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By WILLIAM BLACK, autbok or "a frinoess or thulr," " uadcaf violet," "a dauobteb op hbtbt** "the stbanqb adtentubes of a phaeton," etc., IN CONJUNCTION WITH AN AMERICAN WRITER, THE LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA MONTREAL: DiCWSON BROTHERS, PUBLISffETlS. 1878. :^ I i Bfltond aoeording to Afst of Parllsment of Canada, In the y«arlS77|ligr DAWSON BROTHERS. la tb»OiBoe «f the Miniiter of Agri n ultef a. SnVKNSON GR You may bi omen - folk an had come ive among u ajor-domo o1 ho has neve eanor, and t lild, and a w iw ; and no s c says, "Oh,thepo( "That," it i trned wiadoi eath in his r character iibt condone 8he taliea nc distant and rophetess o Think of t I tor — who w MOW a brisk lors of a coil alone there world. Sh fjuide her — ' 'But why," nder — " whj h a terrible 'ommon-aen 'The getting after. How t this young ', is at the pi ival? W niich as her a vision, a ] than I am the real wo back to the will wonder ch, and griei may laugh ther meek li It I say is ti I't see us as e to bear tl 's the woma pens once— ; she was t i shone in h cely good e marries; a surely, noi » 1. GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY. You may be sure there was a stir among our omen -folk when they heard that a young an had come courting tiie Earl's daughter. We ive among us — or over us, rather — a miniature ajor-domo of a woman, a mere wisp of a thing, lio has nevertheless an awful majesty of de- eanor, and the large and innocent eyes of a lild, and a wit as nimble and elusive as a min- iw ; and no sooner is this matter mentioned than e says, " Oh, the poor child ! And she has no mother." "That," it is observed by a person who has rned wisdom, and does not talk above his leath in his own house — " that is a defect in r character which her future husband will no ubt condone." \iihe takes no heed. The large and tender eyes distant and troubled. She has become a seer, rophetess of evil things in the days to come. " Think of tha child !" she says to our gent'e itor — who was once being courted herself, but now a brisk young matron blushing with the iiors of a couple of bairns — "think of her being alone there, with scarcely a woman friend in world. She has no one to warn her, no one guide her — " But why," says our young matron, with mild iider — " why should she want warning? Is it h a terrible thing to get married ?" ;!ommon-sense does not touch the inspired. ' The getting married ? No. It is the awaken- after. How can she tell — how can she know — t this young man, if he really means to marry , is at the present moment courting her dead- it rival ? Whom has she to fear in the future niieh as her old idealized self ? He is building a vision, a phantom, no more like that poor i than I am like her; and then, when he finds the real woman after marriage, his heart will bauk to the old creation of his own fancy, and will wonder how she could have changed so ch, and grieve over his disappointment. Yes, may laugh" — this is a sudden onslaught on ther meek listener — "but every woman knows It I say is true. And is it our fault that men t see us as we are u..til it is too late? We e to bear the blame, at all events. It is al- '3 the woman. Once upon a time — and it only ipens once — she was a beautiful, angelic creat- she was tilled with noble aspirations ; wis- shone in her face ; I suppose the earth was cely good enough for her ta walk on. Then marries ; and her husband discovers, slowly surely, not his own blunder, but that his imaginary heroine has changed into an ordinary woman, who has an occasional headache like oth- er people, and must spend a good deal of her life in thinking about shops and dinners. He tries to hide his dismay; he is very polite to her; buc how can she fail to see that he is in love, not with herself at all, but with that old ideal of his own creation, and that he bitterly regrets in se- cret the destruction of his hopes ? That is no laughing matter. People talk about great trage- dies. The fierce passions are splendid because there is noise and stamping about them. But if a man stabs a woman and puts her out of the world, is she not at peace ? • And if a man puts a bullet through his head, there is an end of his trouble. But I will tell you my belief, that all the battles and wars that ever were in the world have not caused the fifteenth part of the misery and fagic suffering that have been caused by this very thing you are laughing at — those false ideals formed before marriage. You may laugh if you like." Indeed, we were not disposed to laugh. She was really in earnest. She had spoken rapidly, with something of an indigiuint thrill in her voice, and a proud and pathetic look in her dark eyes. We had, after all, a certain fondness fo." this gen- tie oratoi ; and it was difficult to resist the eager pleading of her impassioned words when, as now, her heart was full of what she was saying. Or was it the beautiful May morning, and the sunlight shining on the white hawthorn and the lilacs, and the sleepy shadow of the cedar on the lawn, and the clear singing of the larks far away in the blue, that led us to listen so placidly to the voice of the charmer? A new-comer broke the spell. A heavy-footed cob came trotting up to the veranda ; his rider, a tall young man with a brown beard, leaped down on the gravel, and called aloud in his stormy way, " Donnerwetter ! It is as warm to-day — it is as warm as July. Why do you all sit here ? Come ! Shall we make it a holiday ? Shall we drive to Guildford ?— Weybridge ?— Chertsey ?— Esher V" The two women were sneaking off by them- selves, perhaps because they wished to have a further talk about poor Lady Sylvia and her aw- ful lute ; perhaps because they were anxious, like all women, to leave holiday arrangements in oth- er L^nds, in order to have the right of subse- quently grumbling over them. " Stay !" cries one of us, who has been released from the spell. " There is another word to be said on that subject. You are not going to ride rough-shod over as, and then sneak out at the back-door before we have recover'^d from the fright. This, then, is. your contention-" that * 10 GREEN PASTURED AND PICCADILLY. vast number of women arc enduring misery be- cause their husbands have become disillusionized, and cun nut conceal the fact V And that is tho fault of tlic husbands. Tlicy construct an ideal woman, marry a real one, and live miserable ever uftur, because they can't have that ima(;inu- tive toy of their brain. Now don' I you think, if this were true — if this wretchedness were so wide-spread — it would cure itself y Have man- kind i^une on blunu ^ring for age.t, because of tlie non-urrivul of a certain awful and mysterious Surrey prophetess V Wliy haven't women form- ed a universal association fur the destructiua uf lovers' dreams ?" '• I tell you, you may laugh as you like," is the calm reply, " but what I say is true ; and every married woman will tell you it is true. Why don't women cure it ? If it comes to that, wom- en arc us foolish us men. Tho girl makes her lover a hero; she wakes up after marriage to find hira as he really is, and tho highest hope of her life falls dead." " Then we are all disappointed, and all miser- able. That is your conclusion V" "Not all, " is the answer; and there is a slight change of tone audible here, a slight smile visi- ble on her lips. " There are many whose imagi- nation never went tWe length of constructing any ideal, except that of a moor covered with grouse. There are olIieM who have educated themselves into a useful iudill'crcntism or cynicism. Unfor- tunately it is the nobler nature; that suffer most." " Well, this is a tolerably lively prospect for every girl who thinks of getting married. Pray, Frau Philosophin, have you been constructing all these liddle-stick theories out of your own head, or have you been making a special study of Syl- via Blythc y" " 1 know Lady Sylvia better than most people. She is a very earnest girl. She has ideals, con- victions, aspirations — a whole stock in trade of things that a good many girls seem to get on very well without. If that poor girl is disap- pointed in her marriage, it will kill her." " Disappointed in hor marriage !" calls out the young man, who has been standing patiently with the bridle of his cob in his hand. " Why do you think that already? No, no. It is the girl her- self — she lives in that solitary place, and imagines mere fuulish things — it is she herself has put that into your mind. Disappointed ! No, no. There is not any good reason — there is not any good sense in that. This young fellow Balfour, every one speaks well of liira; he will have a great name some day ; he is busy, a very active man. I hear of him in many places." " I wisli lie was dead !" says my Lady ; and, curiously enough, at this moment her eyes till with tears, and she turns and walks proudly away, accompanied by her faithful friend. The young man turns in amazement. " What have I done ? Am I not right ? There is nothing bad that Balfoi"* has done V" " There is plenty bad in what he means to do, if it is true he is going to eiu rv olf Lady Sylvia Blythe. But when you, Herr Lit iiti ;int, gave him that tine certihcatc of character, I suppose you did. ' know that people don't quite agree about Mr. y .gh Balfour ? I suppose you don't know that a good many folks regard him as a bullying, overbearing, and portentously serious Scotchman, a little too eager to tread on one's corns, and nol very particular as to tho means he uses for hii own advancement ? Is it very creditable, for ex ample, that he should bo merely a wurming-paii for young Ulynne in that wretched little Irisli borough y Is it decent that he should apparent ly take a pride in insulting the deputations that him— if h come to him t A membur uf Parliament is sup posed to pay sumo respect to tho pcuplo who elected him." Here the brown-visaged young man burst into a roar of luugiitci "It is splendid — it is tho best joke I havt known. They insult him ; why should he noi turn round and say to them, 'Do you go to tlu devil !' He is (piile right. I udmiie liim. Sack ernient ! — 1 would do that too." So much for a morning gossip over the affair of two ptuitio who were not much more thai strangers to us. We hud but little notion thci that we were all to become more intimately re lated, our lives be'ng fur a space intertwisted h the cunning bunds of circuinstuiice. The subjeut iiowever, did nut at all depart f rum the mind n our sovereign lady and ruler. We could wee tlia her eyes were troul)led. When it was propfisu to her that she shoidd make u party to driv somewhere or other, she begged tlnil it might Ij made up without her. We luilf suspected whitb er she meant to drive. Some hour or two utter that you might havi seen a pair of ponies, not niueli bigger thai mice, being slowly driven along a dusty lane tlm skirted a great park. The driver was a lady and she wus alone. She did not seem tJ pir much heed to the beautiful spring foliage of ti.i limes nnd elms, to tho blossoms of the ehestnutJ nor yet to the bluelx'lls and prinnoses visible oi the oilier side oi llie gray paling, where the youni rabbits were scurrying into tht; hules in the banli: There was a smart pattering uf liuofs behiiii her; and presently slu; wus uvertakenby a youiii gentleman of sunu^ fourteen years or so, who toi off his tall hat with much ceremony, and politel bade her goocl-niorning, " Good-morning, Mr. John," said she, in return " Do you know it Lady Sylvia is at hon>e y" "I should think she wa.s," said the boy, as li got down from his horse, and led it by the sid of the pony-chaise, that he might the better con tinuc the conversation. " [ should think st was. My uncle's gone to town. Look here I've been over to the 'Fox and Hounds' for bottle of Champagne. Sha'n't we have some fun You'll stay to lunch, of course V" In fact, there was a bottle wrapped round wit brown paper under his arm. " Oh, Mr. John, how could you do that y Yi know your cousin will bo very angry." " Not a bit," said he, confidently. " Old Sylli bus is a rattling good sort of girl. She'll c clare I might have had Champagne at the hall- which isn't true, for my noble uncle is an uncon monly sharp sort of chap, and I believe he takt tho key of the wine-cellar with him — and the she'll settle down to it. She's rather serious, yo know ; and would like to come the maternal ovc you ; but she has got just as good a notion of tu as most girls. You needn't be afraid about tin Old Syllabus and I are first-rate friends ; we geto "That ate." The inr brat of a of u man, uous, lam capitally together. You see, I dun't try to spoo 8he is youni her, as many a fellow would do in my place, fectly swe the tiendi would hav than he v years of 1 to know y He had a this simplt the world 'out once the place; day, he wa as if they imploring be came bi " It's an poor girl i thing of t more impc don't supi money — in uji^but 1 1 get a towu- iloesn't he down old I ably in Bru sumcthing VVIiy, she 1 got no moi (luiry-maid. tile Park s do you thin 1 think Park more innucent an "And till The wlii/ic 1 cause my i down, and farm buildi the biggest overrun wit gave him oi was grumbl my uncle, ' Biiy nothing ful shame, he keeps he "But is should man " I can te difficult evt thoughtful < men don't girl has a li Last year I could see at ers were be thought of i with a whol "Yes, thi grave answe be no hurry at the right GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. 11 'a corns, and not ho uHi-H for his reUitublf, for ex ' a wtirniing-pni' ulicd littlu Irish iliuulU Hpparcnt dupiitutiona timt iirliumcnt id sup. tlic people who I man burst into icst joke I hav y Hliuiild ho no lo you go to till iiiii'c liiiu. Hiuik- ) over the affuin luiicli uioru timi Uttli! notion tlici ire intinmtcly re u intertwiHted li] ICC. Till' rtubjeci 'rum tiie mind n kVo I'ouid sec tlia I it wiirt pioi)6g« a piirty to driv I lliiU it miglit b suspected whitli t you iniglit havi lUfli bifrger tha a ilusty huie tlia •ivi".' was a lad not sei'in tJ jm ing foliage of thi of tlic chestniiti mroscs visible o . wliiMV the youii! oles iu tlie banlii of liuofs behiii ■taltcn by a youiij ■s or so, who ton lony, and politcl id shp, in return at home y" id tlie boy, as li i it by iho sid it tlie better con liould think sli irn. Look here d Hounds' for have some fun ipped round witl do that? Yo ngry." tly." "OldSylli girl. She'll d ;ne at the hall lelc is an uncon believe he takt him — and tlie .(her serious, yo he maternal ovc il a notion of f u fraid about tha ■lends; we get o un't try to spot n my place." " That la very sensible of you — very consider- ate." The innocence of those eyes of hers ! If that brat of a school-boy, who wan assuminr; rlio airs of u mull, could have analyzed the terutr, ingen- uous, lamb-llku look which was directed toward liiin — if he could have seen through those per- fectly sweet and approving eyes, and discovered tlie fiendish laughter and sarcasm behhid — he would have learned more of the nature of women than he was likely to learn in any half dozen years of his idiotic existence. liut how was he to know t He chattered on more freely than ever. He had a tlrin conviction that he was impressing tills simple country person with his knowledge of the world and of human nature. She had been hut once to Oxford. He had never even seen the place ; but then, as he was going there some (lay, he was justified in speaking of the colleges as if they were all on their knees before him, imploring him to accept a fellowship. And then he came back to his cousin Sylvia. " It's an awful shame," said he, " to shut up the poor girl in that place. She'll never know any tiling of the world: she thinks there's nothing more important than cowslips and daisies. I don't suppose my uncle is overburdened with money — in fact, I believe he must be rather hard uj) — but I never heard of an curl yet w ho couldn't get a town-house somehow, if he wanted to. Why doesn't he get another mortgage on this tumble- duwii old estate of his, and go and live comfort- ably in Brutoii Street, and show poor old Syllabus something of what's rea'ly going ou in the world ? Why, she hasn't even been prescited. She has got no mure notion of a London season than a (liiiry-niaid. And yet I think if you took her into the Park she would hold her own there: what do you think y" ' I think you would not get many girls in the Park more beautiful than Lady Sylvia," is the innocent answer. • 'And this old place ! What's the good of it? The w'.ioic tnt;'te is going to wreck and ruin be- cause my uncle won't have the rabbits killed down, and he won't spend any money on the farm buildings. And that old bailiff, Moggs, is tlie biggest fool 1 ever saw : th» whole place is overrun witli couch-grass. I am glad my uncle gave him one for himself the other day. Moggs was grumbling about the rabbits. ' Moggs,' said my uncle, 'you let my rabbits alone, and 1 shall Buy nothing about your couch.' But it's an aw- ful shame. And he'll never get her married if he keeps her buried down here." " But is there any necessity that your cousin should marry y" " I can tell you it is becoming more and more difficult every year," said this experienced and thoughtful observer, " to get girls iniirried. The men don't seem to see it, somehow, unless the girl has a lot of money and good looks as well. Last year I believe it was something awful ; you could see at the end of the season how the moth- era were beginning to pull long faces when they thought of having to start off for Baden-Baden with a whole lot of unsalable articles on hand." " Yes, that ia a serious responsibility," is the grave answer. " But then, you know, there need be no hurry about getting your cousin married. She is young. I think if you wait you will find at the right moment the beautiful prince come riding out of tho wood to carry her off, just aa happens in the story-books." " Well, you know," said this chattering boy, with a smile, " people have begun to talk al- ready. There is that big boor of a S(^otcli fel- low — what's his name? — Balfour — has been down here a good many times lately ; and, of course, gossips jump at conclusions. But that is a little too ridiculous. I don't think you will catch old Syllabus, with all her crotchets, marrying a man in the rum and sugar line. Ur is it calico and opium ?" " But I thought he had nover had any thing to tar._ lings in their nests as their parents came and went carrying food, and the loud and joyful " tirr a-wec, tirr-a-wee, prooit, tweet !" of the thrushes, and the low eurrooing of the wood-pigeon, anii tho soft call of the cuckoo, that seemed to come in whenever on interval of silence fitted. Th( ' . swallows dipped and Hashed and circled over tlu ",") ,", "" bosom of the Jake. Thero were blackbirds ea "*^'' * " **' gerly but cautiously at work, with thoir short spas modic trippings, on the lawn. A robin, perchei on the iron railing, eyed her curiously, and seem ed more disposed to approach than to retreat. For, indeed, she carried a small basket, with which the robin was doubtless familiar; and now she opened it and began to scatter handfuls ol crumbs on the gravel. A multitude of sparrows ;'^^° struuf! hitherto invisililc, seemed to spring into life ^^ ""**-'''* Tho robin descendeil from his percli. But 8h( did not wait to see how hur bounties were shared she had work further on. Now the high-lving park and ground of Willow K"'" ! """ ' by Hall formed a dividing territory between twcffl",*? "";_' ' very different sorts of country. On tliu north away beyond the lake, lay a broad plain of culti vated ground, green and soft and fair, dottei with clusters of farm buildings and scored by tal hedge-rows. On the south, on tho other hand ' , , . ,• thero was a wilderness of sanily heath and darii "|"'*"" i " green common, now all ablazo with gorso aiu broom ; black pine woods high up at the horizon and one long, yellow, and dusty road apparcntlj leading nowliere, for there was no trace of towi or village as far as the eye could see. It was in this latter direction that Sylvia Blyth( now turned her steps ; and you will never knov anv thine about her unless vou know somethini l'"^^'"-'''- ^ of these her secret haunts and silent ways. The.'' were her world. Beyond that distant line of (ii wood on the horizon her imagination seldom carei to stray. She had been up to London, of course had staid with her father at a hotel in Arling ton Street ; had been to the opera once or twice and dined at some friends' houses. But of tli^ great, actual, struggling, and suffering world — o the ships carrying emigrants to unknown landi , beyond the cruel seas, of the hordes driven dowij" •{ R'?"" to death by disease and crime in the scpialid den of great cities, of the eager battle and flushei ""''e and b hopes and bitter disappointments of life — wha could she know ? Most girls become aenuaintei ^ *"". " C>' ■l . . ' iin A f'nii igc lere the su led wilderi lue hyaein anipion, an te to gatlii lier dres) liite and w lie hummci IS burning le new brai een, tlieir diiiary fen iree claws uite ur.coiii' lek pheasai 1st catching stalked ai )loi'e(i 1CII, I cut oi u wood where there wan a Hpacious dell. Km'c the Hunlight I'cll in broad patches on a tun A robin perched ^^''^ wiiderncsH of wild flowers — great muftscH of iouslv and seem '"" ''y"''''"''w. "'"^ white Htarwort, and crimson lan to retreat ampion, and purple ground-ivy. She utaid a nun- te to gallier a small bouquet, which she placei I her dresH ; but she did not pluck two snow- iiitu and waxen hyacinths, for she had watclied lieso strangers ever since she liad noticed that le flowers promised to be white. " HIiuuUl lie upbraid, I'll own that he'll prevail," lie humnicil carelessly tu herself, as she went on round of Willow|K«'" ; , ""•' ""«' ■*!'« «"« i" »■ sloping.glade, among iiung larciies and beeches, with witliered bracu- iis burning red in the scattered sunlight, wit', le new brackens coming up in solitary stalks of I'cen, their summits nut the tiddle-head of the idiiuiry fern, but resembling rather the incurved irce claws of a large bird. She paused for a imiliar ; and now ktter handfula ol tudo of sparrows spring into life, perch. But sIk tics were shared lory between twc On the north ad plain of culti and fair, dottei and scoreil by tal the other hand . e , . .1 • r . i- 1 ■ If heath and darll '*""^'"' ' *^'"' "'""« '•'« 1'"^'" '" '"'" "^ '"^'■. "'"^ i with fforsn nn( "'''■' ur.conscious of her presence, was a splendid )ck pheasant, the bron/cd plumage of his breast it*t catching a beam of the morning liglit. Then L> stalked across the path, followed by his sober )loreu \cn,and di.sappta""il into the ferns. Sli ent on again. A S(|uirrel ran up a great beech ee, and looked round at her from one of the with gorse am ip at the horizon ' road apparcntlj no trace of town d see. :hat Sylvia BIythf 1 will never knov lent ways. Thes iistant line of lii tion seldom caret )ndon, of course hotel in Arling ra once or twici: ises ITcring world — 3 unknown land know somethin' '«"'^^'>'-'*- ^ M ^^^} screaming through the wooii Just one brief glimpse of brilliant blue being sible. Then she came to a belt of oak paling, which was a veiy dilapidated door; and by the )or stood a basket much larger than that she id carried frotn the Hall. She took up the bas- ;t, let herself out by the small gate, and then But of till '""'' '""'**'''* '" '■''^' "P^'" sunshine before a wide ■aste of heath. This was Willowbv Heath — a vast stretch of des driven dowi "''•" K'?"'"' I'overed by dark heather mostly, It showing here and there brilliant masses of rse and broom, and here and there a srauU rch-tree not over four feet in height, but gleam- wine acquainto *? *'»'' " f^'""'""" of green over the dark com- ' Bon. A couple of miles away, on a knoll, stood windmill, its great arms motionless. Beyond at again the heath darkened ns it rose to the rizon, and ended in a black line of firs. She hummed as she went this idle song ; and mctimes she laughed, for the place seemed to alive with very young rabbits, and those inex- rienced babes showed an agony of fear as they d r'most from ander her feet, and scurried rough the dry heather to the sandy breaks, was at one of the largest of these breaks — a rt of ragged pit some six feet deep and fifty ct long — tliat she finally paused, and put down r heavy load. Her approach had been the sig- il for the magical disappearance of about fifty or «ty rabbits, the large majority being the merest ites of things. Now began a strange incantation scene. She t down in the perfect stillness ; there was not en a rustle of her dress. There was no wind irring ; the white clouds in the pale blue over- the s(|ualid den ittle and ttushe Its of life — wha !Coine acquaiiite( little picturesqiK pity and tender and tracts, mentation of tin low ledge of a bi d been denied t( ring that she con ition of the kind "I won't hav ver or somcthiii] ople of our owi vay ; if there arc As for sick chil sewhere, you cai lenty who can- )rget that. Am th or Dr. Grey al lese hovels, I cai T friends and d( bead hung motionless; the only sound «udiblo was the calling of a peewit far away over tho heath. She \Nalted patiently in this deep silence. All round and underneath this broken bank, in a transparent shadow, were a number of dark holes of various sizes. These were the apertures for the gnomes to appear from the bowels of tliu earth, And as she waited, behold ! one of those small (uveriis became tenanted. A tiny head suddenly ai)pcared, and two black eyes regarded her with a sort of blank, dumli curiosity, without fear. She did not move. Tho brown small creature came out further; ho sat ron/u 8hoeN and tht> foot of litT drt'HN wuru ull duatud over witli ii ^'old powder. Hut tliix wtt!* not to !)(> an ordinary dny. Fir<>t of ull hIic wum umitly tirn'Mt'd by tlio niVfiteriou:* •disappcuranft' of Jolinuy Ulyllii', who, hIic wiim afruiil, would misH hi^ train in (he ufternoon; tiicn alio v/ixa delighted hy hlrt appouruneo in com- pany with n visitor, wlio wuh easily perHuaded to Btay to linich; then tliere wan a pretty (puirrel over the production of that bottle of publie-liouHe Chnnipa^ne — at wliieli tho ^irl turned, with a lit- tle flush in her cheek, to lier visitor, whom shf begjji'd to forj;ive till.'* piece of Hchool-hoyish fol- ly. Then Mr. ilohn wii« bundled tdf in fhe wag- onette to the station ; and slie and lier visitor were left aloiu'. What had Madame Mephistopheles to do with this innocent ^irl V "Oh, Lady Sylvia," she said, "how delij^htful- ly quiet you are here! Each time I come, the etillne.isi of the Hall and tlie jiark strikes me more and more. It is a place to dream one's lilc away in — ainoiif; the trees on the tine day-i, in the library on the bad ones, I suppose you don't wish ever to leave Willowby V" "X — no," said the nirl, with a faint touch of color in her face. And then jlie added, " Hut don't you tliink that one 0M;.iit to try to iinder- Btand what is (foin^ on o'ltsidt^ one's immediate circle? One must bccoi;,L'so ijfiiorant, you know. I have been reading tlio leading articles in the Time.t latelv." "Oh, indeed!" •« " Yes ; but they only show me how very if!;no- rant I must be, for I can scarcely lind one that 1 can understand. And 1 have been greatly di.sap- pointed, too, with another thing. Have you seen this book ?" She went and fetched from an adjoining table a volume, which she placed in her visitor's hands. It was entitled The Heus of the Day on I'olity. " There was a friend of papa's hern one even- ing," said Lady Sylvia, demurely, " and we were talking about the greatly different opinions in politics that people lield, and I asked him how an ignorant person like myself was to decide which to believe. Then he said, 'Oh, if you want to see all the pros and eons of the great political '^uestion8 ranged opposite each other, take some, such book as Uuxton's Iilecwo/the Day; then you can compare them, and take which one strikes you as being most reasonable.' Well, I sent for the book; but look at it! It is all general prin- ciples. It docs not tell mc any thing. I am sure no one could have read more carefully than I did the articles in the Times on the Irish Universi- ties Bill. I have followed every thing that has been said, and I am quite convinced by the argu- ment ; but I can't make out what the real thing is behind. And then I go to the book that was rec- ommended to me. Look at it, my dear Mrs. . All you can get is n series of propositions about national education. How does that iielp you to understand the Irish Universities ?" Her visitor laughed and ptit down the book. Then she placed her hand within the girl's arm, and they went out for a stroll in the park, thrrugh the long warm grass and golden buttercups and blue speedwells. " Why should you take such a new interest in politics, Lady Sylria ?" said Madame McphistopI eles, lightly." " I want to take nn interest in what concern so many of my fellow-creatures," saiii the gir simply. "Is not that natural y And if I were rpot; wh nutn," she added, with Home heightened color, " should care for iu>tliing but politics. Think n can pass their lives in pain ing pretty pictures and writing pretty verses, whe there is all that real work to be done — millions their fellow-creatures growing up in ignorance an misery — the poor bec(uniiig poorer every diiy, uiit no one knows where the wreiehedness is ti^'cease These were hue notions to have got into ti head of an ingeiuious eoimtry maiden; and pc haps that retiection occurred to herself loo, fi she suddenly stopped, and her face was red. Hi her kiml friend took no notice of this retirin It there w e small Ij prevent ten FrencI uttered al isteiice ill es, slippei ere Hnishc I the table " You wi ,"and ha " Yes, Sii ted, 'Ht n below tie e.