation last night. For a moment Vincent had all the punishment he expected, and greater. Her eyes blazed upon him out of that pale dark face with a certain contempt and lofty indifference. There was a pause. Mr. Vincent crushed his best hat in his hands, and sat speechless doing penance. He was dismayed with the discovery of his own meanness. Nobody could deliver such a cutting sentence as he was pronouncing on himself. All the world might have listened, so far as I am concerned, she said, after a while, quietly enough. I am sorry you did it; but the discovery is worse for yourself than for me. Then, after another pause, I dont mean to quarrel. I am glad for my own sake, though sorry for yours. Now you know better than I can tell you. There were some pleasant flowers of speech to be gathered in that dark garden, she continued, with another odd upward gleam of her eyes. We must have startled your clerical ideas rather. At the moment, however, Mr. Vincent, people like Colonel Mildmay and myself mean what we say. If I had gained my knowledge in a legitimate way, said the shamestricken minister, not venturing to look her in the face, I should have said that I hoped it was only for the moment. Mrs. Hilyard laid down her work, and looked across at him with undisguised amusement. I am sorry there is nobody here to perceive this beautiful situation, she said. Who would not have their ghostly father commit himself, if he repented after this fashion? Thank you, Mr. Vincent, for what you dont say. And now we shall drop the subject, dont you think? Were the deacons all charmed with the teameeting last night? You want me to go now, said Vincent, rising, with disconcerted looks. Not because I am angry. I am not angry, she said, rising and holding out her hand to him. It was a pity, but it was an inadvertence, and no dishonourable action. Yes, go. I am best to be avoided till I hear how this journey has been managed, and what your mother says. It was a sudden thought, that sending them to Lonsdale. I know that, even if he has not already found the right one, he will search all the others now. And your Lonsdale has been examined and exhausted; all is safe there. Yes, go. I am glad you know; but dont say anything to Alice, if you see her, as she is sure to seek you out. You know who I mean by Alice? Lady Westernyes. Goodbye. I trust you, notwithstanding the vestry window; but close it after this on January nights. She had sunk into her seat again, and was absorbed in her needlework, before Vincent left the room. He looked back upon her before he shut the door, but she had no look to spare from that allengrossing work; her thin fingers were more scarred than ever, and stained with the coarse blue stuff. All his life after the young man never saw that colour without thinking of the stains on those poor hands. He went about his work assiduously all that day, visiting sick people, poor people, men and women, which were sinners. That dark ocean of life with which he had frightened the Salem people last night, Mr. Vincent made deeper investigations into this day than he had made before during all the time he had been in Carlingford. He kept clear of the smug comfort of the leading people of the connection. Absolute want, suffering, and sorrow, were comparatively new to him; and being as yet a stranger to philanthropic schemes, and not at all scientific in the distribution of his sympathies, the minister of Salem conducted himself in a way which would have called forth the profoundest contempt and pity of the curate of St. Roques. He believed everybodys story, and emptied his purse with the wildest liberality; for, indeed, visitation of the poor had not been a branch of study at Homerton. Tired and all but penniless, he did not turn his steps homeward till the wintry afternoon was sinking into night, and the lamps began to be lighted about the cheerful streets. As he came into George Street he saw Lady Westerns carriage waiting at the door of Masterss. Alice! that was the name they called her. He looked at the celestial chariot wistfully. He had nothing to do with it or its beautiful mistressnever, as anything but a stranger, worshipping afar off, could the Dissenting minister of Carlingford approach that lovely visionnever think of her but as of a planet, ineffably distantnever My ladys compliments, said a tall voice on a level with Vincents eyebrows will you please to step over and speak to her ladyship? The startled Nonconformist raised his eyes. The big footman, whose happy privilege it was to wait upon that lady of his dreams, stood respectful by his side, and from the carriage opposite the fairest face in the world was beaming, the prettiest of hands waving to him. Vincent believed afterwards that he crossed the entire breadth of George Street in a single stride. I am so glad to see you, Mr. Vincent, said Lady Western, giving him her hand; I did so want to see you after the other night. Oh, how could you be so clever and wickedso wicked to your friends! Indeed, I shall never be pleased till you recant, and confess how wrong you were. I must tell you why I went