\citei " Very w Take my rs you hai il'.i rose I to thin lili nv one Ilia iiiiisei'oi lit he WHS modesty. On the contiitry, she warin'y approve id niiieli i of her companioirs ways of thinking. Knglaii lee. The was proud of her statesmen. The gratitude u d not at a millions was the rcwanf of liii:' who devised wi; statutes. What nobler vocation in life could the be fn Fronoli wiiulow.s I'lili on liiu worn iinil fadud Anil if 1 wcro inlit«'nc(i color, " |M)litic!4. Think < f I ho power on ortii living for, thii itc I'oj — to l)c ahl of tliu world, an 'h country rcspcr nil Unow, I cull nu tiii'ir lives in pain pretty vcrscH, who i> iloui' — inillionx i ill i);noniiii't>uii )n'rcvcry liny, lint cilncsH is tif'cca.sc. Iiiivc ff>t into til iiiiiidcii; and pt to lii>rsi>lf too, fii fiu'c wiis red, ii cc of tiiis rctiiiii URKEN I'AHTUHES AND IMCCADILLY. 15 I' wiiriii'y iipprovi' liinliin^, Knglai Till' >;iiilitiiiio ;> wlio ili'virtcd wi: s clii'ci* iMid ciiiii , mid llif s'iii;.'jiy diMl< Inown I'lii'ows pivc simdmv mul iiiii'iisity to tlio iivwd iiiiil iiii'ri'iii;.' jiiny cyi'S. Il «iiH u fiicu lilt (iiivc fvidi'iii'c of lii'cii ii'sitlvc, of iviidy ac- iii, of pci'sisiriu'c. And iilllioii;;li yoiin<; liul- iiir liiid till- piitiiMit and steady drtui'iiiiiiation of n inlil'i'coiild the (tpv exalt.-,! to tl le !<'iiiii' lime — a Miiiii)? K'i'l <)"> I'lv patriots. Sum oils coniK'Cted wil ' t;i'o!it piililic Her '. iiis liirtlirip;lit, iiiid aiiiiiiii;;li evm that hud )poiiiteil on disco eai'tlily alloy in li phistoplielcs, tlic mti onr iiiia<{iiiuti< 00 far. Yonnn pc 1 liiit little practio inn iiutiii'c wuH on now, for exiiinpr pet; while this half sliiily, half parlor, hud uttered ulioiit ill il uii tlic si|;iis of a liui'lielor'.s istt'iico ill till! sliiipe of wooden pipes, tiiiie-ta- e.a, slipper!), and ilie like, Wlieii tliu letters I'i'e hnislicd the writer struck a bell bcforu liiiii the liilde. ^ ills sei'vunt iippeared, "You will piwi tlioho letters, Jackson," said ,"unil have u liunsoin rcudy for iiic ut li.lO." " Yes, Sir," suid the nuin ; and tlicn he liesl- teil. 'He); your pardon, Sir. Iiiit tlie gentle- en licUiw are rullier iiiiputieiit. Sir — they uro u lie excited. Sir." " Very well," said the youn^ man, carelessly. Tuko iiiy hiin down. Sluy, here uro some pu- is you hud lii'lti'i' put in." Iji.i rose and wi'iit lo net the papers — one or o thill liliii'-liiiiiks and siiiiii' drafted liills — and iw one iiiiiy p't ii lietter lonU iit llic .Meiiiher for uHiiiiisri'iMHi. Ill' was nut over live I'eel ri>;lil; It he was a Ihiiiv, liriii-fi'iiiiii'd yoiin^ man, wlio III iiiiieli inori' I'hiinu'ter tliiii pii/ttiness in his ice. Tile I'losi'ly croppi'd lieuid and whiskers lilt at all eoiiri'iil the lines iif streii);tli alioiit ' Sniteh — or, let ii> say, nf tlii! Saxmi — ha |)art en overlaid liy lie reticence of inaniUT iind tliu iitleiiess — the almost hesitating gentleness — of leccli of an Oxford don, any one could see that leru wa8 something; Celtic- looking about the ray eyea and the heavy cyebiows, and cveiy one ho knew- Kall'oiir knew that sometimes a Hash vehement eiitlnisiasni, or anger, or i=ciiin, would isiipiiointcd Itccuii^euk through that siiuvity of manner which some iisidered to be just a trifle tno Hiipercilions. (hi tliit) oceusion Hugh Uuli'our, having inailo liont niurriuge; ii I the prcparuliiiiis for his departure wiiicli he persons were gric insidered to lie necessury, went down Rtuirs to uiise they hud l»ei le large room on the ground-door. There was foie marriage y noise of voices in that apartment. As he en- ry without ttlisolii ircd, these angry sounds ceased; ho bowed idcnce ?" demand iglitly, went up to the head of the room, and with her eyes ca|iiil, " Oentl.'ini'ii, will you he sented V" "SoiT," suid a smull nuiii, witii a large chwit, a c to interpose a liite wai.stcoiit, and a face pink w itli anger or hiskey, or both — "Sorr, 'tis twenty-three min- tcs by my watch ye have kept us waiting — " " I know," .said the young man, calmly ; " I am Dry sorry. Will yon be good enough to proceed I business, gentlemen V" Thus admonished, the spokesman of the eight I' ten persons in the room uiidns, ed liiin.-elf to le speech wliieli he had obviously prepared. ut how could lie, in the idyllic seclusion of the uck parlor of a llallinascroon public-house, have nticipateil and prepared for the interruptions tiling from a young man who, whether at the xford Union or at St. Stephen's, had acipiired a retty fair reputation for saying about the most ritating and contemptuous things that could vex le soul of an opponent ? "Sorr," said the orator, swelling out his white le away, and let t is all a mistake— it teurs and with lut a year, a mont autitiil faith in In iiuy soon enough [II. I.INASCROON. mall house in Plci venty or so was bii le room should ha woman might hn wing-room uidced waistcoat, " the gentlemen" (he said giutlemcn, hut never mind) — " the gentlemen who arc with me this day are a deputation, a deputation, Sorr of the electors of the borough oi H.illinuscioon, which you have the honor, .Sorr, lo represent in I'urliamcnl. We held a incctiiig, Sorr, as yoii know. You were invited to attend that meeting. Yon refiisi'd to attend that iiiei'liiig — although it wus culled to consider your eoiidiiet us the re|)re- scntutive of the Imroiigli of Ualliiiusi'iooii." I Mr. Hulfoiir nodded; this young man did not seem to be iiiueli iiiipiesscd by ilie desperate iia> I tiirc of the situation. ' " .Villi now, Sorr," continued the orator, group- ing his eoiiipiiiiioiis together with a wine of his hand, " we have come as a de|iutution .o lay bo- 1 fore you certain farts nliiili your .inistitiieiits, Sorr, hope will induce mhi to In'-e tliit eoiirse— the only emiise, I may say — that 'iii hoiioiubltt man could fuilnw." [ " Very well." "Sorr, you are aware that yon succeeded the llonoruble Oliver ' about any thing or any body. " Sorr," said the pink-faced orator, with a d gpairing hesitation in his voice, "after the laii guage — after the language, Sorr, wiiich we hav just heard, my friends and myself have but oni course to piu'sue. I am astonished — I am ai tounded, Sorr — that, holding such opinions of tin borough of Ballinascroon as those you have no expressed, you should continue to represent tha borough in Parliament "I beg your pardon," said Balfour, with hi ordinary coolness, and taking out his watch, "i I must interrupt you again. I have but thrc minutes left. Is there any thing definite tha you wish to say to me?" Once more there was a murmuring chorus ( iptions wit " Resign ! resign !" lave knowi I don't at all mean to resign," said Balfou ter after it, or a doi •se from tl live?" calmly "Sorr, it is inconceivable," began the spokei man of the iiarty, "that a gentleman should s in Parliament to represent a constituency of whic he has such opinions as tll0i^e that have falk from you this day." " I beg your pardon ; it is not at all incoucci able; it is the fact. What is more, I mean t represent 3'our precious borough until the end c the present Parliament. You will be glad hear that that end may be somewhat nearer thn many people imagine; and again the bother come ' a penny- from your side of the water. Since the goveri neas out o ment were beaten on their Irish Universities Bi they have been in a bad way ; there is no doul: of it. Some folks s.ay there will be a dissolutio in the autumn. So, you see, there is no sayin how soon you may get rid of me. will you return Mr. Glynne ?" Again there was a murmur, but scarcely an ii telligible one. " I thought not. I fancied your gratitude fo •'^e, I belk the £11,000 would not last as' long. Well, yo must try to find a Home Rule candidate who wi keep the town drunk for three months at stretch. Meantime, gentlemen, I am afraid must bid you good-morning." He rang the bell. "Cab there, Jackson?" "Yes, Sir." " Good-morning, gentlemen." With that the deputation from Ballinnscroo were left to take their departure at their ow i'* whirled convenience, their representative in Parliameii "i; althou driving off in a hansom to Paddington Station He had scarcely driven away from the doo when his thoughts were occupied by much mor important affairs. He was a busy man. Th deputation could lie by as a joke Arrived at the station, Balfour jumped oul ^;>,*'J|1 ^^1 bag in hand, and gave the cabman cighteer pence. " What's this. Sir?" the man called out, affcc as it c\m ing to stare at the two coins. ■} to see ."i uld act ai lich Balfou " Don't be walked of e had a < ing taken m to get I old collegi 'Balfour,' ember th imbridge, tl ' And you ( )3 or other "Well, he rs are at at to do. her. I w 'Oh," said hke the n( 'Three, Mi ' Take you 3o these t e went ba t his wife c ' Did you ( !s of these Balfour— id is dyiuj stories I r or two. ftnc on the In that caa ^i'lg polif" 'sts have sherry, wh hasn't a i I down in thirty thoi )rougliam. •onxvi rich ;an with pi ii'ite unco tthful aiii ply immer had taken of the bea igbourne ; even by a the Oxfor( middle-ag ctacles. 1 Balfour turned. " Oh,' said he, innocently, " have I made a mii take? Let me see. You had better give ni back the sixpence." Still more innocently the cabman — never doubi • Balfour, ing but that a gentleman who lived in Ficcadill n time to d 'All right. t." le went to Pic enjoy a monopol icd, Hugh Balfoii an ; some said Ii self into a passi< orator, with a d ce, " after the lau )rr, wliich we hav ysclf have but oni oniHlicd — I am ai iicli opinions of tin liose you have no e to represent tlia Balfour, with hi out his watch, "i I liave but tlire thins definite tha GREEN PASTijRES AND PICCADILLY. 17 uld act as such — handed liim the sixpence, lich Balfour put, in his pocket. " Don't be such a fool next time," said he, as walked off to get his ticket, e had a couple of minutes to spare, and after ing taken hU seat, he walked across the plat- m to get an evening paper. He was met by old college companion of his. ' Balfour," said he, " I wanted to see you. You ember that tall waiter at the Oxford and imbridge, the one who got ill, had to give up — " ' And you got him into some green-grocery busi- )3 or other. Yes." " Well, he is desperately ill now, and his af- rs are at the worst. His wife doesn't know at to do. I am getting up a little subscription her. I want a couple of guineas from you." " Oh," said Balfour, somewhat coldly, " I rather like the notion of giving money to these sub- irmuring chorus ( iptions without knowing something of the case, lave known so many dying people get rapidly i^n " said Balfou ter after they got a pension from the Civil it, or a donation from the Literary Fund, or a •se from their friends. Where does the worn- live?" began the spokci lUloinan should s nstitucncy of whic ■Q that have falk but scarcely an ii 9 long. Well, yo candidate who wi hree mouths at in, I am afraid from Ballinnscroo Idington Station 'ay from the doo •led by much mot I busy man. Th ke 1 called ' Tiiree, Marquis Street, Lambeth." ' Take your seats, please." 3o these two parted, and Balfour's acquaint- e went back to the carriage, in which he had t his wife and her sisters, and to these he said, ' Did you ever know any thing like the mcan- is of these Scotch V I have just met tliat fel- Balfour — he has thirty thousand a year if he a penny — and I couldn't screw a couple of ot at all incouoei is more, I mean t i^h until the end c u will be glad lewhat nearer thn in tlie bother come Since the goveri neas out of him for a poor woman whose lius- i\i Universities Bi ; there is no doul: ill be a dissolutio there is no savin me quis Street, Lambeth; make inquiries if woman in great distress. Give ten |>!>undB. Make strict inquiries." " Now, Jewsbury, I am with you. I hope there are no men coming to your rooms to-night; I want to have a long talk with you about this Ju- dicature business. Yes, and about something more important eveti than that." The Rev. Mr. Jewsbury looked up. "The fact is," said the young man, with a smile, " I have been thinking of getting married." id is dying. Fancy! Now I can believe all stories 1 have heard of him within ilio last r or two. Ho asks men to dinner; liasCham- ;ne on the sideboard ; pretends he is so busy In that cas( ^''ig politics that he forgets all about it ; hi.s sts have to content tlienisclves with a glass sherry, while he has a little claret and water. hasn't a cigar in the house. He keeps one your gratitude fol'-'^e, I believe — an old cob — for pounding up i down in Hyde Park of a morning ; but on thirty thousand a year he can't afford himself )roiigliam. No wonder those Scotch fellows ome rich men. I have no doubt his father ;an with picking up pins in the street." ii'ite unconscious of having provoked all this ithful animadversion, Balfour was already ply immersed in certain Local Taxation Bills had taken out of his bag. Very little did he of the beautiful landscapes through which the •ture at their ow i" whirled on that bright and glowing after- ;ive in Parliameii "i i although, of course, he had a glance at igbourne ; that was something not to be miss- even by a young and enthusiastic politician, the Oxford Station he was met by a thin, lit- middle-agcd man, with a big head and blue ctacles. This was the Rev. Henry Jewsbury, I four jumped oul ^-^^f-^^ ^®1'P"^ "^ Exeter.^^ cabman cighteei ' Well, Balfour, my boy," called out this cler- (lan, in a rich and jovial voice, which startled out, affcc ^^ i^ c.\me from that shrunken body, " I am % 1 to see ,'ou. How late you are ! You'll just n time to dine in hall : I will lend you a gown." 'All right. But I must send off a telegram have I made a mii id better give ni le went to the office. This was the telegram : man — never doubi • Balfour, Exeter College, Oxford, to E. Jack- lived in f iccadillli Piccadilly, London : Go to three Mar- B CHAPTER IV. ALHA HATER. Tt was a singular change for this busy, hard- headed man to leave the whiil of LoTidon life — with its late nights at the Hoiise, its conversa- tional breakfasts, its Wednesday and Saturday dinner parties and official receptions, and so forth — to spend a quiet Sunday with his old friends of Exeter. The very room in which he now sat, waiting for Mr. Jew.sbury to hunt him out a gown, had once been his own. It over- looked the Fellows' Garden — that sacred haunt of peace and twilight and green leaves. Once upon a time, and that not very long ago, it was pretty well known that Balfour of Exeter might have had a fellowship presented to him had he not happened to be too rich a man. No one, of course, could have imagined for a moment this ai?ibitious, eager, active young fellow suddenly giving up his wealth, and his chances of marry- ing, and his political prospects, in order that ho might lead a quiet student life within the shadow of these gray walls. Nevertheless, that dream had crossed his mind nioreth.in once: most com- monly when he had got home from the House about two in the morning, tirod out, vexed with the failure of some pet piojcct, unnerved by the apathy of the time, the government he supported being merely a government of sufferance, hold- ing office only because the rival party was too weak to relieve it from the burden. And indeed there was .something of the home- returni.ig feelins! in his mind as he now slipped on the academical gown and hurried across to the great yellow-white hall, in which the under- graduates were already busy with their modest l)eef and ale. There were unknown faces, it is true, ranged by tlio long tables; but up here on the cross table, on the platform, he was among old friends; and there were old friends, too, looking over at him from the dusty frames on the walls. He was something of a lion now. He had been a marked man at Oxfnrd ; for al- though he had never made the gallery of the Union tremble with resonant eloquence (he was, in foct. any thing but a fluent speaker), he had abundant self-possession, and a tolerably keen instinct of detecting the weak points in his op- ponent's line of argument. Besides — and this goes for something — there was an impress of power in the mere appearance of the man, in his square forehead, his firm lips, and deep -set, keen gray eyes. He had an iron frame, too — lean, bony, capable of enduring any fatigue. Of course the destination of such a man was poli- tics. Could any one imagine him letting his life slip away from him in these quiet halls, mum- H GREEN PASTURES AND FICCADILLT. blliig out a lecture to a dozen ignorant young men in the morning, pacing up and down Addi- son's Walic in tlie afternoon, and glad to see the twiliglit come over as he sat in the common-room of au evening, with claret and cherries, and a cool wind blowing in from tlie Fellows' Garden V It was to this quiet little low-roofed common- room they now adjourned when diimer in hall was over, and the uuder-graduates had gone noise- lessly off, lilce so many rabbits to their respect- ive burrows. There were not more than a dozen round the polished mahogany table. The can- dles were not lit; there was still a pale light shining over the still garden outside, its beautiful green foliage inclosed on one side by the ivied wall of the Bodleian, and just giving one a glimpse of the Radcliffe dome beyond. It was fresh and cool and sweet in here ; it was a time for wine and fruit ; there were no raised voices in the talk, for there was scarcely a whisper among the leaves of the laburnums outside, and the great acacia spread its feathery branches into a cloudless and lambent sky. " Well, Mr. Balfour," said an amiable old gen- tleman, " and what do the government mean to do with us now ?" " I should think, Sir," said Mr. Balfour, mod- estly, " that if the government had their wiAih, they would like to be drinking wine with you at this moment. It would be charitable to ask them to spend an evening like this with you. They Lave had sore times of it uf lute ; and their un- popularity is growing greater every day — why, I don't know. I suppose they have been too mueli in earnest. The Eiifilisli public likes a joke now and again in the conduct of its alfuirs. No En- glish cabinet should be made up without its buf- foon — unless, indeed, tiie Prime Minister can as- sume the pint oc'fiision ally. Insincerity, imperti- nence, niahidministratiun — any thing will be for- given you if you eiin make the House laugh. On the other hand, if you happen to be a very ear- nest pel son, if you are foolish enough to believe that there are greiit wrongs to be righted, and if you worry and bother the country with your sin- cerity, the country will take the first chance — no matter what services you have rendered it — of kicking you out of ofliee. It is natural enough. No one likes to be b(/tliered by serious people. As we are all quite content, why should we be badgeret>7 I'fo " It is a charming country. I am more and more ''.'•' '"'''7. '"^^ delighted with it each time I see it. Is not that— "^ 'iil'ties, surely that is Windsor ?" »o^^ all ab All over the western sky there was a dusk; '''ctlier it blaze of red ; and at the far horizon line, above ffvativcs h the dark blue woods, there was a tiny line of '^solution transparent brown — apparently about an inch in oimtryontl length — with a small projection just visible at ™J much each end. It was Windsor Castle; but he did * "'^se m not look long at Windsor Castle. The girl hd *'*'* couW now turned her eyes in that direction too ; he ^^^^ of th( had a glimpse of those wonderful clear dcpthd ■* "cr the " *^ *^ ut an abst of color, or rib< roreno jewelry; e of gold round lite rose in her »f wheels in the lirob a bit, and in the pale and lext minute that who knew her 1 was somewhat k pupils of the than usual, and it iiette as it came >n the elms. A acrosri her face, [»g fingers were ir possessed her ay the gladness I?" cried Hugh was usual with iteps and shook led by the old GREEN PASTURES AXD PICCADILLY. 21 under the soft dark eyelashes ; the pale, serious, beautiful face caught a touch of color from the glow in the west. But why should she be so cold, so distant, so afraid ? When they went into the iiall, he followed mechanically the man who had been to'! jtf to wait on him. lie said nothing in reply wl ..3 heard that dinner was at seven. lie could nOb 'iderstand in what way he had of- fended her. Mechanically, too, he dressed. Surely it was nothing he had said in the House? That was too abiiurd : how could tliis girl, brought up as she had been, care about what was said or done in Parliament ? And then he grew to wonder at hiiri-sclf. He was more disturbed by a slight c'luuigc of manner in this girl than by any thing that had happened to him for years. He was a iiiuu of good nervL' and fair aelf-confidenco. He wii.s not much depressed by the hard things his constituents said of him. If a minister snubbed him in answer to a question, he took the snub with much composure; and his knowle(l<;e that it would appear in all the papers nex>< morning did not at all interfere with his dinner of th.it vening. But now, had it come to this already, '\\t his ev^cs but ''"'* ^® should become anxious, disturbed, rest il hers, and she luickly from his , why should she lid hope he •"•"' ? That was but lad scarcely said leemed either ex- stunt. illow-faccd man, ;r, and be-'towcJ hat smile of hi^ to be forgotten ye for the simili- olf poured out a thy fluid he had ;"■ if he had ob- suddenly in the appeared again, i(iuid — then h nhat his uncle's ;ious grin rathe shot all over his his eyes and re- itaneously disap- irnial gloom and oly features. re over from the less, merely because a girl had turned away her eyes when she spoke to him ? The dinner gong was sonnd'ng as he went lown stairs. He found Lord Willowby and his laughter in the drawing-room — a spacious, poor- y furnished chamber that was kept pretty much u shadow by a large chestnut-tree just outside he windows. Then a servant threw open the ;reat doors, and they went into the dining-room. This, too, was a large, airy, poorly furnished cum ; but what did that matter when the red ight from the west was painting great squares )f beautiful color on the walls, and when one iould look from the windows away over the level country that was now becoming blue and misty uider the deepening glow of the sunset ? They lad not lit the candles as yet ; the fading suu- ight was enough. " My dear fellow," remonstrated Lord Willow- )y, when the servant had offered Balfour two or hrce sorts of winC; he refusing them all, "what san I get for you ?" " Nothing, thank you. I rarely drink wine," le said, carelessly. "I think. Lady Sylvia, you laid the archery meeting was on Wednesday ?" Now here occurred a strange thing, which was ontinued all through dinner. Lady Sylvia had timid voice to PPareijtly surrendered her reserve. She still cast down he had not con. bject all the way e end and aim of autif ul !" said he. m more and more it. Is not that— ere was a duskj •rizon line, above 18 a tiny line of about an inch in n just visible at stle; but he di(i e, nlking freely, sometimes eagerly, and doing what he could to entertain her guest. But wliy was t that she resolutuiy refused to hear Balfour's (raises of the quiet and beautiful influences of a ountry life, and would have nothing to do with I'chery meetings and croquet parties, and such rivialities, but, on the contrary, was anxious to ;iiow all abo\it the chances of the government — licther it was really unpopular — why the Con- ervativcs had refused to take office — when the Issolution was expected — what the appeal to the oinitry on the part of minister.'^ would probably be V So much for her. Her desire to be instructed these matters was almost pathetic. If her TheVirl ha^ ^'"^'^^ could not be said to beat with the great iiVection too; h( '"'l^ «f t^e people that was not her fault; for iful clear depths ^ "*' "^^ mass of her fellow-countrymen was r e ^m un abstract expression that she saw in the newspapers. But surely she could feel aiid give utterance to a warm interest in public affairs and a warm sympathy with those who were giv- ing up day and night to ttie tiiankless duties of legislation ? Now as for him. He was all for the country and green fields, for peace and grateful silence, for quiet days, and books, and the singing of birds. What was the good oi that turmoil they called public life? What effect could be i)ro. duced on the character by regarding cunstantly that clamorous whirl of eager self-interest, of mean ambitions, of hypocrisy and brazen impu- dence and ingratitudK? Fur better, surely, the independence and self-respett of a private life, the purer social and physical atmosphere of the still country ways, the simple pleasures, the free- dom from care, the content and rest. It was not a discussion ; it was a series of sug- gestions, of half-declared preferences. Lord Wil- lowby did not speak much. lie was a inelau- choly-faced man, and apathetic until there oc- curred the chance of his getting a few pounds out of you. Lady Sylvia and Mr. Balfour hud most of the conversation to themselves, and the manner of it has just been indicated. Mr. Balfour would know all about the church to which this young lady went. Was it High or Low, ancient or modern * Had she tried her hand at altar screens ? Did she help in the Christ- mas decorations? Lady Sylvia replied to these questions briefly. She appeared far more inter- ested in the free fight then going on between Cardinal CuUen and Mr. O'Keeflfe. Wiiat was Mr. Balfour's opinion as to the jurisdiction of the Pope in Ireland ? Mr. Balfour was greatly charmed by the look of the old-fashioned inn they had passed. Waa it the " Fox and Hounds ?" It was so picturesque- ly situated on the iiigh bank at the top of the hill. Of course Lady Sylvia had noticed the cu- rious painting on the sign-board. Lady Sylvia, looking very wise and profound and serious, seemed rather anxious to know what were the chances of the Permissive Bill ever being passed,_ and what effect did Mr. Balfour think that would have on the country. She was quite convinced — this person of large experience of jails, reform- atories, police stations, and the like — that by far the greater proportion of the crimes committed in this country were the result of drinking. On the other hand, she complained that so many conflicting statements were made. How was one to get to know how the Permissive Bill principle had worked in Maine? Lord Willowby only stared at first; then he began to be amused. Where the devil (this waa what he thought) had his daughter |)ickcd up these notions? They were not, so fur as he knew, contained in any school-room "Treasury of Knowledge." As the red light faded out in the west, and a clear twilight filled the sky, it seemed to Balfour that there was something strange and mystical in the face of the girl sitting opjiosite to hitu. With tho.^c earnest and beautiful eyes, and those proud and sensitive lips, she might have been an inspired poetess or prophetess, he imagined, lead- ing her disciples and worshipers by the earnest- ness of her look and the grave sweet melody of her voice. As the twiliglit grew grayer withia the room, this magnetic influence seemed to grow > i ts GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY, stronger and Btronp;er. He could hnve believed there was a subtle light shining in tliiic ))ule faue. He was, indeed, in something lilic a trance when the servants brought in the candles; and then, when he saw the warmer light touch this magic- al and mystic face, and when he discovered that Lady Sylvia was now less inclined to let her eyes meet his, it was with a great regret he bade good- by to the lingering and solemn twilight and the Tision it had contained. Lady Sylvia rose to withdraw from the table. "Do you know," said she to Mr. Balfour, "this is the most beautiful time of the day with us. Papa and I always have a walk through the trees after dinner in the evening. Don't let him sit long." "As for myself," said Balfour, promptly — he was standing at the time — " I never drink wine after dinner — " " And .vou never drink wine during dinner," said his host, with a sudden and fierce smile, that instantly vanished. "Sit down, Balfour. You must nt least try a glass of that Madeira." "Thank you, I am not thirsty," said the youn- fer man, with great simplicity. " Really I would just as soon go out now — " " Oh, Ity all means," said his host. " But don't hurry any man's cattle. Sylvia will take you for a stroll to the lake and back — perhaps j'ou may hear a nightingale. I shall join you presently." Of course it was with the deepest chagrin that the young man found himself compelled to accept T>f this fair escort ; and of course it was with the rreatest reluctance that the Lady Sylvia threw a ' ght scarf over her head and led the way out into y won't expeet to sec me again till nine or en in the evenini', when they meet in tiio kitch- yfrom the boson ,„ j„ gmokc ami ihink beer. It is then I hope ere was less of ^ ^^,^ ^\\ jj^g information 1 want. You see there i\t the stors wen ^in ^e no great hardship. I shall bo able to slip ite and throbbinj of,ie in the morning, get wasliei), nnd a sleep. ns. The nightin '|,g rooms in these common lod'iing-liouses are id the woods wer gpy f^jrly clean ; the police supervision is very tin a cool breez tr-f-; " ingwith it a seer ..jt jg not the hardship," said Lady Sylvia to f were in no hurr gp companion, and her breath came nnd went omewhat more ((uickly, " it is the danger — you nore honestly aw .jn {,g ,|„jtp ,j|Q„g — among such people." in to speak of hi « Qh," said he, lightly, " there is no danger at ifficulties. It wa |] Besides, I have an ally— the great and pow- ;ell on this beaut rf,,! Mrs. Grace. Shall I tell you about Mrs. onferred roman( (race, the owner of pretty nearly half of Happi- i eager, busy, pra< ggg ^llev ?" le was listening t ^^^^^ L^,ly gyj^j^ ^„„j^ l,g„p something of this ■ of the future, t p^^^j^ ^^jtj, t|,g pretty name, who lived in that ior. It was of n n-ored alley. •sale and commoi .. j ^(,3 wandering through the courts and lanes k he had to do. ovn there one dav," said Balfour, " and I was 1 said, "I am on jyj„g ^ j,^^ time 6f it ; for I had a tall hat on, ily learning how t |,jpj, the people regarded as ludicrous, and thoy s, there is not 01 o„rcd scorn and contempt on me, and one or fancies that ai ^o of the women at the windows above threw »w on the most i ,i^gg ^^ jjjy jjj^t. However, as I was passing to their own doo ,g joor, I saw a very strong-built woman sud- 1 their informatu ^^jy ^^^^ ^iit, and she threw a basket in ,0 the never think of 1 ijjig ^f t^c lane. Then she went bade, and elves. They woi .gggntly she appeared again, simply shoving be- reiti; th^havei ,pg j^gj, — |jgj. j^j^j^^j ^.^^ gjg goUar — a man who )plied. They^pa ^g certainly as big as herself. ' You clear out,' .cts, Lodging-hou ,g g^^ij , ^J, ^ then with one arm — it was bare 3, Water Bills, ai ,(j pretty muscular — she shot him straight after the basket. Well, the man wn'< a meek man, and did not say a word. 1 saiil to her, ' Is that your husband vou are treating so badly Y' Of "ourso I kept out of the reach of her arm, for wrj;nen who are quarreling with their husbands are pretty free with their hands. But this wom- an, although she had a firm, resolute face and a gray mustache, was as cool and collected as a judge. ' Oh dear no,' she said ; ' that is one of my tenants. He can't pay, so he's got to get out.* On the strength of this introduction I made the acquaintance of Mrs. (rrace, who is really a most remarkable woman. I suppose she is a widow, for she hasn't a winjrlo relative in the world. She has gone on renting house after house, letting the rooms, collecting her rents and her nightly fees for lodgers, and looking after her property generally with a decision and ability qu'te out of the ordinary. I don't suppose she lo,5e8 a shilling in the month by bad de'i,ts. ' Pay, or out you go,' is her motto with her tenants; ' Pay first, or you can't come in,' she says to her lodgers. She has been an invaluable ally to me, that woman. I have gone through the most frightful dens with her, and there was scarcely a word said ; she is not a woman to stand any non- sense. And then, of course, her having amassed this property, sixpence by sixpence, has made her anxious to know the conditions on which all the property around her is held, and she has a re- markably quick and shrewd eye for things. Once, I remember, we had been exploring a number of houses that were in an infamous condition. ' Well,' I said to her, ' how do the sanitary in- spectors pass this over ?' She answered that the sanitary inspectors wero only the servants of the Mciiieal OtH^er of Health. ' Very well, then,' I said, ' why doesn't the Medical Officer of Health act?' You should have seen the cool frankness with which she looked at me. ' You see, Sir,' she said, ' the Me the cool iid a certa 'us, ])erha[ n.l he kne athcr-in-la " Lord \^ in. Yo our daugh GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. n are the noblest woman I liave known. I — well, I will any it now — I love you, and have loved you almost since the first moment I saw you. That is the truth. If I have pained you — well, you will forgive me after I have gone, and this will be the last of it." She had withdrawn her hands, and now stood before him, her eyes cast down, her heart beating go thnt she could not speak. " If I have pained you," said he, after a mo- ment or two of anxious silence, " my presump- tion will bring its own punishment. Lady .Sylvia, glinll I take you back to the Hull y" She put one hand lightly on his arm. "I am afraid," she said; and' ,ould but scarce- ly hear the low and trembling words. " How can 1 bo to you — what you described 1 It is so much —I have never thought of it — and if I should fail to he all that you expect?" He took her in his ari.is and kissed her forehead. " I hove no fe. . Will you try?" " Yes," she answered ; and now she looked up into his face, with her wet eyes full of love and hope and generous self-surrender. " I will try to be to you all that you could wish me to be." " Sylvia, my wifi'," was all he said in reply ; nd indeed there was not much need for further epeech between these two. The silence of the beautiful night was eloquence enough. And then from time to time they had the clear, sweet sing- ing of the nightingale and the stirring of the uight wind among the trees. By-and-by they went back to the Hall; they c I know a little nalked arm in arm, with a great peace and joy rour saying such n their hearts ; and they re-entered the dining- room. Lord Willowby started up In his easy- 1 of his habit of uimir ^nd rubbed his eyes. " Bless me I" said he, with one of his violent imiles, " I have been asleep. His lordship was a peer of the realm, and hia ord must be taken. The fact was, however, wcr than that ()lfti,at he had not been asleep at all, wrong. Lady Syl You have a grcal d inspire any min tnswered, with this matter aU e him to makg rt she believed huse unlimited lunnium would , " you BOO how ss, this Parliit il of mean and k a man could a flush ne inspired, d, suddenly, disappointment ions luce. She SREEN PASTURES AND PICCADU.LT. n \e Tlouse of Commons. And if you and T, now, f indignntion or earnestness in his eyes. " You know 1 am a very poor man," his lordship sntinued. " 1 can't give Sylvia any thing." "I don't expect it," said Uulfour. " On the other hand, you are a rich man. In w.i»4 wonderingBic'li cases, you know, there is ordinarily a mar- it been present- a^rc settlement, and naturally, us Sylvia's guard- ir might not be ii, I should expect you to give her out of your ' a certain com- hnnduncc. But then, Balfour," said his lord- lip, with a gay air and a ferocious smile, " I was linking — merely as a joke, you know — what a cli young fellow like yourself might do to pro- line an impression on a romantic girl. Mar- h;;c settlements are very prosaic things; they Kik rather like buying a wife; moreover, they uvc to mention contingencies which it is awk DP cynicism ; he anl for an unmarried girl to hear of. Wouldn't girl be better pleased, now, if an envelope were liicL'd on her dressing-room table the night be- )(! her marriage — tlie envelope containing a )lor drawings to mili-iiote — say for iloU.OOO? The mystery, the ii|ii'i.si>, the deliglit — all these things would tell |i(in a girl's mind ; and she would be glad she (luld not have to go to church an absolute bcg- id imagined tlml n'- Of courtie that is merely a joke ; but can't dl for her. H( »» imagine what the girl's face would be like something more lieu she opened the envelope V" Hull'our did not at all respond to his compan- she went to gctBn's gxyt'^.v- i" ^''^ drawing-room below he had utiayed an unusual enthusiasm of speech. What ," said she, indif i^iu in his circumstances could fail to show a hicli of them you lUural elation? But if Lord Willowby had cal- you good-nigha|>latcd on this elation interfering with Mr. Bal- lur's very tfobcr habit of looking at business attors, he had made a decided mistake. Balfour laid dowr. his pipe, and pu . his out- retched hands on his knees. I don't know," said he, coolly, " whether you can to suggest that 1 should do something of her good-night, le sort you describe—" " My dear fellow !" said Lord Willowby, with air of protest In was only a fancy — a ke." "Ah! I thought so,' said Balfour. "I think is better to treat money matters simply as mon- an terribly," said lubjects in which d she, with some t passed between Fusive embraces. Iship, with unac say to changing in the library tchman ought to ' matters ; romance has plenty of other things y. Besides, you he two men went ry rarely imoked, d^al with. And as regards a marriage settle- cnt, of course I should let my lawyer arrange )oked and talkcdje whole affair." "Oh, naturally, naturally," said his lordship, lyly; but he inwardly invoked a curse on the igarette ; and he !ftd of this mean-spirited Scotchmaa ijoyment of that " You mentioned £50,000," continued the youn- !t try something 'r man, speaking slowly and apparently with by stretched out d deal of pride in our firm, though 1 don't low any thing about its operations myself ; and they have lately been eitending the businr«fl both in Australia and China, and 1 have drawn only what I wanted for my yearly accounts. So I caa easily have £00,000 from them. That in a safe four per cent, investment would bring £2Uoo a jear. Do you think Lady Svlvia would consid- er—" " Sylvia is a mere child," her father said. " Sho knows nothing about r,uch things." " If you |)referred it," said Balfour, generously, " I will make it part of the settlement that tho trustees shall invest that sura, suliject to Lady Sylvia's directions," Lord Willowby's face, that had been gradually resuming its sombre look, brightened up. "I suppose you would act as one of the trust- ees y" said Balfour. His lordship's face grew brighter still. It was quite eagerly that he cried out, " Oh, willingly, willingly. Sylvia would havo every contidence in me, naturally, and 1 should be delighted to be able to look after the interests of my child. You can not tell what she has been to me. I have tended her every day of her life — " ["Except when you went knocking about all over Europe without her," thought Balfour.] " I have devoted all my care to her — " [" Except what you gave to the Seven Per Cent. Invcstinont Conpany," thought Balfour.] "Slie woulti implicitly trust her affairs in my hands — "' [" And prove herself a bigger fool than I took her to be," thought this mean-spirited Scotch- man.] Lord Willowby, indeed, seemed to wake up again. Two thousand pounds a year was ample pin-money. He had no sympathy witli the ex- travagant habits 01 some women. And as Syl- via's natural guardian, it would be his business to advise her as to the proper investment. " My dear lord," cried Balfour, quite cheerful- ly, "there won't be the slightest trouble about that; for, of course, I shall be the other trustee." The light on Lord Willowby's worn and sunk- en face suddenly vanished. But he remained very polite to his future son-in-law, and he even lit another cig rette to keep him company. CHAPTER Vin. UISLBADING LIGHTS. The two or three anys Balfour now spent at Willowby Hall formed a beautiful, idle, idyllic pe- riod not soon to be forgotten either by him or by the tender-natured girl to whom he had just become engaged. Lord Willowby left them pretty much to themselves. They rode over the great dark heath, startling the rabbits ; or drove along the wooded lanes, under shelter of the elms and limes ; or walked through the long grass and buttercups of the park ; or, in the evening, paced up and down that stone terrace, waiting for the first notes of the nightingale. It was a time for glad and wist- ful dreams, for tender self-confessions, and — what is more to the purpose — for the formation of per- fectly ridiculous estimates of each other's charac- ter, tastes, and habits. This roan, for example, who was naturally somewhat severe and exacting in his judgments, who was implacable in hip con- tempt for meanness, hypocrisy, and pretense, and S8 GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY, who was JiiRt a trifle too bittiT and pluiii-Hpokcn ill (.•ipri'HHiii); that (.'oiiteiiipt, had now ^niwn won- dvrtiilly (joiiniJfratu to all luuiiaii fraiUivH, ^entlu ill jiiil^nieiit, iiihI f;ou(l-natiiriM| in Hpi-euh. lie did not at till uDii^idt'i- it iiuoi'Msiiry to toll hur what hu thuii^lit ol' liiT fiithiT. illM tlurc'U virtue did not f)ri'vi'iit his pi'oini^^iii;; to dine with huf iiiiclu. And 10 did not liinoy thai ho hiiiiHolf wuh Kuilty of nny fi^ronn hv|i'ioi'i.-v in pi'otvndin)< tobu iiiiiiii'iMoly iii- tc'i'L'rttod in Mil' foodiiiK of piffooiiM, tliu wucding of ilowtti' hi'd.'-, llio I'oi'ordH of loual oriokot-inatolioi*, and llio iiii'ili'Ciiiiiiii)} vitiit of the blHhop. Diii'in^' iliii.c pk'usant duyH they hud talked, ag lovers will ol' the nocesMity of abaohito oonHdeiice bt'twirn wwoolhoiirt and mveotheart, between hus- band and wife. To (;uard a^aiiiHt tlie sad inisini- doistundiii);.-* of life, they would always be explicit- ly frank with eaeh other, whatever ha|)pened. Hut then, if you had reproaelicd lialfour with ooneoal- ill); from his betrotlied his opinion of certain of tier rolatiiiiis, he would probaiily have demanded in liis turn wliat absolute eoiiHdenee was? Would life be tolerable if every tiling wore to bu spoken V A man comes home in the evening;: he has lust his lawsuit — things have been bad in the City — per- Imps he has been walkin){ all day in u pair of ti^lit boots : anyhow, lie is tired, irri(al)le, impa- tient. His wile meets him, and before letting Iiim sit down for a moment, will hurry him olT to the nursery to show him the wonderful drawings Adolphiis has drawn on the wall. If he is abso- lutely frank, he will exclaim, " Oh, get away ! You and your children arc a thorough nuisance !" That would be frankness : al)Rolute conlidencc could go no further, lint the husband is not such a fool — he is not so soUishly cruel — as to say any thing of the kind. He goes off to get anotiier pair of shoes; be sits down to dinner, perlia|)S a trifle silent; but by-and-by he recovers his eciuanimity, he begiua to look at the bri<;liter side of things, and is presently heard to declare that he is (piite Hure that boy has something of the artist in liim, and that it is no wonder his mother takes such a pride in him, for he is the most iotelligent child — etc. Moreover, it was natural in the circumstunces for Balfour to be unusually gentle and concilia- tory. He was proud and pleased ; it would hiive been strange if this new sense of happiness had not made him a little generous in his judgments of others. He was not consciously acting a part ; but then every young man must necessarily wish to make of himself something of a hero in the eyes of his betrothed. Nor was she consciously acting a part when she impressed on him the con- viction that all her aspirations and ambitions were connected with public life. Each was try- ing to please the other ; and each was apt to see in the other what he and she desired to see there. To put the case in as short a form as may be: here was a gii'l whose whole nature was steeped in Tennyson, and here was a young man who had a profound admiration for Thackeray. But when, under the shadow of the great elms, in the still- ness of these summer days, he read to her pas- sagos from " Maud," he declared that existence had nothing further to give than that ; while she, for hc.v part, was eager to have him tell her of the squabbles and intrigues of Parliamentary life, and expressed her settled belief that Vavifi/ Fair was the clevei'est book in the whole world. On the morning of the day on which ho was to Stntitu iininiK . Ill ng' leave, ho brought down to the brealtfatt-rooin newspaper. He laughed ti he handed it to hvr Thi« wu a copjr of the Ballinateroon which contained not only an account of the ii tervicw between Mr. Balfour, M.P., and a depui tioii from his comitituents, but also a loading ii tide on that ovunt. The Jiallimucro&n Smtini waxed eloquent over tho matter. The Memlx for BallinaHcroon was "a renegade Hcotchroai whose countrymen were ashamed to send him t Parliament, and who had had the audacity to ai cept the representation of an Irish borough, whit \u\il been grossly betrayed and insulted as the n ward for its mistaken generosity." There was good deal more of the same sort of thing; it not much novelty for Balfour. But it was new to Lady Sylvia, it was wii flashing eyes and a crimsoned cheek that h rose and carried the newspaper to her fathoi who was standing at the window, Lord Willui by merely looked down the column, and smiled " Balfour is accustomed to it," said he, " But is it fair, is it sufTorable," she said, wii that hot indignation still in her face, " that an one should have to grow accustomed to sui treatment y Is tiiis the reward in store for a ma who spends his life in the jiublie service? Tli writer of that shameful attack ought to bo pro edited ; he ought to be flned and imprisoned. , I were a man, I would horsewhip him, and I ii sure ho would run away fast enough." "Oh no. Lady Sylvia," said Balfour, though 1: heart warmed to the girl for that generous c poiisal of ids cause. " Vou must remember tli he is smarting under the wrongs of Ireland, ( rather the wrongs of Ballinascroon. I dare sa if I were a leading man in a borough, I shou not like to have the member representing borough simply making a fool of it, I can the joke of the situation, although I am a Scoti' man ; but you can't expect the people in the bo oiigli to see it. And if my friend the editor warm language, you see that is how he earns li bread. 1 have no doubt he is ■» very good so of fellow. 1 have no doubt, when they kick n out of Ballinascroon, and if I can get in for son other place, I shall meet him down at Wc! minster, and ho will have no hesitation at all asking me to help to get h.., son the Uovcrno ship of Timbuctoo, or'Sonie such post." Was not this generous? she said to hersvl He might have exacted damages from this pa man. Perhaps he might have had him impri oned and sent to the tread-mill. But no. The was no malice in his nature, no anxious vanit no sentiment of revenge. Lady Sylvia's was ii the only case in which it miglit have been i marked that the most ordinary qualities of pi dence or indiiTcrcnce exhibited by a young become, in the eyes of the young man's heart, proof of a forbearance, a charity, a ness, altogether heroic and sublime. Her mother having died when she was a mc child. Lady Sylvia had known scarcely any gri more serious than the loss of a pet canary, or withering of a favorite flower. Her father prof e ed an elaborate phraseological love for her, ai he was undoubtedly fond of his only child ; b he also dearly liked his personal liberty, and had from her earliest years accustomed her bid him good-by without much display of tion on either side. But now, on this momiog, us kixil forwa 1 -xeiiK'' of ba«k town with ir life tho i iiuvthing ah " Sylvia," H () the wagi is morning. She started lu hoped tl wn merely to Mr. Bal It meet on t K? Ho, as thoy IS quite unu ;er the seri used to t( d to see he ive through ii'its. And she w r she kept '/( up. It w irrre to ice n inc. "Sylvia," si no for a ni II?" " Yos," said " llow oftei 1— I don't " Would it I iiiing?" "Oh," she H lie to mo .so I must be. r way, now I iiiiist pro 1 will pi'ii liiind to Ii you shiil nl tho lioiK lliiiiisoroon. riio train to his 1 r heart wn> ■^11! con((uo I people ab liy's daugl fCiiished pe was prett; ooii deal o ly Lady S3 1 to a gent St; and tl tndly smile car there was bein; >ded coiml der, dark iuus mem It was lething ne se of lonel rt yeamir ly — was a light with en ioning an) _ nifl tieiilar 1 BWCC iut goo •ti in. '. OREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLT. reakf«it-roon) tndcd it to h«r atcroon SmlvJ^mwtn ba«k alone cuunt of the i ',, and a dopu Imo a leading ti iMcroon Senti nvRffi h<>avln(^Rii of hear* iMMMRMd her. She okwd forward to that drive t«> the itation with a III! t«iiit'3 of foreboding; nhe thought of hereulf for her father waa going up town with Halfotir — and for the tiiiit time in r life the solitude of the Hall acemed to her )roi>tliing i*he could not bear. Sylvia," Haid her father, when they had all got The MembAto the wagonette, " you don't look very bright ;adc Scotchnia#iH morning." Slii> i*tarted,and fluHhed with an anxious ahnmc. I! iiiiduvity to aMie hoped they would not think she was ciut borough, whic >wn merely becauHe she was going to bid good- t to Mr. Balfour for a few duvH. Would they It meet on the following Wednesday at her un> of thing; itiu l'xV Ho, as they drovo over to the station, the girl it was wiilftH quite unuHually gay and cheerful. Khe was no check that h\ rifterthoseriouHSyllubus whom her cousin John- r to her fiitliei ' uitod to tcoHo into petulance. Balfour was Lord Willot ml to sec her looking so bright ; doubtless tho mn, and smiled Ivo through the sweet fresh air hud raised her • Hiiitl he. liitH. e," hIic Ritid, wii And she was equally cheerful in the station ; r face, "that an r Hlie kept saying to herself, "/Tw/i up now. iixlomcd to siK II store for a ma ic service V T ought to bo pro 1 imprisoned, ip him, and I i ough." ilfotir, though li that generous c wt remember tin tigs of Ireland, ( oon. I dare hu borough, I shoui y) «/>. It M onlii Jive minuteit mm. And, oh ! if urn to ue me cry — the lea»l bit — /should die of ame," ".*<_vlvin," said ho, when they happened to bo ^iic for a moment, " I suppose I may write to liesitutioii at all son the Govcriio eh post." ;e8 from this poi a had liim impri " Yes," soid whe, timidly, "llow often?" I — I don't know," .onid .«lie, looking down. Would it bother you if you had a letter every lining?" '•Oil," nlie snid, " you could never slime. en she was a mc lis only child ; b nal liberty, and ' accustomed her ndiv smile in her face as she looked after that iut there was no smile at all in her face as was being driven back through the still and [xled country to the empty Hall. The large, der, dark gray eyes were full of trouble and scarcely any gii liuus memories ; her heart was heavy within pet canary, or tl . It was her first sorrow ; and there was Her father prof ei lething new, alarming, awful about it. This I love for her, ai se of loneliness— of being left— of having her rt yearning after something that had gone ly — was a new experience altogether, and it ught with it strange tremors of unrest and un- :h display of en soning anxiety, on this momiogi 8ho hiid often read in books that tlic best cure for care was hard work ; and as stMin as she got back to the Hall Mhe set busily aliout the fulfl'l- inent of her dailv luties. She f-uud, howeviT, but little relief, riie calm of mind and of i'H, that would not let her lie In peace. Tliat letter of the next morning, for example, she would havn to answer it. But how y Sho went to. her own little sitting-riNim and securely locked the door, and sat down to her desk. Sho stared at the blank paper for several minutes be- fore she dared to place sny thing on it ; and it was with a trembling hand that she traced out tho words, " Dmr Mr. liatfoui:" Then she pon- dered for a long time on wliat slie should say tn him — a difHcuit matter to decide, seeing she haii not as yet received the letter which ►he wislied to onswer. She wrote, " J/y drur Mr. Jkl/ntir," and looked at that. Then she wrote, wl'ili her hand trembling more than ever, " Jhar J/ ," but she got no further tiutn that, for some lush of color mounted to her face, and i^hc fMiI'lenly resolved to go and see tlie head ganlener .ilioiit the new geruniiims. Before leaving the n.om, however, siic tore up the sheet of paper into very small pieces. Now the head gardener was a soured and dis- appointed man. The whole place, he considered, was starved ; such flowers as lie had, noiiody eaiiio to see; while Lord Willowby had an ama/ingly accurate notion of tlie amount wlilcli the sale of tho fruit of each year ought to liring. He was curt of speech, and resented interfeience. On this occasion, moreover, he wiis in an III liunior. Hut to Ills intense surprise ills young mislress was not to be beaten olt by short answers. Was lier ladyship in an ill humor too? Aiivliow, sho very qiiiekly brought him to his senses; ami one good issue herself the ter Johnny treated with so much familiarity am ^^^^y f'ecnuL disrespect was of an appearance to drive the fan ' ""d "■ I""'' cies of a young man mad. She was tall and slen der and stately ; though she was just over seven teen, there was something almost mature am nn'slied lioi womanly in her presence; she had large daili iHi'wbyaiu eyes, heavy-lidded ; big masses of black haii '' ■'" *''''.v w tightly braided up behind to show her shapelj iidaied scai neck ; a face such as Lely would have painted •'■'* being et but younger and fresher and pinker; a chii "' became \ somewhat too full, but round with the soft con tour of girlhood. She was certainly very nnlik her cousin both in appearance and expression Lady Sylvia's eyes were pensive and serious ; thii young woman's were full of practical life am ■"! I'-i'l *-'■'' audacity. Lady Sylvia's under lip retreated some "ids with tl what, and gave a sweet, shy, sensitive look to tin rangers i)ri fine face; whereas Honoria Blythe's under lip imnionplae re dinner, i id it was till lattorof Mat already ad was full and round and ripe as a cherry, and wm in fit accordance with her frank and even bole black eye. Mrs. BIythe came into the drawing-room. Sh was a large and portly per.son, jmle, with paintei itcrprise, ar eyelashes and unnaturally yellow hair. Low "-'■''-' ^^''i** ^ Willowby had no great liking for his sister-in law; he would not allow Sylvia to go on a visii ' merely di to her ; when he and his dini^rliter came to town as on the present oceasioii, tliey stopped at a pii vate hotel i'l Arlington Sticet. Finally, the head of the house made his appoii ranee, Major Blytlu ipai'ditly Ii had all the physique that his elder brother. Lord '""l a '"'"t Willowby, lacked. He was stout and roseate oi otsteps on face, bald for the most part, iiis eves a trifle blood-shot, and his hand ineliiied to bo unsteady, except when ho was playing pool. He wore dia- mond studs; he said "by »»n» T:^i.K.