that night. I could not tell what on earth to do with my brother, and I took him to amuse him; or else, you know, I never could have gone to hear the poor dear old Church attacked. And how violent you were too! Indeed I must not say how clever I thought it, or I should feel I was an enemy to the Church. Now I want you to dine with me, and I shall have somebody to come who will be a match for you. I am very fond of clever society, though there is so little of it in Carlingford. Tell me, will you come tomorrow? I am disengaged. Oh, pray, do! and Mr. Wentworth shall come too, and you shall fight. Lady Western clapped her pretty hands together with the greatest animation. As for Vincent, all the superior thoughts in which he would probably have indulgedthe contrast he would have drawn between the desperate brother and this butterfly creature, fluttering on the edge of mysteries so dark and evil, had she been anybody elsedeserted him totally in the present crisis. She was not anybody elseshe was herself. The words that fell from those sweetest lips were of a halfdivine simplicity to the bewildered young man. He would have gone off straightway to the end of the world if she had chosen to command him. All unwarned by his previous failure, paradise opened again to his delighted eyes. And I want to consult you about our friend, said Lady Western; it will be so kind of you to come. I am so pleased you have no engagement. I am sure you thought us very stupid last time; and I am stupid, I confess, added the beauty, turning those sweet eyes, which were more eloquent than genius, upon the slave who was reconquered by a glance; but I like clever people dearly. Goodbye till tomorrow. I shall quite reckon upon tomorrow. Oh, there is Mr. Wentworth! John, call Mr. Wentworth to speak to me. Good morningremember, halfpast sixnow, you must not forget. Spite of the fact that Mr. Wentworth took his place immediately by the side of the carriage, Vincent passed on, a changed man. Forget! He smiled to himself at the possibility, and as he walked on to his lodging, a wonderful maze of expectation fell upon the young mans mind. Why, he asked, was he brought into this strange connection with Her relations and their story? what could be, he said to himself with a little awe, the purpose of that Providence which shapes mens ends, in interweaving his life with Hers by these links of common interest? The skies throbbed with wonder and miracle as soon as they were lighted up by her smile. Who could predict what might be coming, through all the impossibilities of fact and circumstance? He would not dissipate that delicious haze by any definite expectations like those which brought him to sudden grief on a former occasion. He was content to believe it was not for nothing that all these strange circles of fate were weaving round his charmed feet. In this elevated frame of mind, scarcely aware of the prosaic ground he trod, Vincent reached home. The little maid at the door said something about a lady, to which he paid no attention, being occupied with his own thoughts. With an unconscious illumination on his face he mounted the stair lightly, three steps at a time, to his own rooms. The lamp was lighted in his little sittingroom, and some one rose nervously from the table as he went in at the door. What was this sudden terror which fell upon the young man in the renewed glory of his youthful hopes? It was his mother, pale and faint, with sleepless tearful eyes, who, with the cry of an aching heart, worn out by fatigue and suspense, came forward, holding out anxious hands to him, and dropped in an utter abandon of weariness and distress into his astonished arms. CHAPTER XII. WHAT has happened? For heavens sake tell me, mother, cried Vincent, as she sank back, wiping her eyes, and altogether overpowered, half with the trouble which he did not know, half with the joy of seeing him againsay it out at once, and dont keep me in this dreadful suspense. Susan? She is not married? What is wrong? Oh, my dear boy! said Mrs. Vincent, recovering herself, but still trembling in her agitationoh, my affectionate boy, always thinking of us in his good heart! No, dear. Itsits nothing particular happened. Let me compose myself a little, Arthur, and take breath. But, Susan? cried the excited young man. Susan, poor dear!she is very well; andand very happy up to this moment, my darling boy, said Mrs. Vincent, though whether she ought to be happy under the circumstancesor whether its only a cruel trickor whether I havent been foolish and precipitatebut, my dear, what could I do but come to you, Arthur? I could not have kept it from her if I had stayed an hour longer at home. And to put such a dreadful suspicion into her head, when it might be all a falsehood, would have only been killing her; and, my dear boy, now I see your face again, Im not so frightenedand surely it can be cleared up, and all will be well. Vincent, whose anxiety conquered his impatience, even while exciting it, kneeled down by his mothers side and took her hands, which still trembled, into his own. Mother, think that I am very