^n..A ij» .....^.i. /..» *i.A ....... ...^.fl " How do Roger Tichborne. So much for the youugei branch of the BIythe family. As for the elder branch. Lord Willowby was al that moment seated in an easy-chair iu e room ii Arlington Street, reading the evening paper, wliili hia daughter was iu h«r own room, anxious ni ,s that porti onieliow, sh raven on hi uii with he louse of Coi ohle institu uuld go inti ipi'ise. And now vat dread pi si'over her s le sliaiiic of Tile Bivthi )t there. St lemed to he ixioiis, pert y on the p IV accident ic forgot th y evenings She was sti r heart be; ilfour. II( Now Balfo ! stopped a She never I the floor, aeed her t d murmur he never had been anxious before about her oilettc uud the services of the faithful Anue. iaJy Sylvia had spent a miserable week. A V Blvthe to hi ''-'*-''' ^ — '' seemed a thousand years rather ; and and tlierefore h t yourself up ud iiow it is. Yoi >ne of you catch done; you're al II lot of sparrow GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. 81 talking about,' ulifference. jhnny, regardini ng his white tie Balfour stoppin; days in the mid othing. Then il sd he would conii id. Well, I won )ught she was i I suppose it'i a that |)ortentous period had to be got through uniehow, she had mostly devoted it to reading 11(1 re-reading six letters she had received from iondoii, until every i)hruse and every word of hose precious and secret documents was on- raven on her memory. She had begun to rea- ou with herself, too, about her hatred of the luuse of Commons. She tried hard to love that (ihle institution ; she was quite sure, if only her an intinite relief when he went on toward Mrs. Blythe. She was glad, too, when she saw that he was to take his hostess in to dinner. Had they heard of this secret, might they not, as a sort of blunder- ing coinplimcnt, have asked him to take her in ? As it was, she fell to the lot of a German gentle- man, who knew very little English, and was anx- ious to practice what little he knew, but who very soon gave up the attempt on finding his companion about tlie most silent and reserved person whom he had ever sat next at dinner. He was puzzled, indeed. She was an earl's daughter, and presum- [ither would take her over to Ballinascroon, she j ably had -seen something of society. She had a ivould be in youi •'•'i'JUs dangers and discomforts of that wild en- know when yon , mean misthicf -royal to-night- t a grocer 1" •rpnsc. \iid now she was about to meet him, and a at dread possessed her lest her relatives should iscovcr her secret. Again and again she pictured h familiarity an( was tall and slcn I, just over seven lost mature am had large dark s of black hall how her shape lid have painted pinker; a chii i'ith the soft con ainly very unlili and expression ould go into every house, and shake hands with le people, ^md persuade tlicni to let Mr. Balfour main their representative when the next geu- al election came round ; and slie wondered, loreover, whether, when her lover went away on uit perilous mission of his through the slums of k't'stiniiister, she could not too, as well as he, lit on soiii.-' mean attire, and share with him the ladv whom Mas ' lierself the forth-eoniiiig interview, and her only ilVty seemed to be in preserving a cold demean- ! to drive the fan ' ""^ '^ pertoct .-iiience, so that she should escape iwing-room. Sh^ )nlc, with painte aiae of being suspected The lilythes lived in a small and rather poorly iniislied house in Dean Street, Park Lane; Lord illowby and his daughter had not far to drive. h^ii they went into the drawing-room. Lady Syl- uiaied scarcely look around ; it was only as she ;is being effusively welcomed by her aunt that 10 became vaguely aware that Mr. Balfour was jt there. Strange as it may ai)pear, his absence eiiied to her a quick and glad relief. She was ixious, perturbed, eager to escape from a scru- and serious • thii '." o" '''*^ P'"''' "^ 1"^'' I'elatives, which : he more oraetical life' aiic *'^ half expected. But when she had sliakcii ip retreated some ""^^ ^^'i^'' them all, and when the two or tliree isitive look to t'.i< rangers present began to talk those staccato Ivthe's under lip munonplaces which break the frigid silence be- a ehcrrv and was i'*^ dinner, she was in a measure left to herself ; ipei ik and "even bold "^ '' ""** ^'"^'^ t''"'^ — •'*>'■ heeding in the least the liundred guinea? uitterof Master Johnny — she began to fear. Had ! already adventured on that Ilaroun-al-Haschid iterprise, and been stopped by a gang of tliievesV ilow hair. Low lere was a great outcry at tliis time about rail- for his sister-ill- ^Y accidents; was it possible that — Or was I to CO on a visit ' merely detained at the House of Commons ? tor came to town '" foi'got that the House does not sit on Wednes- stopped at a pri '-V evenings. Finally the head ^"^ "'"^ standing near the entrance to the room, ice. Major Blvthe iparcntly listening to Master Johnny, when she der brother Loi-d '"'''l * kiiotk at the door below. Tlien slie heard lilt and roseate of ot''fe))s on the narrow staircase which made ills eves a tride "" heart beat. Then a servant announced Mr !d to bo unsteady, »lf"U'"- Her eyes were downcast ol. He wore dia- ^"^^ Balfour, as he came in, ought to have pass- id •" and he wai ''*■''" '** if she had been a perfect stranger, and ton who was then '"f on and addressed himself, iirst of all, to his Orton at all, bu#st?£-s "■' ' " "" ••"=■- -' '"■ ■ '=•■ ■ for the youugei But he did nothing of the kind. pale, interesting, beautiful face and thoughtful eyes; she must have received enough attention in her time. Was she too proud, then, he thought, to bother with his broken phrases y The fact was, that tliroughout that dinner the girl had eyes and ears but for one small group of people — her cousin and Balfour, who were sitting at the further corner of the table, ajiparently much interested in each other. If Lady Sylvia was silent, the charge could not be brought against Ilonoria Blythe. That young lady was as glib a chatterer as her brotlier. She knew every thing that was going on. With the bright audacity of seventeen, she gossiped and laughed, and address- ed merry or deprecating glances to her compan- ion, who sat and allowed himself to be amused with much good-humored couiiiess. What were poor Sylvia's serious efforts to attain some knowl- edge of public affairs compared with this tliieiit familiarity which touched upon every thing at home and abroad ? Sylvia had tried to get iit the rights and wrongs of a ((uestion then being talked about — tlie propriety of allowing laymen to preach in Church of England pulpits : now she heard her cousin treat the whole affair as a joke. Tliere was nothing that that young lady did not know something about; and she chatted on with an artless vivacity, sometimes making fun, sometimes gravely appealing to him for information. Had he heard of the old lady wlio became insane in the Horticultural Gardens yesterday V Of course he was going to Christie's to-morrow; they ex- ected that big landscape would fetch twelve What a shame it was for Lim- erick to treat Lord and Lady Spencer so! She positively adored Mr. I'limsoll. What icoiild peo- ple say if the Shah did really bring three of his wives to England, and would they all go about with him ? Poor Sylvia listened, and grew sick at heart. Was not this the sort of girl to interest and amuse a man, to cheer him when he was fatigued, to en- ter into all his projects and understand him? Was slie not strikingly handsome, too, this tall girl with the heavy-lidded eyes and the clierry mouth and the full round chin curving in to the shapely neck? She admitted all these things to herself; but she did not love her cousin any the more. She grew to think it shameful that a young girl should make eyes at a man like that. Was she not calling the attention of the whole table to herself and to him ? Her talking, her laughing, "How do you do, Lady Sylvia?" said he, and i tlie appealing glances of those audacious black ! stopped and shook hands with her. 1 Willowbv was »t ^^^ never saw him at all. Her eyes were fixed chair iu o.room it ' ^'"-' floor, and she did not raise them. But she ening paper whilt?*'*'' '"^'' fumbling hand in his for a moment, room anxious aiH''^ murmured something, and then experienced eyes — all these things sank deeper and deeper into the heart of one silent observer, who did not seem to be enjoying herself much. As for Balfour, he was obviously amused, and doubtless he was pleased at the flattering attcn< 8S GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. tion which this fascinating young lady paid him. He had found himself seated next her by acci- dent; but as she was apparently so anxious to talk to him, he could not well do otherwise than neglect (as Lady Sylvia thought) Mrs. Blythe, whom he had actually tak(;i) in to dinner. And was it not clear, too, that he spoke in a lower voice than she did, as though he would limit their convei'sation to themselves? Wliuii she asked him to tell them all that was thought among po- litical folks of tlic radical victories at the French elections, why should he address the answer to herself alone ? And was it not too bhamcless of this girl — at least so Lady Sylvia thought — who ought to have been at school, to go on pretending that she was greatly interested in General Dor- regaray, the King of Sweden, and such persons, merely tiiat she should show off her knowledge to an absolute straiigor? Lady Sylvia sat tlicrc, with a sense of wrong and humiliation burning into her heart. Not once, during the whole of that dinner, did he ad- dress a single word to her ; not once did he even look toward Iter. All his attention was monopo- lized by that bold girl who sat beside him. And this was the man who, but a few daj-s before, had been pretending that he cared for nothing in the world so much as a walk through Willowl)y Park with the mistress thereof; who had then no thought for any thing but herself, no words or looks for any one but her. Lady Sylvia was seated near the door, and when the lailies left the room, she was one of the first to g(». Von would not have imagined that inidcr- neitli that sweet and gracious carriage, which cliarr.ii.'d all beholders except one ungrateful young man, there was luirniug a fierce lii'o of wrong anil shame aiul indignation. She walked into the drawing-room, and went into a further corner, and took a book — on the open pa.;^'. ;)f which siie did not see a single word. Tiio men came in. IJaU'our went over, and took a seat l)eside her. " Well, Sylvia," said he, liglitly, " I suppose you won't stay here long. I am anxious to introduce j you to Lady ; and tliere is to be a whole batch of Indian or AtfTiian princes there to-night — their i costumes make such a ditferenco in a room. When | do you think you will go?" She hesitated ; her heart was full ; had they been alone, she would probably have bni-st into tears. As it was, he never got any answer to his question. A tall young lady came sweeping by at the moment. " Mr. Balfour," she said, with a sweet smile, " will you open the piano for me ?" And again Lady Sylvia sat alone and watched the.se two. He stood i)y the side of the piano as the long tapering fingers — Honoiia had beauti- fully formed hands, every one admitted — began to wander over the keys ; and the dreamy music that i)egan to fill the silence of the room seemed to lend something of imagination and pathos to a face that otherwise had little in it beyond merely physical beauty. She played well too ; with perfect self-possession ; her touch was light, and on these dreamy passages there was a rippling as of fall- ing water in some enchanted cave. Then down went both hands with a crash on the keys ; all the air seemed full of cannonading and musketry fire ; her finely formed bust seemed to have the delight of physical exercise in it as those tightly sleeved and shapely arms banged this way and that ; those beautiful lips were parted somewhat with her breathing. Lady S}lvia did not think much of her cousin's playing. It was coarse, theatrical, all for display. But she had to con- fess to herself that Honoria was a beautiful girl, who promised to become a beautiful woman ; and what wonder, therefore, if men were glad to re- gard her, now as she sat upright there, with the fire and passion of her playing lending something of heroism and inspiration to her face t That men should: yes, that was right enough; but that this one man should — that was the bit ter thing. Surely he had not forgotten that it was but one week since she had assigned over to him the keeping of her whole life ; and was this the fashion in which he was showing his grati- tude ? She had looked forward to this one even. ing with many happy fancies. She would see him ; one look would confirm the secret between them. All the torturing anxieties of absence woidd be banished so soon as she could rc-assnre her.self by hearing his voice, by feeling the press- ure of his hand. She had thought and dreameij of this evening in the still woodland ways, tnitil her heart beat rapidly with a sense of her com- ing hiipjiiness; and now this disappointment wu) too bitter. She could not bear it. She went over to her father. " Papa," she said, " I wi.sh to go. Don't let me take you ; I can get to the hotel by myself — ' (bat coold was a bitti when the n mle and tii leautiful, s bat she sfa WiUowbyE r len ".Mv liear child," said he, with a stare, "I le and Ann BALromi rd VVillo« lidding him still whe ,ext mornin "What ii mazement. "You ouf I can not t ad some qu "A quarn bether his im. "Well," 81 )n't know, lough I knc )ing to Lad, g would do Oh, this i id Balfour. ust be clea why, shall ' u will be b Lord Willo m( thought you jjartictdarly wanted to go to House, after what Balfour told you about tli( staircase and the llowers- " I — I have a headache," said the girl. " I am tireil. Please let me go by myself, papa." "Not at all, child," said" he." " I will go when ever you like." Then she besought him not to draw attentioi to their going. She woidd privately bid good night to Mrs. Hlythe; to no one else. If he cam out a couple of seconds after she left the room he would find her waiting. " Y o TO self on the bed, and burst into a ^\ild fit of cryin '"S 'h«' hei and sotibing, the letters being clutched in li O'lW Jo ai hand as if they, at least, were one posseesio dragged patient lov( no to ingra icn they di ill improve and anxic rt of his s rd Willowl I to have king more It in the c( should which wealth ? pie, how CO this project IS of New fas a certi w York wo I land for tl ■lid bo enor I heard tly. 'Well.wha OBEEN PASTURES AND PICOADILLT. as this way and ted somewhat did not tliiuk t was coarse, le had to con- beautiful girl, il woman ; and jre glad to re- there, with the ling Homething lacey I right enough ; at was the bit- rgottcn that itl ssigned over to] ; and was tliia iwing his graii- this one even- Hhe would seel secret between ies of absence 1 could re-asstire] jcling the prePS- lit and dreamcil land ways, uiitill nse of her com- ppointment was iiat conld not be token away from her. That fu a bitter night— never to be forgotten ; and vhen the next day came, she went down — with a die and tired face, and with darlc rings under the beautiful, sad eyes— and demanded of her father bat she should be allowed at once to return to f iUowby HaU, her maid alone accompanying her. CH>J>TEB X. BIFENTANOB. BALFOtm was astounded when he learned that ..rd \Villowby and his daughter had left without lidding him good-by ; and he was more astound- still when he found, on calling at their hotel lext morning, that Lady Sylvia had gone home. "What is the meaning of itV" said he, in lazement. "You ought to know," said Lord Willowby. I can not tell you. I supposed she and you had lad some quarrel." "A quarrel!" he cried, beginning to wonder hcther his reason had not altogether forsaken im. " Well," said his lordship, with a shrug, " I m't know. She would come home last night, luugh I knew she had been looking forward to iiig to Lady 's. And, this morning, noth- g would do but that she must get home at once. e and Anne started an hour ago." " Oh, this is monstrous — this is unendurable," id Balfour. "There is some mistake, and it ust be cleared up at once. Come, Lord Wil- wby, shall we take a run down into Surrey V m will be back by four or five." Lord Willowby did not like the notion of be- g dragged down into Surrey and back by an patient lover; but he was very anxious at this ' T i\7 j.wf .r.wMB'ie to ingratiate himself with Balfour. And vaieiv iiiu h""" .u„„ ,i!,i „„, „,.» L„ ti,„,„.i,» i.„ „;..i,t ) go. Don't IcJ tel by myself — "| ilh a stave, lI to go to 1 you about tti(| the gill. " I an L'lf, papa." " I will go when draw attention len they did set out, he thought he might as ill improve the occasion. Balfour was disturb- and anxious by this strange conduct on the rt of his sweetheart; and he was grateful to ird Willowby for so promptly giving hiin his 1 to have the mystery cleared up. He was king more than usual. What wonder, then. It in the course of conversation Lord VVillow- should incidentally allude to the opportiuii- s which a man of means had of multiplying wealth ? If he had a few thousands, for ox- ple, how could he better dispose of them than this project for the buying of land in the sub- s of New York ? It was not a speculation ; as a certainty. In 1880 the population of w York would be two millions. Tlie value of land for the building of handsome boulevards Id be enormously increased. And so forth. 'I heard you were--in that," said Balfour, ly. }|Wen, what do you think of it?" said Lord lowby, with some eagerness. I don't know," answered the younger man, ently looking out of the window. " I don't ik there is any certainty abouu it. I fancy Americans have been overspending and over- And then lii *'''^8 *•' f^ome time back. If that land were ite she threw he 1"° " TO"r hands, and you had to go on * . incr t\%A lioaw aaaAaamanta thou else. If ho cam he left the room ilfoiiv," said I.di llv disappointed k-,"" .«ai(l Lady Sy igaged— he won' dd boon ordeiiH V in getting ba ily Sylvia did ii' now, papa," sai| J. i looked at her, lie concern, " yoj atter with you V" 1 tired a little, an| it, papa but not to slec or maid, and loc ;)ut a small packi same man? Sti icart growing son irs came over hi •e, a wild fit of cryii g clutched in sre one posseesU ing the heavy asBesnments they ley out there, ould JO an uncommonly awkward thing for " Tou toke rather a gloomy view of things thia morning," said Lord Willowby, with one of hia fierce and suddenly vanishing smiles. " At any rate," said Balfour, with some firm« ness, " it is a legitimate transaction. If the peo- ple want the land, they will have to pay your price for it : that is a fair piece of business. I wish I could say as much — you will forgive my frankness — about your Seven per Cent. Invest- ment Association." His lordship started. There was an ugly im- plicatiou in the words. But it was not the first time be bftd bad to practice patience with thi» Scotch boor. " Come, Balfour, you are not going to prophe- sy evil all round ?" "Oh no," said the •younger man, carelessly. " Only I know you can't go on paying seven per cent. It is quite absui-d." "My dear fellow, look at the foreign loans that are paying their eight, ten, twelve per cent.—" " I suppose you mean the South American re- publics." " Look how we distribute the risk. The fail- ure of one particular investment might ruin the individual investor: it scarcely touches the As- sociation. I consider we are doing an immense service to all those people throughout the country who will try to get a high rate of interest for their money. Leave them to themselves, and they ruin themselves directly. We step in, and give them the strength of cc-operation." "I wish your name did not appear on the Board of Directors," said Balfour, shortly. Lord Willowby was not a very sensitive per- son, but this rudeness caused hi:^ sallow face to flush somewhat. What, then : must ho look to the honor of his name now that this sprig of a merchant — this tradesman — had done him the honor of proposing to marry into his family? However, Lord Willowby, it' he had a temper like other people, had also a great deal of prudence and self-control, and there were many reasons why he should not quarrel with this blunt-spoken young man at present. They had not remembered to telegraph for the carriage to meet them ; so they had to take a fly at the station, and await patiently the slow rum- bling along the sweetly scented lanes. As they neared the Hall, Balfour was not a little per- turbed. This was a new and a strange thing to him. If the relations between himself and his recently found sweetheart were liable to be thus suddenly and occultly cut asunder, what possible rest or peace was there in store for either ? And it must be said that of all the conjectures he made as to the cause of this mischief, not one got even near the truth. Lady Sylvia was sent for, and her father dis- creetly left the young man alone in the drawing- room. A few minutes afterward the door was opened. Balfour had been no diligent student of women's faces ; but even he could tell that the girl who now stood before him, calm and pale and silent, had spent a wakeful night, and that her eyes had been washed with tears ; so that his first impulse was to go forward and draw her to- ward him, that he might hear her confession with his arms around her. But there was something unmistakably cold and distant in her manner that forbade his approach. u GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLT. " Sylvia," he cried, " what is all tbia about ? your father fancies you and I have quarreled." " No, we have not quarreled," she said, simply ; but there was a tired look in her eyes. " We have only misunderstood each other. It is not worth talking about." He stared at her in amazement. "I hear papa outside," she said; "shall we join him ?" But this was not to be borne. He went for- ward, took her two hands firmly in his, and said, with decision, " Come, Sylvia, we are not children. I want to know why you loft last night. I have done my best to guess at the reason, and I have failed." " You don't know, then V" she said, turning the pure, clear, innocent eyes, on his face with a look tliat had not a little indignation in it. It was well for him tliat he could meet that straight look without flinching. "I give you my word of honor," said he, with obvious surprise, " that I haven't the remotest notion in the world as to what all this means." " It is nothing, then 5"' said she, warmly, and she was going to proceed with her charge, when her pride rebelled. She would not speak. She would not claim that which was not freely given. Unfortunately, however, when she would fain have got away, he had a tight grip of her hand ; and it was clear from the expression on tiiis man's face that he meant to have uu explanaliun there and then. So he held her until she told him the whole story — the red blood tingling in her cheek tiie Willie, and her bosom heavin^i; with that struggle between love and wounded pride. He waited until HJie had spoken the very last word, and then lie let her hands fall, and stood silent before her for a second or two. "Sylvia," said he, slowly, "this is not merely a lover's qunrrel. This is more serious. I could not have imagined that you knew so Httle about me. You fanoy, then, that 1 am a fresh and iii- genuous youth, ready to have niy head turned if a school-girl looks at me from under long eye- lashes ; or, worse still, a philanderer — a professor of the tine art of flirtation. Well, that was not my reading of invL^elf. I fancied I had come to man's est-jite, 1 fancied I had some serious work to do. 1 fancied I knew a little about men and women — at least I never imagined that any one would suspect me of being imposed on by a girl in her first sea. on. Amused? — certainly I was amused — I ivas cven delighted by such a show of pretty and artless innocence. Could any thing be prettier than a girl in her first season assum- ing the airs of a woman of the world ? could any thing be more interesting than that innocent chatter of lioisV though I could not make out whether she had caught the trick of it from her brother, or whether she had imparted to that precocious lad some of her universal information. £ut now it appears I was playing the part of a guileless youth. I was dazzled by the fascination of the school-girl eyes. Gracious goodness I why wasn't my hair yellow and curly, that I might have been painted as Cupid ? And what would the inhabitants of Balliuascroon say if they were told that was my character ?" He spoke with bitter emphasis. But this man Balfour went on the principle that serious ills needed prompt and Lerious remedies. " Presented to the Town-Hall of Tiallinascroon,' he continued, with a scornful laugh, " a portraji of H. Balfour, M.l'., in (he character of a phiL derer I The author of this flattering and origii likeness — Lady Sylvia Blythe !" The girl could stand this no longer. She bui into a wild tit of crying and sobbing, in the midei of which he put his arms round her, and hush, ed her head against his breast, and bade her quiet. " Come, Sylvia," said he, " let us have done will this nonsense at once and forever. If you until I give you real cause for jealousy — if yoi have no other unliappiness than that — your lifi will be a long and fairly comfortable one. N speaking to you all through dinner t Did you c pect me to bawl across the table, when you kuoi very well your first desire was to conceal froi those people the fact of our being engaged Listening to no one but her ? I hadn't a chance She chattered from one end of the dinner to thi other. But really, Sylvia, if I were you, I wouii fix upon jome more formidable rival — " " Please don't scold me any mora," said slii with a fresh fit of crying. " I am not scolding you," he said. " I am talking common-sense to you. Now dry yoi eyes, and promise not to be foolish any more, a come out into the garden." After the rain the sunshine. They went oi arm in arm, and she was clinging very closely him, and there was a glad, bright, blushing huj piness on her face. Now this was the end of their first trouble, ai it seemed a very small and trivial affair when was over. The way was now clear before the There wore to be no more misunderstanding But Mr. Hugh Balfour was a practical persoj not easily led away by beautiful unticipatio: and the more he pondered over the matter, those moments of (juiet reflection that followed ' evenings at the House, the more he became c vinced that the best guarantee against the rec rcnce of misunderstandings and consequent tr ble was marriage. He convinced himself that inunediate marriage, or a marriage as early as cial forms would allow, was not only desirab] but necessary ; and so clear was his hue of arj ment that he never doubted for a moment that it would at once convince Lady Sylvia. But his arguments did not at all convince I Sylvia. On the contrary, this proposal, wlii was to put an end to the very possibility of ble, oidy landed them in a further trouble, he, being greatly occupied at the time — the 1' liamentary session having got on into June mitted the imprudence of making this suggest! in a letter. Had iie been down at Willowby Hi walking with Lady Sylvia