anxious; that I dont know what you are referring to; and that the sudden sight of you has filled me with all sort of terrorsfor I know you would not lightly take such a journey all by yourself, said the young man, growing still more anxious as he thought of itand try to collect your thoughts and tell me what is wrong. His mother drew one of her hands out of his, laid it on his head, and fondly smoothed back his hair. My dear good son! you were always so sensibleI wish you had never left us, she said, with a little groan; and indeed it was a great thought to undertake such a journey; and since I came here, Arthur, I have felt so flurried and strange, that I have not, as you see, even taken off my bonnet; but I think now youve come, dear, if you would ring the bell and order up the tea? When I see you, and see you looking so well, Arthur, it seems as if things could never be so bad, you know. My dear, she said at last, with a little quiver in her voice, stopping and looking at him with a kind of nervous alarm, it was about Mr. Fordham, you may be sure. Tea directly, said Vincent to the little maid, who appeared just at this crisis, and who was in her turn alarmed by the brief and peremptory order. What about Mr. Fordham? he said, helping his mother to take off the cloak and warm wraps in which she had been sitting, in her nervous tremor and agitation, while she waited his return. Oh, my dear, my dear, cried poor Mrs. Vincent, wringing her hands, if he should not turn out as he ought, how can I ever forgive myself? I had a kind of warning in my mind the first time he came to the house, and I have always dreamt such uncomfortable dreams of him, Arthur. Oh! if you only could have seen him, my dear boy! But he was such a gentleman, and had such ways. I am sure he must have mixed in the very highest societyand he seemed so to appreciate Susannot only to be in love with her, you know, my dear, as any young man might, but to really appreciate my sweet girl. Oh, Arthur, Arthur, if he should turn out badly, it will kill me, for my Susan will break her heart. Mother, you drive me frantic. What has he done? cried poor Vincent. He has done nothing, my dear, that I know of. It is not him, Arthur, for he has been gone for a month, arranging his affairs, you know, before the wedding, and writes Susan regularly and beautiful letters. It is a dreadful scrawl I got last night. I have it in my pocketbook. It came by the last post when Susan was out, thank heaven. Ill show it you presently, my dear, as soon as I can find it, but I have so many papers in my pocketbook. She saw directly when she came in that something had happened, and oh, Arthur, it was so hard to keep it from her. I dont know when I have kept anything from her before. I cant tell how we got through the night. But this morning I made up the most artful story I couldhere is the dreadful letter, my dear, at lastabout being determined to see you, and making sure that you were taking care of yourself; for she knew as well as I did how negligent you always are about wet feet. Are you sure your feet are dry now, Arthur? Yes, my dear boy, it makes me very uncomfortable. You dont wonder to see your poor mother here, now, after that? The letter which Vincent got meanwhile, and anxiously read, was as followsthe handwriting very mean, with a little tremor in it, which seemed to infer that the writer was an old man Madam,Though I am but a poor man, I cant abear to see wrong going on, and do nothink to stop it. Madam, I beg of you to excuse me, as am unknown to you, and as cant sign my honest name to it like a man. This is the only way as I can give you a word of warning. Dont let the young lady marry him as shes agoing to, not if her heart should break first. Dont have nothink to do with Mr. Fordham. Thats not his right name, and he has got a wife livingand this I say is true, as sure as I have to answer at the judgment;and I say to you as a friend, Stop it, stop it! Dont let it go on a step, if you vally the young ladys charackter and her life. I dont add no more, because thats all I dare say, being only a servant; but I hope its enough to save the poor young lady out of his clutches, as is a man that goeth about seeking whom he may devour.From a wellwisher, though A Stranger. Mrs. Vincents mind was easier when this epistle was out of her hands. She stood up before the mirror to take off her bonnet, and put her cap tidy; she glided across the room to take up the shawl and cloak which her son had flung upon the little sofa anyhow, and to fold them and lay them together on a chair. Then the trim little figure approached the table, on which stood a dimly burning lamp, which smoked as lamps will when they have it all their own way. Mrs. Vincent turned down the light a little, and then proceeded to remove the globe and chimney by way of seeing what was wrongbringing her own anxious patient face, still retaining many traces of the sweet comeliness which had almost reached the length of beauty in her daughter, into the full illumination of the smoky blaze. Notwithstanding the smoke, the presence of that little woman