in the still twilight, w the stars beginning to tell in the sky and the i beginning to gather along the margin of the I he might have had another answer ; but now wroU- to him that in her opinion so serious a s as marriage was not to be adventured upon i hurry; and she added, too, with some pardona pride, that it was not quite seemly on his par point out how they could make their honey-ui trip coincide with the general autumn holi( Was their marriage to anpear to be a merely t lorely fati limself. I iveuing; h ir; as he for having w the lei ) somewh m — a tei) nation gi light soor itter and rieuMU ( be ttie c( intion to t iction in ii iw temper insitive pr Then the [romptedhi iur.se /le w the san: Itely but fin lie among t it renderei making i ■oscopic nil w no reaso lose of the .' ir the opinii tlioarraiigi 1" the discov y other wa 'I't the vie\ irth. It wt tie of arg>-ni see her vrv But to the I e country tl cl it seeiiH' thdrawn e world a fie was down and ivds : "Dearest! ither than , Probably, ce, lie won i generous tantly refii ! of feeling oad. rts try to perilous via began t 3 due to m unmaid so all-imp idJiug day ' y were wa iy got mar le was far le in which i^day of he io she ans Triage, she ial or accidental thing, waiting for its accompl ,j . .. ' ment until Parliament should be prorogued? He got the letter very late one night, ' aen he ; but cLe ( wjdding J Ttellinascroon," igh, " a portrait !ter of a philan- ing, in the midel 1 her, and hush and bade her h er. if you wai jealousy — if yoi 1 that — your lif itable one. No lerV Did you CI 1, when you knoi to coneeal frou being engaged GREEN PASTURES AND PTCOADILLT. M lorely fatigued, harassed, and discontented with limsell. He had lost his temper in the House that . . . j svening; he had been called to order oyHr. Speak- ing and origuul ^. ^g jjg talked home he was reviling himself or having been betrayed into a rage. When he "^!?'"i» *v!! ^""1 a'' ^^^ '®"^'" 'y'"S <*" ^^^ **^'^' he brightened ip somewhat. Here, at least, would be consola- ion — a tender message — perhaps some gentle in- imution given that the greatest wish of his heart night soon he realized. Well, he opened the s have done witl ^^^^J ^„^ ^^^j ;^ j^ie disappointment he ex- lorienf id doubtless exaggerated what he took a be the coldness of its terms. He paid no at- ention to the real and honest expressions of af- iction in it; he looked only at her refusal, and aw temper where there was only .a natural and ensitive pride. Then the devil took possession of him, and rompted liim to write in reply there and then. Of hadn't a chancf |,„pj,g /^g would not show temper, being a man. the dinner to tli fere you, I woul rival—" mora," said sb said. " I am onl ish any more, an . They went w ,ng very closely vial affair when dear before the nisunderstaudii) , practical perse 11 the same, he felt called on to point out, po- tely but firmly, that marriage was, after all, only lie among the many facts of life ; and that it was ot rendered any more sublime and mysterious y making it the occasion for a number of mi- ' roscopic martyrdoms and petty sacrilices. He Now dry )o« ^^ ^^^ reason wiiy the opportunity oifered by the ose of the session sho\ild not be made use of ; as »r the opinion of other people on the seemlincss ' the arrangement, she would have to be prepared - I ' "' tl'c Uiscovevy that neither on that point nor on rht, blushmg hai ^y of,,^,. „..,^ |,g lij-^iy jo shape his conduct to eet the views of a mass of strangers. And so ir first Jtrouble,aii ^^ti, it was a perfectly sensible letter. The le of ariT'Mnent was clear. How could she fail see her error ? But to the poor fluttering heart down there in e country these words came with a strange chill ; tiful anticipation ,(j ■^^ g^jemod to her that her lover had suddeidy ver the matter, jn that followed ' re he became co i against the reci id consequent tro ;ed himself that •iage as early as not only desirab as his line of aig for a moment I) J Lady Sylvia, it all convince La possibility of tri rther trouble, the time — the T on into June king this suggest n at Willowby H ic still twilight, w the sky and the u Q margin of the la nswer ; but now lion so serious a s [Iventured upon ith some pardona thdrawn from her to a great distance, leaving e world around her dark enough. Her first im- Ise was to utter a jiiteous cry to him. She t down and wrote, with trembling fingers, these )rds : " De.\rest Huuh, — Tioill do whatever you phase, ther than have you write to me like that. " SVLVIA." Probably, too, had she sent off this letter at ce, he would have been struck by her simple . d generous self-abnegation, and he would have lis proposal, win it^ntly refused to demand from her any sacri- e of feeling whatsoever, ikit then the devil was road. Te generally is about when two sweet- avts try to arrange some misunderstanding by perilous process of correspondence. Lady Ivia began to recollect that, after all, something s due to her womanly pride. Would it not im unmaidenly thus to surrender at discretion so all-important a point as the fixing of the dding day ? She would not have it said that :y were waiting for Parliament to rise before ly got married. In any case, she thought the le was far too short. Moreover, was this the 10 in which a man should ask a woman to fix seemly on his par . j^y ^f her marriage ? ke their honey-m iral autumn holi( ir to be a merely Id be prorogued ? me night, 'ueahs lo she answered the letter in another vtin. If rriage, she said, was only one of the ordinary ts of life, she at least did not regard it in that ig for its accompl i,t ^t all. ' She cared for tittle-tattle as little as ; but cl.<) did not like the appearance of having '. w;;dding trip arranged as if it were an excur- sion to Scotland for grouse-Bhooting. And so forth. Her letter, too, was clever — very clerer indeed, and sharp. Her face was a little flushed as she sealed it, and bade the servant take it to the post-ofiice the first thing in the morning. But apparently that brilliant piece of composition did not afford her much satisfaction afterward, for she passed the night, not iu healthful sleep, but in alternate fits of crying and bitter thinking, UO' til it seemed to her that this new relationship into which she had entered with such glad anticipa- tions was bringing her sorrow after sorrow, grief after grief. For she had experienced no more serious troubles than these. When Hugh Balfour received this letter he was in his bedroom, about eight o'clock in the even- ing; and he was dressed for the most part in shabby corduroy, with a wisp of dirty black silk round his neck. His man Jackson had brought up from the kitchen some ashes for the smearing of his hands and face, on the table hard by. A cadger's basket stood CHAPTER XL DE proft:ndis. A MORE rufBanly- looking vagabond than the honorable member for Ballinascroon could not have been found within the area of Loudon on that warm June evening. And yet he seemed fair- ly pleased with himself as he boldly took his way across the Green Park. He balanced his basket jauntily over the dirty seal-skin cap. He whistled as he went. It was his third excursion of the sort, and he was getting to be »iuite familiar with his role. In fact, he was not thinking at all at this moment of tramps' patter, or Covent Garden, or any thing connected with the lodging-house in which he had already spent two nights. He whistled to give himself courage in another direction. Surely it was not for him, as a man of the world, occupied with tiie serious duties of life, and, above all, hard- headc'.l and practical, to be perturbed by the sen- timental fantasy of a girl. Was it not for her interest, as well as his own, that he should firmly hold out y A frank exposition of their relations now would prevent mistakes in the future. And as he could not undertake to piny a Cupid's part, to become a philanderer, to place a mysterious value on moods and feelings wliich did not corre- spond witti the actual facts of life, was it not wiser that he should plainly declare as much ? And yet this scoundrell)'-looking hawker de- rived but little consolation from his gay whistling. He could not but think of Lady Sylvia as she wrote the lettev now in his pocket ; and in his in- most consciousness he knew what that tender- hearted girl must have sulfcieil in penning the cold, proud lines. She had none of his pressing work in which to escape from the harassing pain of such a discussion. He guessed that weary days and sleepless nights were the result of such letters as that he now carried with him. But then, she was in the wrong. Discipline was whole- some. So he continued his contented trudge and his whistling. He crossed St. James's Park, passed through Queen Anne's Gate, and finally plunged into a labyrinth of narrow and squalid streets and lanea 86 OlEEH PASTURES AND PICCADILLT. with which he seemed sufficiently familiar. It was not a pieaeant quarter on thia warm night ; the air wa<; clusc and foul ; many of the inhabits uits of the houses — loosely dressed women, for the roost part, who had retreating foreheads, heavy jowls, and a loud laugh that seemed scarcely hu- man — had come out to sit on the door-step or the pavement. There were not many men about. A few hulking youths — bullet-headed, round-shoul- dered, in-kneed — lounged about the doors of the Eublic-houses, addressing each other in tutj most ideous language apropos of nothing. The proprietor of the common lodging-house stood nt the entry iu hiu shirt sleeves. He took no notice of Balfour, except that, on bis approach, he went along the passage and unlocked a door, ad- mitted him, and shut the door agair • this door could not be re-opened on the other siuo, so that there was no chance of a defaulter sneaking off in the night without paying his fourpence. Bal- four went up stairs. The doors of the various rooms and the rickety little windows were all wide open. Til'- beds — of coarse materials, certainly, but clean — were all formally made. There was not a human being in the place. He had a room to himself — about eight feet square, with two beds in it. Ue placed his basket on the bed ; and then went down stairs again, and out into the back yard. The only occupant of the yard was a grizzled and feeble old man, who was at this niument performing his ablutions in the lavatory, which consisted of three pails of dirty water standing on a bench in an open shed. The man dried his face, turned, and looked at Balfour with a pair of keen and ferrety eyes, said nothing, and walked otf into the kitchen. Balfour was left in sole occupation of the yard, with its surround- ings of tumble-down out-houses and diliipidated bi'ick walls. He lit a pipe, and sat down on a bench. It was not a good time of the year for these re- searciies, the precise object of which he had for- merly exp'\ined to Lady Sylvia. The summer weather draivs tran)ps, hawkers, and other branch- es of oiir nomadic population into the country, where they ''an cadge a bit for food, and where, instead of having to pay for a bed in a hot room, they CB" sleep comfortably enough beneath an empty (.■ or by a hedge-vow, or in a new drain- pipe. Nv.-vertheles9, a good many strange people turned into this lodging-house of a night ; and Bal- four, on his first appearance, had rather ingratiated himself with them by pretending to have had a drop too much, and insisting on standing beer all round. As he muttered his.determination to fight any man who refused to drink with him — and as there was a brawny and bony look about the build of his shoulders — the various persons present overcame their natural modesty, and drank the beer. Thereafter the new-comer ip^apsed into a gloomy silence ; sat on a bench in a^mer which was hidden in shadow ; and doubi>ess most of his companions, as they proceeded to talk of their experiences of unions, guardians, magistrates, and the like — the aristocracy, of course, preferring to talk of the money they had made in Iby-gone times, when their particular trade or lay had not been overrun with competition — imagined he was asleep. On the following night he was well received ; and now he entered a little more into conversa- tion with them, his share in it being limited to occasional questions. But there was one man there who, from the very first, regarded him with suspicion ; and he knew that from the way in which this roan followed him about with his watchfull eyes. This was an old roan called Fiddling Jack, who, with a green shade over his eyes, went about Larobeth as a blind roan, accompanied by lm| daughter, a child of nine or ten, who played the violin and collected the coppers. Whether hial care of the child was parental or merely prude tial, he always brought her back to the lodging- house, and sent her to tied by nine o'clock; th rest of the evening he spent in the great kitchen, smoking a black clay pipe. From the very fiisi Balfour knew that this old man suspected somi thing ; or was it that his eyes, being guarded f roi the light all day, seemed preternaturally keci when the green shade was removed ? But the man whom Balfour most feared wi another old man, who in former days had bee: the owner of a large haberdashery business ii the King's Road, Chelsea, and who had drun himself down until he now earned his living hi selling evening papers on one of the river pier His brain, too, had given way ; he was now a hall maudlin, amiable, harmless old man, whose tin language and courteous manners hud got for hin the title of " Mr." Now Mr. Sturt excelled ii conversation, and he spoke with great propriet of phrase, so that again and again lialfuur foiiih himself on the point of replying to this old gen tlcnian as he would have done to a member o the House of Commons. In fact, his only siife guard v;ith respect to Mr. Sturt lay in complct silence. But indeed, on this third evening of hia expio rations, his heart was not in his woi k at all. he Talked up and down the squalid yard, oc« sionally noticing a ncw-comor oon;e in, his miii was filled, not with any social or political pnit lem, but v.ith a great compunction and ycainiiij He dared not take Lady Sylvia's letter fi-om lii pocket, but he tried to remember every word in it and he pondered over this and tlie other phini to see if it could not .somehow be construed iiii an expression of affection. Tiun he began t compose his answer to it ; and that, he lieterniinoi would be a complete abandonment of the po.«iti( he had taken up. After all, was not a great d to be granted to the- woman cue loved ? If < was unreasonable, it was only the privilege of sex. In any case, he would argue no longei he would try the effect of a generous Burn der. Having come to this decision, which affordi him some internal comfort, he bethought hinise of his immediate task ; and accordingly he wal ed into the kitchen, where a number of the hd <««« had already assembled. An excess of courtc n„„,j is not the order of the day in a common lodgin „;„,,. " ^""^'^ house, and so he gave no greetmg and receiv |ajs%h none. He sat down on a rickety stool in tl jjjijp^ '"'i^ great dusky den; and while some of the od ^ m'^„] looking folks were having their supper, he lit > ^^ ]{„p!"° other pipe. But he had not sat there five mi ^^^^ ^ " utes when he had formed a distinct opinion tb ^ij j| . ^ * there was an alteration in the manner of th« r the first " WiLLowiiT Hall, Ttutdaff morning, ig^r ambit " Mt dear Mrs. Grace, — I hope you will pai i, of accur don tho liberty I take in sending you these fe^ milered to i lines, but I have just heard how nobly and bravel w, papa," Bald let any thing liities." lid, impatient- at arc liis pub- ic at tlio very lit!" Huid, warmly. iitei at all. I ho will go to ho doos," she lecks, " I know GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. 8ft mil rendered aselstancc, at great risk to yourself, n Mr. liult'our, who Is a paiticular friend of my atiier's and mine, and I thought you would not )« offondcd if I wrote to say how very heartily we liiink you. And will yci please accept from us lie accompanying little parcel? it may remind oil occasionally thut though we have not the ilcaHure of your personal acquaintance, we are nine the less most deeply grateful to you. I am, my dear Mrs. Grace, yours very sin- ^^rely, Sylvia Blytue." iiittle did Ralfour know of the packet which he orwiii'ded to his valiant friend down in West- iiin»tcr; but Hoppiness Alley speedily knew of t, and knows of it to this day. For at great iiiies and seasons, when all the world has gone lit to see the Queen drive to the opening of I'ar- iiiinent, or to look at the ruins of the last great ire, or to we'corae the poor creatures set free by , jiiil delivery, and when Mrs. Grace and her riends have got back to ti.a peace of their own loines, and when pipes have been lit and jugs of le placed on the window-sill to cool, then with a rent pride and vainglory a certain mahogany aaket is produced. And if the uses of a tichii re only to be guessed at by Mrs. Grace and he:' riends, and if the precise value of Valenciennes ) unknown to them, what matters ? It is enough jat all the world should know that this article of ttlre was presented to Mrs. Grace by an euil and n earl's daughter, in proof of which the casket Diitains — and tnis Mrs. Grace regards as the igliest treasure of all — a letter written in the uiy's own hand. She docs not show the letter xi'If. She does not wish to have it fingered bout and dirtied. But at these high tiroes of pstivity, when the lace is taken out with an aw- iil and reverent cure, the envelope of the letter lay at least be exliibited ; and that is stamped ith an earl's coioin't. In due time Bali'our went down to Willowby, nd now at last it seemed as if all the troubles B you are quite nd sorrows of these yo'-.ng people were over. 1 the various glad preparations for the event ) which they both looked forward, a generous niinimity of feeling prevailed. Each strove to utdo the other ir. conciliation. And Lady Syl- ia's father smiled benignly on the pair, for he ad just borrowed £300 from Balfour to meet sr, with a smile, ,n, and tell him ! glad enough, a house in this see about that I August ? At jupic of fools." ttticntly. t! What more in Piccadilly? le place. And wn here — ro9C3 DO clock and a ly man to throw isiml interest in wiis inevely be. !• use he could le young people lylvia, valiantly, be some retreat 8 of public life? iiUy? Surely it I have a house in 1 ; and of course ' I could like as 5ht — as I always ter," said her fa n, and sat down prote to Balfour She had nevei for her presumiv Then she wish»i nd the only thinf ir lace was aboui Lady Sylvia pes wn undertaking and she seeraec ome little pre^jsing emergency. It was a halcyon time indeed, for the year was and she did not t its fulles'. and sweetest, and the member for allinascroon was not hampered by the services rendered to his constituents. One brilliant line day after another shone over the fair Sur- !y landsc ipes ; beech, ash, and oak were at their roenest ; the sunlight warmed up the colors of 10 pink chestnut and the rose-red hawthorn, and would have said ureet winds played about the woods. They drove vant." Had shi > pictures-iue spots in that line of hill that forms ive shouted witl le backbojie of Surrey ; they made excursions mting that doiiii » olJ-fashiimed little hamlets on the Thames; inster slums witl igether they rode over the wide commons, where But Lady Sylvii le scent of the gorse was strong in the air. Bal- it ; and at lengtl mr wondered no longer why Sylvia should love out of the ingen lia peaceful and secluded life. Under the gla- lour of her presence idleness became delightful )r the first time in the existence of this busy, IHiesdaif morning, jger, ambitious man. All his notions of meth- lope you will pai i, of accuracy, of common-sense even, he sur- ng you these fe' nobly and bravet nilered to this strange fascination. To be un- reasonable was a virtue in a woman, if it wa.f Lady Sylvia who was nnroasonal le. He laughed with pleasure one evening when, in a strenuous argument, she stated that seven times seven wcro fifty-six. It would have been stupid in a servant to have spilled her ten, but it was pretty when Lady Sylvia's small wrist was the ciiiiso of that misha|t. And when, with her serious, timid eyes grown full of feeling, sho pleaded the cause of the poor sailor sent to sea in rot ton ships, he felt himself ready then to go into the House and out- Plimsoll Plimsoll in his enthusiasm on behalf of so good a cause. It was not altogether love in iillencss. They had their occupations. First of all, she spent nearly n whole week in town choosing wall-col- ors, furniture, and pictures for that house in Pic- cadilly, though it was with a great shyness she w.-nt to the various places and expressed her opinion. During that week she saw a good deal more of London and of London life than com- monly came within her experience. For one thing, she had the trembling delight of listening, from behind the grill, to Balfour making a short speech in the House. It was a terrible ordeal for her; her heart throbbed with anxiety, and sho tore a pair of gloves into small pieces unknow< ingly. But as she drove home she convinced herself with a high exultation that there was no man in the House looked so distinguished as that one, that the stamp of a great statesman was visible in the square forehead and in the firm mouth, and that if the House knew as much as she knew, it would be more anxious to listen for those words of wisdom which were to save the nation. Balfour's speech was merely a few ri marks made in committee. They were not of gr.'al importance. But when, next morning, sho eageily looked in the newspaper,-!, and found what he had said condensed into a sentence, she was in a wild rage, and declared to her father that public men were treated shamefully in this country. That business of refurnishing the house in Piccadi"^ had been done perforce; it was with a far greater satisfaction that she set about dec- orating and preparing a spacious cottage, called The Lilacs, which was set in the midst of a pretty garden, some three miles from Willowby Park. Here, indeed, was pleasant work for her, and to her was intrusted the whole management of the thing, in Balfour's necessary absence in town. From day to day she rode over to see how the workmen were getting on. She sent up busi- ness-like reports to London. And at lust she gently hinted that he might come down to see what had been done. " Will you ride over or drive?" said Lord Wil- lowby to his guest, after breakfast that morning. "I am sure Mr. Balfour would rather walk, papa," said Lady Sylvia, " for I have di-scovored a whole series of short-cuts that I want to show him — across the fields. Unless it will tire you, papa y" " It won't tire me at all," said Lord W^illowby, with great consideration, "for I am not going. I have letters to write. But if you walk over, you must send Lock to the cottage with tho horses, and ride back." Although they were profoundly disappointed the: Lord Willowby could not accompany them, they set out ou their walk with an assumed cheer- 40 URKRN I'ASTUREU AND PICCADILLY. fulnoii wliloh MAtnud to ooncual their inward grief. It wttH July now ; bu' the inorninK wuh fresh nntJ cool after the nJKht't rain, and there wan a plouHunt noutliurly breeze blowing the tit>e<;y oloudH Hui'OHM the blue HJty, bo that tlieru wai« un abundance of light, motion, and color all around them. Tiio elniM were ruHllinK and Hwaying in the park ; tlio roolcM were cuwing ; in tdie dls> tance tliey Haw a cloud of yellow Hmolce arive from the roud oh thu frcHh breeze blew ucroBS. Hhe led him away Ity Heuret puthn and wooded lanes, with hero and tliure a stilo to croHS, and hero and thore a HwliiKirif; k'^^^ ^c open. Siie was anxiourt lio Mhould Itnow intimately all the Burroundinfpos- sible ideals was still veiling their oyea — ami we will turn, if vou please, to a very different sort of traveller, wl. . just about the same time was> rid ing aking a cattle trail on the high-lying i.nd golden-yellow plains of Colorado. This was HiK>k. skin Cliarlie, so named from the suit of gray l-uck- skin width lie wore, and which was libi;rall; adorned with loose fringes cut from the leather. Indeed, there was a generally decorative air aouut this herdsman and his accoutrements, which gava him a half Mexican look, though the bright sun tanned complexion, the long light brown hair, and ' the clear blue eyes were not at all Mexican. There waa a brass tip to the high pommel iu front of Into flower bcdi [ie-not8, of wliiti vvctcned all thi ic8, and of whiti Hti'oiig point oj tH roBes. Then sheH in the vurl- walls, roses in icd when the old 0. " I'll tell you aid her compan- were telling ui t von Rosen. 1 needed to maki ing one ; but nil t a vast amount n was delighted ill the bare niatfr lad only seen in ingcd. As the; rooms, they did ■ dou)>tless their irawing picturei ipeud there, igs cost nionej, e drawing upon ather astonished own accustomed my of the young irk in the firm ot opening the Ict- Iiigh Bulfour, in al notice that he cash on the lal irrivcd, the head He did not turn the paper-knift i," Good Lord!" e must have it" August that Hr, croon, was mar daughter of tha all, Surrey; and the happy paii oou in Germany. u! his young and n their wedding lem some slight ivith each other, sopher, rendent imour of in^pos- r oycs — aniJ w» liffercnt sort of le time was rid' high-lying ind This WHS Bu uit of giay buolC' was libiiralij rom the leather. trative air ai>uut ents, which gave the bright sun brown hair, and Mexican. Ther« mel in front of GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. 41 him, round which a luao was coiled. He wore huge wooden stirrups, which looked like salrata J with the hnels cut out. The rowela of his spurs were an i.'tch and a half in diameter. And the wiry little pony he rode bad Iwth mane and tail lung and flowing. It is a pleasant enough morning for a ride, for on these high-lying plains the air is cool and ex- hilurating even in the glare of the sunHliinc. Tlio profipect amund him is pleasant too, though Buck- sl, now in a friend* ly mood, told Buckskin Charlie some things he did not know before about his master. Their conversation, however, was so saturated with Biblical lore that it may be advisable to give here a simpler and plainer history of the owner of Eagle Creek Ranch. To begin with, he was an Englishman. He was latrn in Cumberland, and as a young fellow achieved some little notoriety as a wrestler: in fact, that wea all the work hia parents could get out of him. It was in vain that they paid successive sums to have him ap- prenticed to that business, or made a partner in this; Jack Sloano was simply a ne'er-do-well, blessed with a splendid physique, a high opinion of his own importance, and a distinguished facil- ity in wheedling people into lending him money. Such was his position in England when the rush to California occurred. Here was Jack's oppor- tunity. His mother wept bitter tears when she parted with him ; but nobody else was affected to the same extent. As a gold-digger Jack was a failure, but he soon managed to pick up an amazing knowledge of certain games of cards, insomuch that hia combined luck and skill got for him the compli- mentary title of Five-Ace Jack. Whether he made money or not at this profession does not appear, for at this point there is a gap in his his- tory. When his relatives in England — among whom, I regret to say, was a young lady inci- dentally alluded to in the first chapter of this story — next heard of him he was in Texas, em- ployed at a ranch there. No one ever knew what had made the social atmosphere of San Francis- co rather too sultry for Five-Ace Jack. Then the Pike's Peak craze occurred, in 1869, and once again Jack was induced to join the gen- eral rush. He arrived at Denver just as the bub- ble had burst. He found a huge icultitude of people grown mad with disappointment, threat- ening to burn down the few wooden shanties and canvas tents that then constituted the town, and more especially to hang incontinently an esteem- ed friend of the present writer, who had just is- sued the first numbers of the Rockif Mountain Netm. Then the greot crowd of bunmiers and loafers, not finjing the soil teeming with nug- gets, stampeded off like a herd of buffalo, leav- ing a few hardy and adventurous spirits to ex- plore the neighboring caiions, and find out by hard work whether or not gold existed there in paying quantities. Jack Sloane remained behind also — in Denver. He started what was called a whiskey saloon in a tent, but what was really a convenient little gambling hell for those who had grown reckless. Times grew better. Rumors 42 ORBEN PA8TURES AND PICCADILLY. camo donrn from tlie mountains that tho gulch ami plui'vr minuH wliich hud been opuiivd were giviiifj a full' yield ; huru mid there — uh, fur exam- ple, ill the Clear Creek Cuflou — u vein uf rotten (|iiiirtz hud been Htruek euntaiiiiiiK free gold in sui'|)i'i.sing rieliiie88. Now «i>3 Juek'o time. Ho opened a keno and faro bank in a wooden ahnnty, and he eliarged only ten per eent. on the keno wiiiiiinKri. IIo wuH uii udept at cuehru and poker, and Wilt) alwaya willing to lend a huiid, IiIh chief peoiiiiurity being that he invuriul)ly ehoHO thut side of tiiu table whieli enabled hint to fuee the door, 80 that ho might not be taken unawares by an unfriendly Hhot. He drove a roiiHiiig trade. The miners eame down from " the Roekiett" with their bii^s of gold-dimt ready open to pay for a frolin, and Five-Ace Jack received a liljcral per- centage from the tliree-eard-nionto men who en- tcrtikiiied these innocent folkn. Dut for a sad ocuiilent Jack might have remained at Denver, and become an exemplary member of Bociety. He might have muriied one of tlie young ladies of accommodating manners who had even then managed to wander out to that Western town. He and blie might at the present moment have been regarded as one of the twelve "Old Fami- lies" of Denver, who, beginning for tho most part a.s he began, are now demonstrating their respect- ability by bulMing churches like mad, and by giving balls which, in the favored language of tho place, are described aa " ((uite the toniest things going." But fortune hud a grudge against Jack. There was an ill-favored rascal called Bully Bill, who was coming in from the plains one day, wlun he found two Indians following him. To shoot tirst, and ask the Indians' intentions afterward, was the rule in these parts; and ac- cordingly Bully Bill flrcd, bringing one Indian down, tlie other riding off as hard as he could go. The comtueror tlionght he would have the scalp of his enemy as a proof of his valor ; but he was a bad hand at the business, and as he was slowly endeavoring to get at the trophy, he found that the other Indian liud mustered up courage, and was coining back. There was no time to lose. He simply lieweil the dead Indian's head off, jumped on his pony, and, after an ex- citing chase, reached the town in safety. Tlien he carried the head into Five-Ace .Tack's saloon ; and as there were a few of the boys there, ready for fun, they got up an auction for that ghastly prize. It wa.s knocked down at no less a sum than two hundred dollur.s — a price which so fired the brain of Bully iiill that he went in wildly for playing cards. But Five-Ace Jack never played cards wildly, and ho wa.s of the party. He ob- served that not only did Bully Bill lose steadily, but also that his losses seemed to vex him iimch ; and, in fact, just as the last of the two Iiiindred dollars was disapiiearing, he was surprised and deeply pained to tind that Bidly Bill was trying to cheat. This toudieci Jack's conscience, and ho remonstrated ; wliL'reupon there was a word or two, and then Jack drew his shooter out and shot Bully Bill through the head. Tlicy respect- fully jilaced the boiiy on two chairs, and Jack called for some drinks. This incident ought to have caused no great trouble ; for at that time there was no Union Pacific Railroad Company — a troublesome body, which has ere now impeached judge, jury, and prisoner, all in a lump, for a conspiracy to defeat tho endi of Juiticc, wlicn nemo notorioui cfPender Iiu8 got off icot-frce. Dut Dully Dill had three brothers up in tho mountains ; and Jack was of opinion that, if ho remained in Denver, his niinj would bo troubled with many cures. However, h« hud amassed a good deal of money in th!: gam- bling hell of his ; and so he was ubie to persuade a few of his meaner dependents to strike their tentii along with him, and go out into tho wildorucss, He wandered over the plains until he saw a good pluco for a ranch — not a stock-raising ranch, but a place to accommodate the droves of pilgrims wlio were then slowly and laboriously making their way to tho West. He built Ins ranch about a hundred yards buck from tho wugou route, and calmly awaited custom, But even in these peaceful solitudes, if all sto. ries be true — and we in England heard nothing of Jack Sloane for many years — he did not (piite de- sist from his evil ways. Finding, first of ail, that many of the wagon parties went by without call- ing in at his ranch, he and his men dug a largo pit right across the route, so that the drivers luul perforce to turn aside and come right up to his hostelry. Tlicn ho stationed a blacksmith a niilo or two down the road, for tho greater conven- ience of the travellers, who were always glad to have the feet of their mules and oxen examined. It was very singular, however, that between tho blacksmith's shop and .Jack's ranch so many uf the animals should go lame; but what did that matter, when Jack was willing to exchange a per- fectly fresh team for the tired team, a little con- sideration of money iicing added ? It is true that the lame oxen became rapidly well so soon aa they were left in Jink's possession ; but was not that nil the more lucky for the next comers, who were sure to find soincthiiig wrong with their tennis lietwcen tlie Iducksmith's shop and Eaglo Creek Itaiichy Another peculiarity of this part of the plains was that the neighliorlioud seemed to bo infested with Indians, who, whether they were Utcs or Avinpalioes, showed a surprising knowledge as to which wagon trains were supplied witli the most v.iimble cattle, and never stampeded an indiffer- ent lot. These attacks were made at night, and doubtless the poor travellers, stunned by the yells of the red men and the tiring of guns and re- volvers, were glad to escape witli their lives. But on one occasion, it is rumored, an Indian would appear to have been hurt, for he was heard to exclaim, in a loud voice, " Iloly Jabem ! me fut ! mcful .'" Neither the Utes nor the Arrapahoes, it was remembered, pronounce tho word " foot" in that fashion, even when they happen to know English, and so it came about that always afl/cr that tliere were ugly rumors about Eagle Creek Ranch and the men who lived there. Rut not even the stoutest bull-whacker who ever crossed the plains would dare to say a word on this sub- ject to Five-Ace Jack ; he would have had a bul- let through his head for his jiuins. And now we take leave of "Five-Ace ilack," for in his siihsef|uent history he appears us "Col- onel Sloane," " t!ie Colonel," or " tho boss." As he grew more rich, he became more honest, as has happened in the case of many worthy people. His flocks and his herds increased. He dosed the ranch as a place of entertainment — indeed, people were beginning now to talk of all sorts of other overland routes ; but he made it tho centre ' A vant Btn< iidud with g IS master w «t was ulwn lis MUM a wet iiit corner o lister, and p; ^gones bcin III! or two II line pnssesse ey were no (iiiiised well e cuino und opped at tl ank petroU itili' at thut wtcliy, then ve- Ace Jack IS as briiliai mid iniike it iii'cli with a I'ared to r( ciivcr; ho w s mines, or M'iUmen. It was towa III Judge (ii car, lieiiutifii le goldcn-yel ass anil lloi .yol'Colorad IIS inclosed I iig wall of n uiicly-looki Mitnil purtioi ii'ii the Ind |u'l< and his vui'iiigthep lii'iivy logs laiiclied out siu'ils, pens ilistuiitially )lton wood f lectfully of nstiiig itsel luiltteil, \\o\\ ihit defeats irt of a ho; way, fancies nving to I iSillu of it. Tlie ('oloiic s hogs nor i ' cattle roan 111! long, mil iiiii; the bli L'l'spiration; lutig the CO id all his wi ipi'oaching 1 sympathy, I ss ill laiiguii liii Charlie v liting-dc-k, fiiriiitiire ukiiig a \w\\ oceeded to He was noi e had had tl iti'lope steal imiiig thirst u.-i, on his bi lorioui offender Bill had tlirce nd Jauk wai of vnv«r, IiIh niitid I. Ilowuvor, h« 17 in til!: Kitin- blu to persuade itrikctlivirtvntD tho wildortictH, ho Huw a gooil xing ruiK'h, but vfn of pilgrirai il) milking their runcli ulioiit a igou route, anil tudp», if all sto. pnni nutliing uf lid not i|iiituitc. first of ail, tliiit by without cuii^ ion dug a lurgo tliu di'ivei'H luiii riglit up to Ills it'kHuiith a niilo HieuttT conven- ulwiivH giad to oxiMi examined, at between tlio leli 80 many uf : nluit did tliat im, n iittlc con- It is truetlmt veil so soon an n ; but was not ixt comers, who ong witli their aliop and Euglo rt of the plains il to lie infested ' were Utcs or cnowledge as to I witli tlie most ded an indifTcr- le at niglit, and ncd by the yeils if guns and re- tlieir lives. Jiut n Indian would c was heard to 'abcmf me flit! he ArrapahoeH, le word " foot" uippen to know at always afl^r lut Eagle Creek licrc. lint not lio ever crossed }rd on this sub- liavc had a bul- 1. ^ive-Acc Jack," ppears ns " Col- tlie boss." As nore honest, as wortliy people, ed. He closed iimcnt — indeed, 'x of all sorts of de it the centre OREEN PASTURES AND PIOC.VDILLY. ' a TAUt ftock-rearinR farm, which he siiperin- iidud with great asitiduity. He was an impori- iit luaHter with his herderit — the phynieal force ,al was always ready to give ctTect to his dceitf- iiH was a weaj)on that stuck upriglit in the south- ii*t corner of his trowsers ; but ho was a just ititter, and paid his men punctually. Moreover, r-)((ines being by-gones, he had made an cxciir- im or two up into "the Kockies," and had be- iine possessed of one or two ndnes, which, though ey were now only paying woriiing expenses, (iiiiiHed well. Time Hies fast in the We.Mt; pco- c come and go rapidly. When Colonel Hloano opped at tho (irand Central of Denver, and aiik petroleum-Champagno at four dollars a It ill' lit tliat pretentious, dirty, aiul disagreeible jsii'irv, there was no one to recognize him as ve- Ace Jack. He was cleanly shaved ; his linen iH us lu'iiliant as Chinese skill and Colorado air mill iniiko it; he could have helped to build a uieli witli any of them. Hut somehow ho nev- cMfcd to remain long within tliu precincts of I'livcr; he was eitlier up at Idaho, looking after < mines, or out at tlie ranch, looking after his I' Isuien. It was toward this ranch that Buckskin Charlie il Judge (ircek were now riding, on this cool, I'lir, h)-iiutiful morning. All around tliem shone le !{iil(leu-,veii(iw pvaiiie, an immeasurable sea of ass mill ilowei's ; above tliein shone the clear Dxehunge a per- '> "'^ Colorado ; far away on their right the world IS inclosed by the pale, transparent blue of the 11^ wall of mountains. Eagle Creek Ranch was ioiiely-litoking place as they neared it. The Mitial portion of tlio buildings spoke of the times lirii tliu Indians— the real Indians, not Five-Ace ii'k anil his merry men — were in the habit of ('tiling tlie plains ; for it was a block-house, built I' lu'iivy logs of pine. Hut from tiiis initial point liiiu'lied out ail sorts of buildings and inclosures KiuMJs, pens, stables, and whatnot, some of them ilistiintiully erected, and others merely maile of )tton wooii fence. Out tliere they speak disre- it'i'tfuliy of cotton wood, because of its habit of cisting itself into extraordinary shapes. It is liiiitti'il, however, by tlie settlers that this very iliit defeats the most perverse ingenuity on the irt of a hog; for the hog, intent on breaking way, fancies he has pot outside the fence, whore- ', owing to tliu twisting of tlie wood, he is still side of it. Tiie ("oIoiK'l liiy in his bed, thinking neither of s lioi^s nor (il Ills pens, nor yet of his vast herds ' entile roaming over the fenceless prairie land. liH long, miisuuiar, bony frame was writliing in liii ; tlio black, disheveled hair was wet with ispiiafion ; tlie powerful hands clutched and rung the coarse bedclotliing. But the Colonel lid all his wits about him ; and when Mr. Greek, ipidacliing him, began to offer some expressions synipatiiy, he was bidden to mind liis own busi- ss ill language of quite irrelevant force. Buck- liii Cliariie was ordered to bring in his master's litiiig-dc'k, which was tlic only polished piece fnniituie in the ranch. Then the Colonel, akiiig a iiowcrful effort to control his writhings, •oceeded to j;ive his instructions. He was not going to die yet, the Colonel said, e had had these fits before. It was only a tough iti'Iope steak, followed by a hard ride and a con- lining thirst too hastily quenched. But here he ud, on his back ; and as he had nothing else to do, ho wanted tho Judge to put down on papor his wishes ami intentions with regard to his prop- erty. The Colonel ailmitted that lie was u rich man. Himself could not tell what head of cattio he owncil. He had two placer mines in tho Clear Creek Caflon ; and he had been offered twelve thousand dollars f(u- the eeU'lirateillicile of Ht.Joo, up near Oeorgetown. He had a house at Idaho Springs. He had a share in a bank at Denver. Now the ('olonel, in short and sharp senteiiees, in- terrupted by a good deal 8sed detestation of Louis Napoleoti. And when he e>id- ed the argument with a laugh., the laugh was not altogether against her. From that moment he de- termined to Ki'iiie every opportunity of pointing out to her the virtues of the French. Of course it was very delightful to him to have for his companion one who came quite fresh to all those wonders of travel which lie close around our own door. One does not often meet nowa- days with a young lady wlio has not seen, for ex- ample, the Rhine under moonlight. Lady Syl< had never been out of England. It seemed ver by the b ouse on the he clear, col her that she had crossed interminable distaua be days pass and left her native country in a different plan And, on th altogether, when she reached Brussels, and b Ingland thei could not understand her husband when he si lat could clt that in the Rue Montagne de la Cour he had i olute hush c ways the impression that he had just stepp hose wander round the corner from Regent Street. And si clitics in unl tried to imagine what she would do in these i mote places of the earth if she were all by h( > aesumeat self — without this self-reliant guide and compi or herself — ion, who seemed to care no more for the awf f the tired and mysterious officials about railway statio er in Englai he was betl liing about handoned h ler glimpses if the existei late friends lone in the and the entrances to palaces than he would forti humble and familiar English policeman great deeds of chivalry were poor in her eyes coiihe "proposei pared with the splendid battle waged by her hi do, in these band against extoition ; the field of Waterloo w nearly witnessing another fearful scene of bloo shed, all because of a couple of francs. Then Rhine, on the still n oonlight night, from the hi balcony in Cologne, with the colored lights of t steamers moving to and fro — surely it was lltirring the alone who was the creator of this wonderful seen loonlight b That he was the creator of some of her delight bout Nonnc it was probable enough. o her as he Finally they settled down in the little villa] ]g before, of Rolandseck; and now, in this quiet retrei or this ne^ after the hurry and bustle of travelling was ov xprcssion t; and gone, they were thrown more directly ( i in snatche each other's society, and left to lind out whetb snd Scotchv they could find in the companionship of cai lood. lie other a sufficient mean.s cf passing the tin :new nothii That, indeed, is the peril of the honey-moon p dIv as echo riod, and it has been the origin of a fair amou ow ; and y( of mischief. You take a busy man away fro liing of fori: all his ordinary occupations, and you tak^ eat them t young girl away from all her dumestic ami otli licsc old ph pursuits, while as yet neither knows very mu iijrgest tliei about the other, and while they have no commi ras of her t' objects of interest — no business alTaiis, nor hoii affairs, nor children to talk about — iind you oxpe them to amuse each other day after d.iy, and d after day. Conversation, in such circumstano is apt to dwindle down into very small rills i deed, unless when it is feared that silence may construed into regret, and then a forced effort made to pump up the waters. Moreover, Rolan Ir this, ngai seek, though one of the most beautiful places the world, is a place in which one finds it despi alely hard to pass the time. There is the chari ing view, no doubt, and the Balfours had corn room^, whence they could see, under the cha ging lights of morning, of mid-day, of sunset, ai moonlight, the broad and rushing river, the pi ture^.que island, the wooded and craggy height le forgot t and the mystic range of the Drachenfels. 11 the days were still, sleepy, monotonous. Balfoi iate this fa seated in the garden just over the river, wou r; the feeli get the Kolnische or the Allgemeine, and glati at the brief telegram headed " (JrossbrittannieiAat had ye which told all that was considered to be worl is nature, telling about his native country. Or, togetht od the res they would clamber up through the warm vin rho have tl yards to the rocky heights by Roland's Towi and there let the dreamy hours go by in watcHurred to hi ing the shadows cross the blue mountains, in fi lowing the small steamers and the greater raf as they passed down the stream, in listening the tinkling of the cattle bells in the valley b low. How many times ft day did Balfour ca Oh, Raw ye Ami f-ixvj CroHfcd six: Sought hI Ilcr liair it Dark is t Red, red Ik VVIiero ci Ilor liosver Tied up And courti, Men's iai Blie waves Wi' her I And her ch My bonn :|.i Like Is And Ue iRht. Ilcl. Lady Syl It sucmed minable a different plan Brussels, and )and when he la Cour he had had just . Street. And s uld do in these e were all by guide and lore for the awl railway in he would fort policeman, or in her eyes waged by her Id of Waterloo w ful scene of francs. Then tl ight, from the hi )lorcd lights of t —surely it was lis wonderful le of her delight n the little vi tiiis quiet ravelling was o« more directly o tiiid out w anionship of cai passing the he honey-moon i u of a fair umou sy man away fre , and you tak' iluuiestiu ami otli ■ knows very mu ly have no commi !s atfaii'S, nor hoii ut — iind you oxpe ' after d.iy, and d uch circumstanci very small rills i that silence may n a forced effort Moreover, Rolii beautiful places one tinils it despi riiere is the chan lalfours had corn D, under the cha ■day, of sunset, ai liing river, the pi .nd craggy heiglil Drachenfela, ■ate I nd vit lotonous. fialfoi er the river, wou emeine, and (i idered to be itry. Or, togethi gli the warm py Roland's Towi rs go by in 3 mountains, in fi d the greater raf tam, in listening Is in the valley b r did Uulfour ca GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. 4» ver by the swinging ferry to the small bathing- ouse on the other side, and there plunge into he clear, cold, rushing green waters ? Somehow distanc^e days passed. And, on the whole, they passed pleasantly. In Ingland there was absolutely nothing going on liat could claim any one's attention ; the tirst ab- olute hush of the recess was unbroken even by steppi hose wandering voices that, later on, murmur of olitics in unfrequented places. All tlie world had one idling ; if a certain young lady had wished a assume at once the rSle she had sketched out compi or herself — of becoming the solace and comfort f the tired legislator — there was no chance for statin er in England at least. Perhaps, on the whole, be was better occupied here in learning some- bing about the nature of the man with whom coi he proposed to spend a lifetime. And here, DO, in these quiet solitudes, Balfour occasionally bandoned his usual bantering manner, and gave blofl er glimpses of a deep under-current of feeling, f the existence of which not even his most inti- late friends were aware. When they walked lone in the still evenings, with the cool wind tirring the avenues of walnut-trees, and the scci loonlight beginning to touch the mists lying bout Nonnenwerth and over the river, he talked her as he had never talked to any human be- illa ig before. And curiously enough, when his love retre( or this newly found companion sought some xprcssion that would satisfy himself, he found t in snatches of old songs that liia nurse, a Low- hetb^nd Scotchwoman, had sung to him in his child- ood. He had never read these lyrics. He tiniBnew nothing of their litvrary value. It was nly as echoes that they came into his memory ow ; and yet tliey satisfied him in giving some- ling of form to his own fancies. He di(l not re- eat them to her; but as he walked with her, lese old phrases and chance refrains seemed to ii{.'gest tliemsolves quite naturally. Surely it fas of her that this was written: Oh, Paw ye my wee tiling, and Baw yc my ain thing, And saw ye my Inn? ](iv(! down <>ii you liia? Crowed hIi«; the inuadow y«8ti'ee« at tlie ulouming. Sought i^ho llie buriiio whuru ll.nvers lhenaw-tr<;e? Her huir it im Ihit wliiti;, hur skin it is niilk wliite, Dark is the hliie o' lier >>aft-rolliii' e'e, lied, red lier ripe jlpx, and sweeter tlian rosea— Where could my wee thlug wander frae me?" Ir this, again : Ilnr liower casement Is lattlccHl wi' flowers, Tied up Hi' siller thread, And courtly sits iihe in the midst. Hen's landing eyes to I'eed ; 81ie waves flie ringlets frae her clieck Wi' iier milky, milky lian'; And lier cheeks seen) touched wi' tlie finger o' God, My bounic Lady Ann." [e forgot that he was in the Rhine-land — the ery cradle of lyrical romance. He did not asso- this fair companion with any book wliatev- ; the feelings that she stirred were deeper down glan han that, and they found expression in phrases rossbrittannien bat had years and years ago become a part of wurSis nature. He forgot all about Uhland, Heine, the rest of the sweet and pathetic Fingers ho have thrown a glamour over the Rhine Val- ly; it was the songs of his boyhood that oc- watcHurred to him. " Like dew on the gowan lying Is the fa' o' her fairy feet; And like the winds in sammer rigldng, Uer voice la low and aweeL" The lines are simple enough. Perhaps they are even commonplace. But they suHiced. It must be said, however, that Balfour was the reverse of an effusive person, and this young wife very speedily discovered that his bursts of tender confidences were likely to be few and far be- tween. He was exceedingly chary of using en- dearing phrases, more especially if there was » third person present. Now she had been used to elaborate and studied expressions of affection. There was a good deal of histrionics about Lord Willowby. He got into violent rages with his servants about the merest trifles ; but these rages were as predetermined as those of the First Na- poleon are said to have been ; he found that it answered his purpose to have his temper feared. Un the other hand, his affection for his daughter was expressed on all occasions with profuse phra- seology — a phraseology that was a trifle mawkish and artificial when heard by others, but which was not so to the object of it. She had grown accustomed to it. To her it was but natural lan- guage. Doubtless she had been taught to believe that all affection expressed itself in that way. Here, again, she tried to school herself. Con- vinced, by these rare moments of self-disclosure, that the love he bore her was the deepest and strongest feeling of his nature, she would be con- tent to do witii'^ut continual protestation of it. She would have no lip-service. Did not reticence in such matters arise from the feeling that there were emotions ami relations too sacred to be con- tinually flaunted before the public gaze? Was she to distrust the man who had married her, be- cau.se he did not prate of his uiTcction for her within the hearing of servants ? The reasoning wa« admirable ; the sentiment that prompted it altogether piaiBCwortliy. But before a young wife begins to efface her person- ality in this fashion, she ouglit to make sure that she has not much personality to speak of. Lady Sylvia had a good deal. In those Kurrey solitudes, thrown greatly in on herself for coini)aiiionsliip, she had acquired a certain seriousness of charac- ter. She had very definite conceptions of the va- rious duties of life; she had decided opinions on many points; she had, like other folks, a firmly fixed prejudice or two. For her to imagine that she could wipe out her own individuality, as if it were a sum on a slate, and inscribe in itr< stead a whole series of new opinions, was mere folly. It was prompted by the most generous of mo- tives, but it was folly none the less. Obviously, too, it was a necessary corollary of this effort at self-surrender, or rather self-effacement, that her husband should not be made aware of it ; she would be to him, not what she was, but what she thought she ought to be. Hypersubtleties of fancy and feeling? the re- sult of delicate rearing, a sensitive temperament, and a youth h.,ient much in solitary self-com- munion ? Perhaps they were ; but they were real for all that. They were not affectations, but facts —facts involving as important issues as the sim- pler feelings of less complex and cultivated na- tures. To her they were so real, so all-important, that the whole current of her life was certain to be guided by them. During this pleasant season but one slight cloud crossed the shining heaven of their new life. They had received letters in the morning; in the evening, aa they sat at dinner, Lady Syl- 46 GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. via suddenly said to her husband, with a sort of childish iiiippiiioss in her face, " Oh, Hugh, iiow delightful it must be to be n very rich person ! I am eagerly looking forward to that first thousand pounds — it is a whole thou- sand pounds all at once, is it notV Then you must put it in a bank for me, and let me have a check-book." " I wonder what you will do with it," said he. " I never could understand 'vhat women did with their private money. I suppose they make a pre- tense of paying for their own dress ; but as a matter of fact they have every thing given them — jewelry, flowers, bonnets, gloves — " "I know," said she, with a slight blush, "what I should like to do with my money." " Well V" said he. Of course she had some ro- Tnantiu notion in her head. She would open a co-operative store for the benefit of the inhabit- ants of Happiness Alley, and make Mrs. Grace the superintendent. S'le would procure "a day in the country" for all tlie children in the slums of Seven Dials. She would start a fund for erecting a gold statue to Mr. Plimsoll. " You know," said she, with an embarrassed smile, " that papa is very poor, and I think those business matters have been harassi'ig him more than ever of late. lam suie, Hii:rh '?ar, you are quite right about women not m ■;uiiig money of their own — at least I know I have never felt the want of it much. And now don't you think it would please poor papa if I were to surprise him some morning with a check for a whole thousand pounds ! I should feel myself a mill- ionaire." He showed no surprise or vexation. He mere- ly said, in a cold way, " If it would please you, Sylvia, I see no objec- tion." But immediately after dinner he went out, say- ing he meant to go for a walk to some village on the other side of the Rliine — too distant for her to go. He lit a cigar, and went down to the ferry. The good-natured ferryman, who knew Balfour well, said " 'n Abend, Heir." Why should this sulkj--browed man mutter in reply, "The swindling old heathen !" It was quite certah' that Balfour could not have referred to the 1 friendly ferryman. He walked away along the dusty and ?ilo .; road, in tlie gathering twilight, pufiiug his cigii; fiercely. " At it alread}'," he was saying to himself, bit- terly. " He could not let a week pass. And the child comes to me with her pretty ways, and says, ' Oil, won't you pity this poor oW swindler «' And of course I am an impressionable young man ; and in the first flush of conjugal gratitude and enthusiasm I will do whatever slie asks; and so the letter comes within the very first week ! By the Lord, I will stop that kind of thing as soon as I gel buck to London !" He retiM'ned to the hotel about ten o'clock. Lady Sylvia had gone to her room ; he went there, and found her crying bitterly. And as she would not tell him why she was in such grief, how could he be expected to know? He thought he had acted very generously in at once acceding to her proposal ; and there could not be the slightest doubt that the distance to that par- ticular village was much too great for her to at- tempt, CHAPTER XV. A N£W ACQUAINTANCE. At breakfast next morning. Lady Sylvia ajv peared as cheerful as possible. She was quitt talkative, and was more charmed than ever with the beauties of the Rhine. No reference waj made to that little incident of the pre- 'ous even- ing. She had been schooling herself as usual. Wai it not natur'l for him to show some resentment at this foolish school-girl notion of presenting a .4'1000 bank-note to her father? Her husband could not be expected to share in her romantic notions. He was a man of the world. And had that her eye he was to 1 Ijeautiful pi through a n " Uillo !" ping on boa if there isn' "Who is impulse was jer. "Oh, the four, who a ia a Parliam that's been and every th he not shown his generosity and unfailing con. '"^^ ''ji"?.