made the strangest difference in the room. She took note of various evidences of litter and untidiness with her minds eye as she examined the lamp. She had drawn a long breath of relief when she put the letter into Arthurs hand. The sense of lightened responsibility seemed almost to relieve her anxiety as well. She held the chimney of the lamp in her hand, when an exclamation from her son called her back to the consideration of that grievous question. She turned to him with a sudden deepening of all the lines in her face. Oh, Arthur dear! dont you think it may be an enemy? dont you think it looks like some cruel trick? You dont believe its true? Mother, have you an enemy in the world? cried Vincent, with an almost bitter affectionateness. Is there anybody living that would take pleasure in wounding you? No, dear; but Mr. Fordham might have one, said the widow. He is not like you or your dear father, Arthur. He looks as if he might have been in the army, and had seen a great deal of life. That is what has been a great consolation to me. A man like that, you know, dear, is sure to have enemies; so very different from our quiet way of life, said Mrs. Vincent, holding up the chimney of the lamp, and standing a little higher than her natural five feet, with a simple consciousness of that grandeur of experience some one that wished him ill might have got some one else to write the letter. Hush, Arthur, here is the maid with the tea. The maid with the tea pushed in, bearing her tray into a scene which looked very strange to her awakened curiosity. The minister stood before the fire with the letter in his hand, narrowly examining it, seal, postmark, handwriting, even paper. He did not look like the same man who had come upstairs three steps at a time, in the glow and exhilaration of hope, scarcely half an hour ago. His teeth were set, and his face pale. On the table the smoky lamp blazed into the dim air, unregulated by the chimney, which Mrs. Vincent was nervously rubbing with her handkerchief before she put it on. The little maid, with her round eyes, set down the tray upon the table with an answering thrill of excitement and curiosity. There was somethink to do with the minister and his unexpected visitor. Vincent himself took no notice of the girl; but his mother, with feminine instinct, proceeded to disarm this possible observer. Mrs. Vincent knew well, by long experience, that when the landlady happens to be one of the flock, it is as well that the pastor should keep the little shocks and crises of his existence studiously to himself. Does it always smoke? said the gentle Jesuit, addressing the little maid. The effect of so sudden and discomposing a question, at a moment when the person addressed was staring with all her soul at the minister, openmouthed and openeyed, may be better imagined than described. The girl gave a start and stifled exclamation, and made all the cups rattle on the tray as she set it down. Did what smoke?the chimney, or the minister, or the landladys husband downstairs? Does it always smoke? repeated Mrs. Vincent, calmly, putting on the chimney. I dont think it would if you were very exact in putting this on. Look here always at this height, dont you see? and now it burns perfectly well. Yes, maam; Ill tell missis, maam, said the girl, backing out, with some alarm. Mrs. Vincent sat down at the table with all the satisfaction of success and conscious virtue. Her son, for his part, flung himself into the easychair which she had given up, and stared at her with an impatience and wonder which he could not restrain. To think you should talk about the lamp at such a time, or notice it at all, indeed, if it smoked like fifty chimneys! he exclaimed, with a tone of annoyance; why, mother, this is life or death. Yes, yes, my dear! said the mother, a little mortified in her turn but it does not do to let strangers see when you are in trouble. Oh, Arthur, my own boy, you must not get into any difficulty here. I know what gossip is in a congregation; you never would bear half of what your poor dear papa did, said the widow, with tears in her eyes, laying her soft old fingers upon the young mans impatient hand. You have more of my quick temper, Arthur; and whatever you do, dear, you must not expose yourself to be talked of. You are all we have in the world. You must be your sisters protector; for oh, if this should be true, what a poor protector her mother has been! And, dear boy, tell me, what are we to do? Had he any friends? asked Vincent, half sullenly; for he did feel an instinctive desire to blame somebody, and nobody seemed so blamable as the mother, who had admitted a doubtful person into her house. Did he know anybodyin Lonsdale, or anywhere? Did he never speak of his friends? He had been living abroad, said Mrs. Vincent, slowly. He talked of gentlemen sometimes, at Baden, and Homburg, and such places. I am afraid you would think it very silly, andand perhaps wrong, Arthur; but he seemed to know so much of the worldso different from our quiet way of lifethat being so nice and good and refined himself with it allI am afraid it was rather an attraction to Susan. It was so different to what she was used with, my dear. We used to think a man who had seen so much, and known so many temptations, and kept his nice simple tastes through it alloh, dear, dear! If it is true, I was never so deceived in all my life. But you have not told me, said Arthur, morosely, if he had any friends? Nobody in Lonsdale, said Mrs. Vincent. He came to see some young relative at school in the neighbourhood At this point Mrs. Vincent broke off with a half scream, interrupted by a violent start and exclamation from her son, who jumped off his seat, and began to pace up and down the room in an agitation which she could not comprehend. This start entirely overpowered his mother. Her overwrought nerves and feelings relieved themselves in tears. She got up, trembling, approached the young man, put her hand, which shook, through his arm, and implored him, crying softly all the time, to tell her what he feared, what he thought, what was the matter? Poor Vincents momentary illhumour deserted him he began to realise all the complications of the position; but he could not resist the sight of his mothers tears. He led her back gently to the easychair, poured out for her a cup of the neglected tea, and restrained himself for her sake. It was while she took this muchneeded refreshment that he unfolded to her the story of the helpless strangers whom, only the night before, he had committed to her care. The mother you shall see for yourself tomorrow. I cant tell what she is, except a lady, though in the strangest circumstances, said Vincent. She has some reasonI cannot tell whatfor keeping her child out of the fathers hands. She appealed to me to let her send it to you, because he had been at Lonsdale already, and I could not refuse. His name is Colonel Mildmay; he has been at Lonsdale; did you hear of such a man? Mrs. Vincent shook her headher face grew more and more troubled. I dont know about reasons for keeping a child from its father, she said, still shaking her head. My dear, dear boy, I hope no designing woman has got a hold upon you. Why did you start so, Arthur? what had Mr. Fordham to do with the child? Susan would open my letters, of course, and I daresay she will make them very comfortable; but, Arthur dear, though I dont blame you, it was very imprudent. Is Colonel Mildmay the ladys husband? oror what? Dear boy, you should have thought of SusanSusan, a young girl, must not be mixed up with anybody of doubtful character. It was all your good heart, I know, but it was very imprudent, to be sure. Vincent laughed, in a kind of agony of mingled distress, anxiety, and strange momentary amusement. His mother and he were both blaming each other for the same fault. Both of them had equally yielded to kind feelings, and the natural impulse of generous hearts, without any consideration of prudence. But his mistake could not be attended by any consequences a hundredth part so serious as hers. In the mean time, we must do something, he said. If he has no friends, he has at least an address, I suppose. Susanand a flush of indignation and affectionate anger crossed the young mans faceSusan, no doubt, writes to the rascal. Susan! my sister! Good heaven! Arthur! said Mrs. Vincent. Your dear papa always disapproved of such exclamations he said they were just a kind of oath, though people did not think so. And you ought not to call him a rascal without proofindeed, it is very sinful to come to such hasty judgments. Yes, I have got the address written downit is in my pocketbook. But what shall you do? Will you write to himself, Arthur? or what? To be sure, it would be best to go to him and settle it at once. Oh, mother, have a little prudence now, cried the afflicted minister; if he were base enough to propose marriage to Susan (confound him! thats not an oathmy father himself would have said as much) under such circumstances, dont you think he has the courage to tell a lie as well? I shall go up to town, and to his address tomorrow, and see what is to be found there. You must rest in the mean time. Writing is out of the question; what is to be done, I must doand without a moments loss of time. The mother took his hand again, and put her handkerchief to her eyesGod bless my dear boy, she said, with a mothers tearful admirationOh, what a thing for me, Arthur, that you are grown up and a man, and able to do what is right in such a dreadful difficulty as this! You put me in mind more and more of your dear father when you settle so clearly what is to be done. He was always ready to act when I used to be in a flutter, which was best. And, oh, how good has the Father of the fatherless been to me in giving me such a son! Ah, mother, said the young minister, you gave premature thanks before, when you thought the Father of the fatherless had brought poor Susan a happy lot. Do you say the same now? Always the same, Arthur dear, cried his mother, with tearsalways the same. If it is even so, is it me, do you think, or is it Him that knows best? After this the agitation and distress of the first meeting gradually subsided.