*! sideration in not only assenting to her proposal, but in going off to conceal his natural disapprov. iDost to avo al ? Her woman's eyes had been too quick ; that was all. On the other hand, Balfour, delighted to find his young wife in such good spirits, could not think of reviving a matter which might lead to a quarrel. She might give her father the thou, sand pounds, and welcome. Only he, Balfour, would take very good care, as soon as he goi back to England, that that was the kst applica tion of the kind. Now, the truth was, there had been no such application. Lord Willowby had written to hi; daughter, and she had received the letter; bul there was not in it a single word referring to money matters. A simple inquiry and a simple explanation would h.ave prevented all this un pleasantness, which might leave traces behind it. Why had not these been forth-coming? Wiiy indeed ! How many months before was it thai Balfour was urging his sweetheart to fix an earlj day for their wedding, on the earnest plea that marriage was the only guarantee against mis- understandings? Only with marriage came p;r. feet confidence. Marriage was to be tiie perpot ual safeguard against the dangers of separation, the interference of friends, the mischief wroiigii by rumor. In short, marriage was to bring aboiii the millennium. That is the belief that has got Into the heads of a good many young people be. sides Mr. Hugh Balfour and Lady Sylvia BIythe, I'ut as they were now quite cheerful and ' ' a?od with each other, whatmore was wanted Anr . was a bright and beautiful day; and soon i'. . Ucamcr would be coming up the river to take them on to Coblentz, that tliey might go up tlie Moselle. As they stood on the small wooden pier. Lady Sylvia, looking abroad on the beautiful panorama of crag and island and river, said to lier husband in a low voice, 'Shall we ever forget this place? And the still days wo spent here?" " I will give you this advice, Sylvia," said ho. " If j-ou want to remember liolaudseck, don't keep any photograph of it in England. That will only (leaden and vulgarize the place; and you will {rradiially have the photograph dispos- sessing your memory picture. Look, now, and remember. Look at the color of the Rhine, and the shadows under the trees of the island there, and the sunshine on those blue mountains). Don't you think you will always be able to re- member ?" She did not look at all. She suddenly turned away her head, for she did not wish him to see NCE. Lady Sylvia ajv She was quitt :d than ever with reference was lie pre- 'ou3 even. f as usual. Wai some resentmeni 1 of presenting a ? Her husband in her romantic world. And liad id unfailing con. to her proposal, atural disapproT. most n too quick ; that lowi delighted to find ipirits, could not h might lead to a father the thou. )nly he, Balfour, soon as he got the last applica. id been no sucb id written to hii I the letter; but ford referring to liry and a simple ited all this un traces behind it. -coming? Why sfore was it tliai irt to fix an earlj jarnest plea that itee against mis- irriage came p ;r. to be the perpot rs of separation iiischief wrought as to bring about ;lief that lias got young people be- ly Sylvia Blytiie, to cheerful and lore was wanted! ul day ; and soon I tiie river to take migiit go up the le small wooden I on tlie beautiful md river, said to )lace? And tlie Sylvia," said he, olandscck, don't England. Tiiiit tlie place; and otograph dispos Look, now, ami f the Rhine, and tiie island there, blue mountains, s be able to re- suddenly turned wish him to see GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. 41 hat her eyes had filled. It was not the last time ihe was to look at Rolandseck — or rather at the beiiutiful picture that memory painted of it — hrough a mist of tears. " Uillo !" cried her husband, as they were step- ping on board the Kaiser Wilhelm, " I'm hanged if tliero isn't Billy Bolitho!" " Who is he V" said she, timidly. Her first impulse was to shrink from meeting any stran- ger. " Oh, the best fellow in the world," said Bal- four, who appeared to be greatly pleased. " He is a Parliamentary agent. Now j'ou will hear all that's been going on. Bolitho knows every body and every thing ; and, besides, he is the best of fel- s himself." Mr. Bolitho, with much discretior, did his ut- to avoid running against these two young people ; but that was of no i' ;e. Balfour hunted Lim up, and brought him along to introduce him to Lady Sylvia. He was an elderly gentleman, with silvery white whiskcr.i, a bland and benevo- lent face, and remarkably shrewd and humorous eye.'*. He was very re.fpectful to Lady Sylvia, lie renuirked to her that he had the pleasure of knowing her father ; but, as Balfour put in, it would have iieen hard to find any one whom Mr. Bolitho (lid not know. And liow strange it was, after these still days in the solitude by the Rhine, to plunge back again into English j)()litics ! The times were quiet enough in England itself just at the moment; but •t'lit events had recently been happening, and these iitt'onled plenty of matter for eager di,scus- sion and speculation. Lady Sylvia listened intent- ly : was it not part of her education ? She heard their guesses as to the political future. Would the Piinie Minister be forced to dissolve before the spring ? Or would he not wait to see the ef- fect on the country of the reconstruction of the cabinet, and app^'ar in PVbruary with a fascina- ting budget, wliici. would charm all men's hearts, and pave the way for a triumphant majority at the general election? All this she could follow pretty well. She was puzzled when they spoke of the alleged necessity of the Prime Minister seeking re-elcetion on assuming the ofHce of Chan- cellor of the E.xehequer ; and she did not quite ''now what league it was that was likely to oppose — according to rumor — the re-election at Birming- ham of a statesman who had just been taken into the cabinet. But all this about the chances of a dissolution she could understand pretty well ; and was it not of sufficient interest to her, consider- ing that her husband's seat iu the Hon^'j was iu peril ? But when they got into the pcrmmid of poli- tics she was lost altogether. There were rumors of a still further reconsiiuction of the ministry ; and the chances of appointments falling to such and such people brought out such a host of de- tails about the position of various men whose names even were unknown to her that she got not a little bewildered. And surely this garrulous, bland old gentleman talked with a dreadful cyn- icism about public affairs, or rather about the men engaged in them. And was not his talk af- fecting her husband too ? Was it true that these were the real objects which caused this man to pose as a philanthropist and the other to preside at religious meetings ? She began to find less and less humor in these remarks of Mr. Bolitho. She would like to have carried her husband away from the sphere of his evil influence. " I suppose now, Balfour," said he, " you have been taking a look round * You know, of course, that Ballinascroon will make short work of you?" " Yes, I know that," said the other. " Well," said Mr. Bolitho, " they say that we sha'n't know what the government mean to do until Bright's speech in October. I have a sus- picion that something besides that will happen in October. They may fancy a bold challenge would tell. Now, suppose there was a dissolution, where would you be V" " Flying all over the countrj', I suppose — Eves- ham, Shoreham, Woodstock, Harwich, any where — seeing where I could get some rest for the sole of my foot." " If r were you," said Mr. Bolitho, " I would not trust to a postponement of the dissolution till the spring. I would take my measures now." "Very well, but where? Come, Bolitho, put me on to a good thing. I know you have always half a dozen boroughs in vou'- pocket." "Well," said Mr. Bolitho to Lady Sylvia, with a cheerful smile, " your husband wishes to make me out a person of some importance, doesn't he? But it is really an odd coincidence that I should run across him to-day ; for, as it happens, 1 .lui going on to Mainz to see Eugy Chorley, and that is a man of whom you might fairly say that he carries a borough iu his pocket — PJnglobury." " That's old Ilarnden's place. What a slianio it would be to try to oust the old fellow !" said Bal- four. " Oh, he is good for nothing," said Mr. Bolitho, gayly. "Ii(^ ought to.be in a Bath-chair, at Brighton. Besides, he is very unpopular; he has been spending no money lately. And I sup- pose you have got to oust somebody somewhere if you mean to sit in the House." " But wiiat are his politics ?" said Lady Sylvia to this political pagan. " Oh, nothing in particular. Formerly, if there was a free fight going on any where, he was sure to be in it — though you never could tell on which side. Now he limits himself to an occa- sional growl." "And you would have my husband try to turn out this poor old gentleman ?" said Lady Sylvia, with some indignation. " Why not ?" said Mr. Bolitho, with a cha;'ming smile. "How many men has Harnden turned out in his time, I wonder? Now, Lady Sylvia, you could be of great use to your husband if you and he would only come straight on with me to Mainz. Mr. Chorley and his wife are at the j Hotel. He is a solicitor at Eng'ebury; he is the ; great man there, does all the parochial business, I is a friend of the Duke's — in short, he can do I what he likes at Englcbnry. Your husband ; would have to conciliate him, you know, by put- ' ting a little business in his way- buying a few farms or houses on speculation and selling them again. Or, stay, this is better. Eugy wants to sell a few acres of land he himself has. i be- lieve he stole the piece from the side of an out- of-the-way common — first had a ditch cut for drainage, then put up a few posts, then a wire to keep children from tumbUng in, then, a couple of years after, he boldly ran a fence round and cleared the place inside. I suppose no one dared 4S GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. to interfere with a man who had the private af- fairs of evci V one in the parish in iiis hands. Well, I Uiink Mr. i horley, when he sees all this fuss go- ing on about inclosures, sometimes gets uneasy. Now your hu..l/aud might buy this laud of him." "For what purpose, pray?" demanded Lady Sylvia, with some dignity. "Do I understand you that this land was stolen from the poor peo- ple of the village ?" " Yes," said Mr. Bolitho, coolly. " And your husband could give it back to them — make a pub- lic green of ?nius C audacity, horsy -looki face wrinkl rately clipp neck-tie, wi was 8hrew( very respec distrusted j what price stared. "My fri( a careless there, Mr. < If I were 1 garden, wo vastly grat Here Mr >rIeTistbedaugli. ;tend to wish for of England — m; lied Mr. Bolitho, irity, "you must for he perceived irm, and a young fe should acquit good-humoredl;, ve any very keen 1. No doubt the ;ablisl)ed in time, ill be well to pro. may be effected larshness aa pos- e connection be- thing to do with it is a political ' any body else ia 3 interest in such person goad her 9 of Mrs. Chorlcj lugh," said Lady , intention of en- topic whatsoever ' regarded Mrs. ipinions, no mat- ireign contempt ancc into which I enter, that was ligliting, indiffer- I) ought »- have hiinV And tiie Bolitho pleased en ?" she asked lid he. "There puleutate, at all Moselle another nt's notice, thai which she had day, merely that le could bribe a )ncy. She knew L'ver have done ice of this god- of the British m the means of And she, too, iracy. id Mr. Bolitho, one thing will your agreeing ia the fact th»t first. Then it I to bring Mrs. itroducing that ter of an carL ler guide-book, jargon of poli- >n would be of never experi- ! of her miser- life. GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLT. 49 CHAPTER XVI. IHC 00N8PIRAT0II& It WB8 late when they arrived at Mainz, and there was some little delay about getting supper ready, because, s quarter of an hour after it v/am ordered, they heard the squealing of a young cock outside, that being the animal destined for their repast. Moreover, when the fowl appeared, he turned out to be a tough little beast, only half cooked ; so they sent him away, and had some- thing else. For convenience* sake they supped in the great, gaunt, empty Speise-s&al. It was about ten o'clock when they went up to the sit- ting-room on the first floor which they had or- dered. There was thus plenty of time for Lady Sylvia to have got over the first fierce feeling of wrath against Mr. and Mrs. Chorley, which had been be- gotten by the cynicism of Mr. Bolitho and the in- dilTerenoe of her husband. Surely those large and tender blue-gray eyes — which her husband ponr thought had more than ever of the beautiful liquid lustre that had charmed him in the days of her sweet maidenhood — were never meant as the haunt of an incontroUable rage? And, indeed, when Mr. and Mrs. Chorley, who had been wander- ing about the town on foot, were brought up to the apartment at that late hour of the night by Mr. Bolitho, and introduced to Mr. and Lady Syl- via Balfour, there was nothing hideous or repel- lent about the political Gorgon, nothing calculated to awaken dismay or disgust. On the contrary, Mrs. Chorley, who was a tall, motherly- looking woman, with a fresh-colored face, gray hair, thin and decided lips, and blue eyes that stared at one over her silver spectacles, was more than friendly with the young girl. She was almost obsequious. She was sure Lady Sylvia must be so tired ; would not Lady Sylvia have a cup of tea now ? She would be so pleased if she could do any thing for Lady Sylvia. Lady Sylvia sat proud and cold. She did not like to be fawned upon. She was listening, in indignant silence, for the first efforts of her husband and Mr. Bolitho to cajole this mercenary solicitor into betraying an English constituency. One thing she might have been sure of — that her husband would not be guilty of any tricks of flattery or hypocrisy to gain his end. His faults lay all the other way — in a bluntness and direct- ness that took too small account of the sensitive- ness of other people. And on this evening he was in very good spirits, and at once attacked Mr. Eug'inius Chorley with a sort of gay and friendly audacity. Now Mr. Chorley was a little, dapper, horsy -looking man, with shrewd, small eyes, a face wrinkled and red aa a French rennet, accu- rately clipped whiskers, and a somewhat gorgeous neck-tie, with a horseshoe in emeralds in it. He was shrewd, quick, and clever ; but he was also very respectable and formal, and he disliked and distrusted jokes. When Balfour gayly asked him what price Englebury put upon itself, he only stared. " My friend Bolitho," continued Balfour, with a careless smile, " tells me you've got some land there, Mr. Chorley, of no particular use to you. If I were to buy that, and turn it into a public garden, wouldn't the inhabitants of Englebury be »»8tly grateful tome y" Here Mr. Bolitho etrack in, yery red in the face. D " Of course you undentand, Chorley, that is mere nonsense ; we were having a joke about it OP the steamer. But really now, you know, we may have a general election in October ; and Mr. Balfour is naturally anxfous to fix on some bor- ough where he may uave a reasonable chao'^e, as Ballinascroon in sure to bid him good-by ; and I have heard rumors that old Harnden was likely to retire. You, as the most important man in the borough, would naturally have great influence in selecting a candidate." It was a broad hint — a much franker exposi- tion of the situation than Mr. Bolitho at all liked ; but then the reckless audacity of this young man had compromised him. "I see," said the small, pink-faced solicitor, with his hands clasping his knee ; and then he added, gravely — indeed, solemnly — "You are doubtless aware, Mr. Balfour, that your expressed intention of giving the inhabitants a public gar- den would become a serious matter for you in the event of there being a petition y" " Oh," said Balfour, with a laugh, " I aha'n't express any intention. You would never think of repeating a private chat we had one evening by the Rhine. The people of Englebury would know nothing about it till long after the election ; it would only be a reward for their virtuous ton- duct in returning so admirable a representative as myself." Mr. Chorley did not like this fashion of treat- ing so serious a matter; in the conduct of the public affairs of Englebury he was accustomed to much recondite diplomacy, caucus meetings, private influence, and a befitting gravity. " There is a number of our people," said he, cautiously, "dissatisfied with Mr. 'Arnden." " Parliament really wants some fresh blood in it," urged Mr. Bolitho, who would have been glad to see a general election every three months; for his Parliamentary agency was not at all confined to looking after the passage of private bills. "And his connection with Macleary has done him harm," Mr. Chorlev again admitted. " Oh, that fellow !" "cried Balfour. " Well, I don't think a man is responsible for the sins of his brother-in-law ; and old Harnden is an honest and straightforward old fellow. But Macleary ! I know for a fact that he received £300 in hard cash for talking out a bill on a AVednesday near the end of this very session. Let him charge me with h- bel, and I will prove it. Thank goodness, 1 am free in that respect. I am not hampered by hav- ing a blackguard for a brother-in-law — " He stopped suddenly, and Lady Sylvia, looking up, was surprised by the expression of his face, in which a temporary embarrassment was blended with a certain angry frown. He hurried on to say something else ; she sat and wondered. What could he mean by this allusion to a brother-in-law ? He had no ^rother-in-law at all. She was recalled from thcjC bewildered guesses by the assiduous attentions of Mrs. Chorley, who was telling Lady Sylvia about all the beautiful places which she must visit, although Lady Sylvia treated these at- tentions with but scant courtesy, and seemed much more deeply interested in this electioneering plot. For it was as a plot that she distinctly regard- ed this proposal ; and she was certain that her husband would never have been drawn into it but for the evil influence of this worldling, this wily serpent, this jester. And what was this that they 60 GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. were saying now ? — that Englebury had no poli- tics at all ; that it was all a matter of personal preference; that the Dissenters in that remote and rustic paradise had not even thought of rais- ing the cry of disestablishment; and that Balfour, if he resolved to contest the scat, would have a fair chance of success. Balfour had grown a trifle more serious, and was making inquiries. It ap- peared that Mr. Chorley was not much moved by political questions ; his wife was a Dissenter, but he was not. Very probably Mr. Harnden would resign. And the only probable rival whom Bal- four would in that case encounter was a certain Reginald Key, who was a native of the place, and had once represented a neighboring borough. "Confound that fellow!" said Mr.Bolitho; "is he back in England again? It doesn't matter which party is in power, they can't get him killed. They've sent him, time after time, to places that invalid every Englishman in a couple of years ; and the worse the place is the better he thrives — comes back smiling, and threatens to get into Parliament again if they don't give him a better appointment. What a nuisance he used to be in the House ! But certainly the feeblest thing I ever knew done by a Liberal government was their sending him out to the Gold Coast — as if twenty Gold Coasts could kill that fellow ! Don't you be afraid of him, Balfour. The government will get him out of the way somehow. If they can't kill him, they will at leas;, pack him out of England. So you think, Chorley, that our friend here has a chance ?" Mr. Chorley looked at his wife : so far the ora- cle had not spoken. She instantly answered that mute appeal. " I should sny a very good chance," she ob- served, with a friendly smile, " a very excellent chance; and I am perhaps in a better position to sound the opinions of our people than my hus- band is, for, of course, he has a great deal of busi- ness on his iianJs. No doubt it would be a great advantage if j'ou had a house in the neighbor- hood. And I am sure Lady Sylvia would soon become very popular : if I may say so, I am sure she would become the popular candidate." Surely all things were going well. Had this important ally been secured, and not a word said about disestablishment? It was Lady Sylvia who now spoke. " I must beg you," saiil the girl, speaking in clear tones, with her face perhaps a trifle more proud and pale than usual — " I must beg you to leave nie out of your scheme. I must say it seems to me a singular one. You meet us, who are strangers to you, by accident in a foreign country ; and without consulting the gentleman who is at present your member, and without con- sulting any of the persons in the town, and with- out asking a word about my husband's opinions or qualiflcations, you practically invite him to represent the constituency in Parliament. All that happens in an hour. Well, it is very kind of you ; but it seems to me strange. Perhaps I ought not to ask why you should be so kind. There has been a talk about presenting a public green to the people ; but I can not suppose you could be influenced by so paltry a bribe. In any case, will you be so good as to leave me, at least, out of the scheme ?" All this was said very quietly, and it was with a sweet courtesy that she rose and bowed to them and left the room ; but when she had gone thi looked as if a thunder-bolt had fallen in the mid of them. Balfour broke the silence ; he was surprised as the others, but he was far mo deeply vexed. " That shows the folly," said he, with an ang look on his face, " of allowing women to n themselves up in politics — I mean unmani women — I mean young women of no experiiin who take every thing au grand siriatx. I sure, Mrs. Chorley, you will allow me to apologi for my wife's conduct ; she herself will be sor enough when she has time to reflect." " Pray don't say another word, Mr. Balfoui Mrs. Chorley replied ; but all the bright frieiii ness had gone from her face, and she spoke cold: " I have no doubt Lady Sylvia is a little tired travelling — and impatient ; and, indeed, my In band and myself ought not to have intruded oi selves upon her at so late an hour. I have doubt it is eleven o'clock, Eugenius ?" Her husband rose, and they left together. Tl Mr. Bolitho put his hands into his pocket stretched out his legs. •' The fat's in the fire," said he. For a second Balfour felt inclined to pici fierce quarrel with this man. Vv^as it not he w had led him into this predicament ? and what he care for all the constituencies and soliciti and agents that c-cr were seen as compared w this desperate business that had arisen betw him and his young wife ? But he controlled himself. He would not c show that he was vexed. " Women don't take a joke," said he, ligh " Besides, she knows little about actual life, is all theory with her; ard she has high noti about what people should be and do. It wa mistake to let her know any thing about elcci affairs." " I thought she was deeply interested," s Mr. Bolitho. " However, I hope no harm is di You will see old Chorley to-morrow before t leave; he is a decent sort of fellow; he w bear a grudge. And from what he says, it pears clear to me that Harnden does really ni to resign ; and Chorley could pull you throng he likes — his wife being favorable, that is. no more at present about the buying of that 1 of his. I am afraid he felt that." Bolitho then went, and Balfour was left &l He began pacing up and down the room, bi the end of a cigar which he did not light, could not understand the origin of this outbi "II "W( •close t( little nn "Id should "Tlu were nc have CO remainc some in "Ho> said, wi you in t to see 3 mined t their ur that you ally mea his trust "My don't un world, ai say. I ( bit of lai been spc innocent could be would n< ward. L giving M acquaintc "I kn cheeks. your frie that I, u scheme." " Your matter-of mistakabi you have had of go "Ishoi "Do y( Bstonishm tive girl of having such a temper. Where she got the courage, too, that enabled he speak with such clear decision ? He bega you mean wonder whether he had ever really discov tijat I sho what the character of this girl was during i There quiet rambles in tne by-gone times. ,jy husbm He went into her room and found her seatc ]o heed an easy-chair, reading by the light of a sol candle. She put the book aside when he enti He flattered himself that he could deal with matter in a gentle and friendly fashion : he w not have a quarrel in their honey-moon. " Sylvia," said he, in a kindly way, "It you have successfully put your foot in it time." She did not answer. " What made you insult those people so } liament soul wtw Well, me to be as my ow "Oh, business-l cruelly, back soor will go plenty for He had never suspected that placid, timid, s( jn Londor tc ihe spoke "If thi lot wish ng your f ie of use y to intei ;etting th )i'al)le tha He pau adly euoi GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. M she had gone thi fuUen in the m\i silence ; he was J he was far mol " I hope I did not insult them," she said. *' Well," he said, with a laugh, " it was getting ■close to it. 1 must say, you might have shown a little more consideration to friends of mine — " "I did not regard tlicm as friends of yours. I should be sorry to do that." " They were, at all events, human beings ; they were not black beetles. And I think you migiit have considered my intcru.st a litti<; bit, and have remained silent, even if you had conjured up some imaginary jaiise of offense — " "How could I remain .silent?" she suddenly said, with vehemence. "I was ashamed to see you in the society of such people ; I was ashamed to see you listening to them ; and I was detei- mined that I, for one, would not be drawn into their unblushing conspiracy. Is it true, Hugh, that you mean to bribe that man ? Does he re- oily mean to accept that payment for betraying his trusty" " My dear child," said he, impatiently, " you don't under.^tand such things. The world is the world, and not the paradise of a school-girl's es- say. I can assure you that if I were to buy that bit of land from Ciiorlcy — and so far it has only been spoken of as a joke — that would be a very innocent transaction as things go; and there could be no bribing of the constituency, for they would not know of the public green till after- ward. Bribery? There was more bribery in giving Mrs. Cliorley the honor of making your acriuiiintance — " "I know thut," said the girl, with flushed cheeks. " I gathered that from the remarks of your friend Mr. Bolitlio. And I was resolved that I, at least, would keep out of any such scheme." "Your superior virtue," said Balfour, in a r thing about elect matter-of-fact way, " has assorted itself most un- mistakably. I shall not, be surprised to find that you have killed off the best chance I could have had of getting into the next Parliament." " I should be sorry to see you get into any Par- liament by such means," she said ; for her whole soul wim in revolt against this infamous proposal. " Well, at all events," said he, " you must leave me to be the best judge of such matters, as far as my own conduct is concerned." "Oh, I will not interfere," she said, with a business-like air, though her lienrt was throbbing cruelly. " On the contrary. If you wish to get back soon, in order to look after this borough, I will go whenever you please. Tiiere will be plenty for me to do at The Lilacs while you are in London." " Do you mean," said he, regarding her with that enabled he astonishment, " when we return to England, do iision ? He bega you mean that you will go down to Surrey, and ;ver really discoyjthat I should remain in Piccadilly ?" There was a voice crying in her heart, " niy himband — m;i Imsband!" but she would pay nd found herseate no heed to it. Her face had got pale again, anil i he, with an anj ng women to uj [ mean unmanii a of no experi'.iK and sintta. I low me to apologi crself will be soi reflect." word, Mr. Balfoui the bright friend nd she spoke cold a is a little tired ind, indeed, my lii ) have intruded oi n hour. I have genius ?" left together. Tli nto his pocket a dhe, , inclined to pick \(^as it not he w ment ? and what encies and solicit en as compared w , had arisen betwi , He would not c ike," said he, ligh ibout actual life, she has high noli je and do. It wa jply interested," lope no harm is d )-morrow before t of fellow ; he w what he says, it den does really ni d pull you throng rorable, that is. le buying of that ' , that." lalfour was left al lown the room, bi he did not light, ligin of this outbi at placid, timid, 8( temper. Where the light of a sol aside when he eutf le could deal with idly fashion : he w • honey-moon, kindly way, "It t your foot in it i those people so?' she spoke cahnly, "If that were convenient to you. I should lot wish to be in the way if you were entertain- ng your friends — I mean the friends who might id of use to j'ou at Engleburv. I should be sor- ■y to interfere in any way with your chances of jetting the seat, if you consider it right and hon- )i'able that you should try." He paused for a moment, and then he said, ladly enough — "Very well." CHAPTER XVn. THE HOMB-COUINO. Or course they did not quarrel. We Hto In the nineteenth century. Tolerance of opinion exists in the domestic circle as well as elsewhere ; and no reasonable man would like his wife to be that vague and colorless reproduction of her hus- band which Lady Sylvia, all unknown to Balfour, had striven to be. She ought to have her own convictions; she ought to know how to govern her own conduct ; nay, more, he would allow her lO do as she pleased. There was but one condi- tion attached. " You shall have your own way in every thing," said the man in the story to hia wile: "but you can't expect to have my way too." Lady Sylvia was welcome to act as she pleased ; but then he reserved the same liberty for himself. This decision he came to without any bitter- ness of feeling. He was quite anxious to make all possible excuses for her. Doubtless she pre- ferred Surrey to Piccadilly. It is true, he had looked forward to her being a valuable helpmeet to him in his political life ; but it was perhaps expecting too much of her that she should at once interest herself in the commonplace inci- dents of an election. He would be well content if this beautiful, tender-eyed creature, whose ex- cessive sensitiveness of conscience was, after all, only the result of her ignorance of the world, were to wait for him in that sylvan retreat, reac'v to receive him and cheer him with the sweet so- licitude of her loving ways. And in the mean time he would try to make their companionship as pleasant as possible ; he would try to make this journey one to be remembered with pride and gratitude. If there were one or two sub- jects which they avoided in conversation, what of that? And as soon as Lady Sylvia heard that the Chorleys and Mr. Bolitho had left Mainz, she be- came more tender and affectionate than ever to- ward her husband, and woidd do any thing to meet his wishes. Learning that certain of his political friends were at the moment at Lucerne, she offered to go tliither at once, so that he might have something to interest him apart from the monotony of a wedding trip ; and although, of course, he did not accept the offer, he recog- nized her intention, and was grateful to her. Was it not enough occupation for him to watch the effect on this ingenuous mind of the new wonders that she saw, as they went on to Schaffhausen, and the Tyrol, and Verona, and Venice ? In their hotel at Venice, Balfour ran ngainst a certain Captain Courtenay, with wlioni he had a slight acquaintance. Tliey had a chat in the evening in the smoking-room. "Seen Major Blytiie lately?" said Balfour, among other tilings. " No," answered the other, somewhat coldly. " You don't know, I suppose," asked Balfour, quite unconcernedly, " how that business at the C Club came off?" The young man with the fair mustache eyed him narrowly. It is not a safe thing to tell a man evil things of his relatives, unless you know how they stand with regard to each other. " Yes, I do know— eh — an unfortunate bufli- aess — very. Fact is, Blytbe wouldn't explain. I n GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. suppose there was some delay about the posting of that letter; and — and — I have no doubt that he would have paid the money next day if he had not been bullied about it. You see, a man docs not like to be challenged in that way, supposing he has made a triHing mistake — " " Yes," said Balfour, nodding his head in ac- quiescence ; " but how was it settled ?" " Well," said the other, with some embarrass- ment, "the fact is — well, the committee, don't you know, had to enforce the rules — and he wouldn't explain — and, in fact, he got a hint to resign — " " Which he took, of course." " I believe so." Balfour said nothing further ; but in his mind he coupled a remark or two with the name of Major the Honorable Stephen BIythe which that gentleman would have been startled to hear. Then he went up stairs to the sitting-room, and found Lady Sylvia at the open casement, looking out on the clear, blue-green, lambent twilight. " Well, good wife," said lie, gayly, " are you be- ginning to think of trudging home now? We ought to see a little of The Lilacs before all the leaves are gone. And there won't be much to keep me in London now, I fancy; they are get- ting more and more certain that the government won't bring on the dissolution before the new year." She rose, and put a hand on each of his shoul- ders, and looked up into his face with grateful and loving eyes. "That is so kind of you, Hugh. It will be so pleasant for us to get to know what home really is — after all these hotels. And you will be in time for the pheasants: I know several people will be so glaci to have you." Of course the merest stranger would be de- lighted to have so disliiiguished a person as Mr. Balfour come and shoot his pheasants for him ; failing that, would she not herself, like a loyal and dutiful wife, go to her few acquaintances down there and represent to them the great honor the.v might have of entertaining her husband ? "I see there is to be a demonstration on the part of the ugrioultural laborers," said he, " down in Souiersetsliire. I slioui'l like to ^fce that — I should like to have a talk with so.iie of their leaders. But I am afraid we could not get bnck in time." " My darling," she protested, seriously, " I can start at five minutes' notice. We can go to-night, if you wish." " Oh no, it isn't worth while," said he, absently. And then he continued : " I'm afraid your friends the clei'gymen are making a mistake as regards that question. I don't know who these leaders are ; I should like to know more precisely their character and aims ; but it will do no good to call them agitators, and suggest that they should be ducked in horse-ponds — " " It is infamous !" said Lady Sylvia. She knew nothing whatever about it. But she would have believed her husband if he had told her that St. Mark's was made of green cheese. " I mean that it is unwise," said he, without any enthusiasm. " Christ meant His church to be the church of the poor. The rich man has a bad time of it in the Gospels. And you may depend on it that if you produce among the poorer classes the feeling that the Ohuruh of Sngland is on the side of the rich — is the natitral ally of the squireg; landlords, and other employers — you are driving them into the hands of the Dissenters, and hast- ening on disestablishment." " And serve them right too," said she, boldly, " if they betray their trust. When the Church ceases to be of the nation, let it cease to be the national church." This was a pretty speech. How many weeks before was it that Lady Sylvia was vowing to up. hold her beloved Church against all comers, but more especially against a certain malignant icon- oclast of the name of Mrs. Chorley ? And now she was not only ready to assume that one or two random and incautious speeches represented the opinion of the whole of the clergymen of En- gland, but she was also ready to have the con- nection between Church and state severed in order to punish those recusants, " I am not sure," said Hal four, apparently tak- ing no notieo of this sudden recantation, " that something of that feeling has not been produced already. The working-man of the towns jeers at the parson ; the ngricidtural lalrarer distrusts him, and will grow to hate hiiii if he takes the landlord's side in this matter. Now why docj not the Archbishop of Canterbury seize the occa- sion ? Why does he not come forward and say 'HolO a bit, my fiicnds. Your claims may i)e just, or they may be exorbitant — that is a matter for careful in(|uiry — and you must let your land lords be heard on the other side. But wliatevor happens, don't run away with the notion that the Church has no sympathy with yoti ; that the Church is the ally of your landlord; that it it the interest of your parson to keep you poor, ill fed, ill lodged, and ignorant. On the contrary, who knows so much about your circumstance!*! Who more fitting to become ihe mediator be tween you nrd your landlord V You miiy prefer to have leaders tnun your own ranks to fight your battles for you ; but don't imagine tliat the |)ars()n looks on uneoneerncd, and, above all, don't c.< peet to lind him in league witli your opponents.' Some Uiisehief could be avoided that way, 1 think. " "Hugh," said slu;, with a sudden burst of en thusiasin, " I will go down to Soiuersctshire with you." " And get up on a chair an(l address a crowd," said he, with a smile. " I don't think they would understand yoiu' sjiecch, many of them." " Well," said she, " perhaps I shall be better employed in making The Lilacs look very pretty for your return. And I shall have those slippcii made up for you by that time. And, oh, Hugh— I wanted to ask you — don't you think we slioulJ have those cane rocking-ehaiis taken away from the smoking-room, now the colder evenings are coming in, and morocco easy-chairs put iu tlicii stead »" " I am sure whatever you do will be right,' said he. " And papa will be back from Scotland then,' said she. " And he writes me that my uncle an his family are going down for a few days ; and i will be so pleasant to have a little party to mee us at the station — " The expression of his face changed suddenly, "Did you say your uncle?" said he, withi cold stare. " Yes," said she, with innocent cheerfulness " it will be quite pleasant to have some friends t welcome And Ik the Hull, see the i "Nod via, if an may ace leave me Shekx ation in firm. "Wha "Only prefer nc cle is the "Why "lam enough f( with who tliaa that mind; I think it n acquainta drop." "Do y( becoming not to see out haviuj "I wish in quite a will (ill y, uncle's de characteri: puloub ace "Iund( or in her : you, of all for bis po cle is pool "Pardo lack of m to a sort say— as w let that p As I unde some awk ing— at tt that he hi " Who "Capta "Theg " Yes." "Have uncle ?"s "I thin have said "And} nation in my relatii story told do I knon he tell wl his havin Hugh, yot " Now, ;'Youkn( interfere i action. I and his f ate with ; I, for one society." y of the squirea^ you are driving inters, and bast- •aid she, boldly, tien tlie Church cease to be tho ow many weeks 18 vowing to up- ; all comers, but malignant icon- ley? And now tlint one or two represented tlie ergymcn of En- a tmve the con severed in order , apparently tak cnntation, " that t been produced the towns jeers l«borer distrusts if he takes the Now why doc} ■y seize the ccca- brward and sny ' claims may lie -that is a matter ist let your laud !. But wliatever tlie notion tiiut til you ; that tlie illui'd; that it it icep you poor, ill [)n the contrary, ' circumstances y he mediator lie- You may prefer uik;* to tight your ictliat the parson we all, don't ex- your opponents.' liatway, Itiiink." Idcn burst of en- iiuersetsliirc with iddress a crowd," tliink they woulJ )f them." 1 shall be better i look very pretty ive tliose slippers \nd, oh, Hugh— I think we should taken away from ildcr evenings art hairs put iu thcii lo will be right,' m Scotland then,' that my uncle am i few days ; and ii ttle party to mee Ranged suddenly. '* said be, with lent cheerfulness I bve Boine f rieads t GHEEX PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. 68 welcome us, after our long stay among strangers. And I know pupa will want us to go straight to tho Hull, and dine there ; and it will be so nice to see the dear old place — will it not?" " No doubt," said he. And then he added, " Jvl- via, if any iuvitatiou of that sort reaches you, vc't may accept for yourself, if you wish, but please leave me out of it." She looked up and perceived the singular alter- ation in his look ; he had become cold, reserved, firm. " What do you mean, Hugh ?" she cried. "Only this," said he, speaking distinctly. "I prefer not to dine at Willowby Hall if your un- cle is there. I do not wish to meet him." " Why?" she said, in amazement. " I am not a tale-bearer," he answered. " It is enough for me that he is not the sort of person with whom I wish to sit down at table. More tlian that — but I am only expressing an opinion, mind ; I don't wish to control your conduct — I think it might be better if you were to allow your acquaintance with your uncle's family quietly to drop." " Do you mean," said she, with the pale face becoming slightly flushed, " that I am to resolve not to see those relatives of mine any more — with- out having a word of reason for it ?" " I wished to spare you needless pain," said he, in quite a gentle way. " If you want to know, I will < 3ll you. To begin with, I don't think your uncle's dealings in regard to money matters are characterized by that precision — that — that scru- puloub accuracy — " " I understand," she said, quickly, and the col- or in her face deepened. " But I did not expect you, of all men iu the world, to reproach any one for his poverty. I did not expect that My un- cle is poor, I know — " " Pardon me, Sylvia, I never made your uncle's lack of money « charge against him : I referred to a sort of carelessness — forgetfulness, let us flay — as regdrda other people's money. However, let that pass. The next thing is more serious. As I understand, your uncle bus been involved in some awkward business — arising from whist-play- ing — at the C Club ; and I hear this evening that he has resigned in consequence." "Who told you that?" " Captain Courtenay." " The gentleman who is staying in this hotel ?" " Yes." " Have you any thing else to say against my uncle ?" she demanded. " I think I have said enough ; I would rather have said nothing at all." " And you ask me," she said, with some indig- nation in her voice, " to cut myself adrift from my relatives because you have listened to some story told by a stranger in a coffee-room. What do I know about Captain Courtenay ? How can he tell what explanation my uncle may have of his having resigned that club? I must say, Hugh, your request is a most extraordinary one." "Now, now, Sylvia," he said, good-naturedly. *' You know I made no request ; I do not wish to interfere in the slightest way with your liberty of action. It is true that I don't think your uncle and his family are fit people for you to associ- ate with ; but you must act as you think best. I, for one, don't choose to be thrown into their society." Now Lady Sylvia never had any great affec- tion for her aunt, and she was not likely to hold her cousin Hunuria in dear remembrance; but, after all, her relatives were her relatives, and she became indignant that they should be spoken of in this wuy. " W hy did you make no objection before ? Why did you go and dine at their house ?" He laughed. " It suited ray purpose to go," said he, " for I expected to spend a pleasant evening with you." " You saw nothing wrong in my visiting them then." " Then I had no right to offer you advice." "And now that you have," said she, with a proud and hurt manner, " what advice do I get ? I am not to see my own relations. They are not proper persons. But I suppose the Chorleys are : is that the sort of society you wish me to cultivate ? At all events," she added, bitterly, " my relatives happen to have an A or two iu tiieir possession." '' Sylvia," said he, going over and patting her on the shoulder, "you are offended — without cause. You ran see as much of your uncle's family as you please. I had no idea you were so passionately attached to them." That ended the affair for the moment; but during the next few days, as they tiavulUd by easy stages homeward, an ominous t^ileucu pre- vailed as to their plans and movements subue- quent to their reaching England. At Dover she found a telegram awaiting her at the hotel ; with- out a word she put it before her husband. It was from Lord Willowby, asking his daughter by what train she and her husband would arrive, so that the carriage might be waiting for them. " What shall I say ?" she asked at length. " Well," said he, slowly, " if you are anxious to see your relatives, and to spend some time with them, telegraph that you will be by the train that leaves Victoria at 6.15. I will take you down to The Lilacs ; but I must leave you there. It will suit me better to spend a few days in town at present." Her face grew very pale. " I don't think," she said, " I need trouble you to go down with me. I can get to Victoria by myself. 6.15, 1 think you said ?" Slie rang for a blank telegraph form. " What are you going to do ?" said Balfour, struck by something peculiar in her manner. " I am going to telegraph 'o papa to meet me at the station, as I shall be alone." " You will do nothing of the kind," said he, gently but firmly. " You may associate with what people you please, and welcome ; only there must be no public scandal as regards the relations be- tween you and me. Either you will go on with me to Piccadilly, and remain there, or I go down with you to The Lilacs, and leave you to go over to the Hall if you wish to do so." She telegraphed to her father that they had postponed their return to The Lilacs, and would remain in town for the present. She bought a shilling novel at the station, and silently and as- .siduously cried behind it the greater part of the journey up to town. Arrived in London, the poor martyr suffered hersel to be dragged away to that lonely house in Piccadilly. It was a sor- rowful home-coming. Then the cup of her sorrows was not jet full. 64 (JREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. With an iiiliumnn ornolty, her hu»bf.r,d (having had \m own oniU Huivtul) Hoiight to niii'.'c li^ht of thu wholu mutter, All tliiit cvenini^ he tried to ti'UMu hur into a ittnllo of reconciliation , but )ior wrongs luy too luuivily upon her. I'o had even the brntnlity to ank her wht'tlier she could invito the Chorli-yH to dinu with them on the fol- lowing Friday ; und whether they had not better f;et a new densdrt Horvico for thu occasion. He did well, Hho thought, to mention the Chorlcys. Thcac were the people ho coUHidered it fit thr;t fihe Hhould meet: hor own relatives he ^ould debar. CHAPTER XVIII. TIIR HOMTITDKH Ot KVRRET. Parmauknt was not dlMsolvcd that autumn, and there wiix no need that Englebury and its twin electorH, Mr. and Mrs, Cliorle/, should inter- fere with the liiippineHH of Mr. and Lady Sylvia Halfour. lioth the yotnifx people, indeed, would have scouted the notion that any fifteen dozen of Charleys could have noHscsscd that power. Surely it was pii:isil)le for tiiem to construct a suf- liciently pleuHunt uuxlm vivmdi, even if they held somewhiitilifferent vlewi4 about political matters. Itiit lon^ before the crisis of a gcnenil election occurred, Hu^'li Halfour had managed to thinic out very seriously several questions regarding the relations between hlniMulf and his young wife. He was determined that he would bo largely gen- erous and coniiiderato to her. Wlien he saw how tenderly dcvottid to him she was, when he got to know moro of those clear perceptions of duty and obedience and unhesitating unselfishness that governed her conduct, when he saw how that swuutncss und atrangu sincerity of manner of hers charmed every one who was introduced to her, surely ho had every reason to be generously considerato. It is true that ho had dreamed some sentimental dream of u helpmeet who would be constantly at his side in the rough work of the world ; but was not that his own folly ? It was a pretty notion, doubtless, but look at tho actual facts. Was it d(>sirablo that this tenderly nur- tured, sensitive girl should plunge into the ani- mosities and anxieties of political life ? Her first slight aciiuttintance, for example, with the ways of a borough election had only shocked and pained hor; nay, more, it had very nearly pro- duced a quarrelbetwcen Idm and her. This kind of risk was quite unnccossary. Ho laughed at the notion of her being an enthusiast for or against the nirmiiigham League. How c\ VI she bs deeply interested in the removal of Sii. ws- bury School, or in Lord Kimberley's relations with the Pacific Railway, or in the expedition of the Dutch against Acheen? Would he gain any more knowledge of the working of the London vestries, supposing ho dragged her dainty little foot tlirough the hideous sluriis of the great city ? At this moment ho was going off for a riding ex- cursion, after the manner of Cobbett, through Somersetshire. He wanted tj find out for him- self — for this man was no great enthusiast in politics, but had, on the other hand, a patient de- sire to satisfy himself as to facts — what were the actual conditions and aspirations of agricultural life there, and ho wanted to find out, too, what would be the chances of a scheme of sanitary re- form for the rural districts. Now of what possi- ble good could Lady Sylvia bo in inspecting pig- geries y The thing was absurd. No, no. Her place was in the roomy phaeton ho had broughi down from town for Iter, behind the two beauti- ful black horses which she drove with admirable nerve and skill. She formed part of a pretty picture as we used to see her in these moist and blustering November days. Black clouds behind the yellow elms ; the gusty south wind whirling the ruddy leaves from tho branches; a wild glare of light shining along the wet road until it gleam- ed like a canal of brilliant silver; and in the midst of this dazzling radiance the small figure perched high on the phaeton, clad all in furs, a scarlet featlier in her hat, and the sweetest of smiles for known passers-by on the fresh yoimg face. Was it any wonder that he left her to her familiar Surrey lanes, and to the amusement of ordering her small household of The Lilacs, and to the snugncss of her father's library in the evening, he going off by himself to that hum- drum business of prying about Somersetshire villiiges? He was away for about ten days in Somerset- shire. Then he wrote to her that he would re- turn to London by way of Englebury ; and she was not to expect him very soon, for he might be detained in London by a lot of business. It would not be worth her while to come up. His time would be fully occupied ; and she was much bet- ter down in Surrey, enjoying the fresh air and exercise of tlie country. He hud not the slightest doubt that she was enjoying herself. Since her marriage she had not at all lived the secluded life she had led at the Hall. Many a night there were more car- riages rolling along the dark and muddy lanes toward The Lilac3 than had driven up to the Hall in the previous month. Balfour was the most hospitable of men, now that he had some one to take direction of his dinner parties ; and as those parties were necessarily and delightfully small, there was nothing for it but to have plenty of them. The neighbors were convinced there never had been a more fortunate match. Happiness shone on the face of the young hpuse-mistress as she sat at the top of the table which had been fiorally decorated with her own hands. Her hus- band was quite openly proud of her ; he took not the slightest pains to conceal the fact, as most yoimg husbands laboriously and ineffectually do. And then tho wonderful way in which he pro- fessed to be interested about those local matters which form — aias ! — the staple of talk at rural dinner parties 1 You would have thought he had no care for any thing bej'ond horses, dogs, and pheasants. He was grieved to hear that the par- son's wife would not countenance the next charity concert; but he was quite sure that Lady Sylvia would win her over. He hoped it was not true that old Somebody or other was to be sold out of Something farm, after having occupied it for forty years; but feared it was too true that he had taken to drink. And one night, when he heard that a neighboring master of harriers had inti- mated that he would cease to hunt if he were not guaranteed a sum of £2000 a year, Balfour de- clared that he would make up whatever deficit the subscription might show. He became popu- lar in our neighborhood. He never talked about politics ; but gave good dinners instead. Indeed, tl nt i|iiito ra illi his I |llll).'llt, to III! of hum nilortby II as u very i rlilcli he dt 1)1111 culls ! IV ordinari lis man, wi I'S, could t nil drawiiif liii^ to SOI oiinj; wife < lier off' e would be lection, anc 1 tho close 10118 — WUH ) many fric )litudes, so At all eve fc sufllicien iiys been h i;; or riding lilt things ' lany friends OL'l{ or two nil but th 111 that hei mid be desi When La( oiild return lehiiry, and le was sitti lie Lilacs, ftuiriooii, th iirels and oil) the ser 3311 re. She tuu back. She read ss, and fol . Then sh( ?e(ile-work, ai'ing out a rough the e strangely jandonmen ilf on a coi id bhrst int •oud, hurt as in vain ay the part le saw her irther from id hopes w r personal id the barri ivious and those bea make thei ady a wido Then this lier turn rainst thosi isband and lip days, sh resentme; '<: that it t ver's thoug if what poRsi- Hpcuting pig- No, no. Her liad broughl two beauti- ith p.dmirable t of a pretty >se moist and clouds beliind mad whirling ; a wild glare until it gleam- '; and in the B small iigure all in furs, a ic sweetest of 5 fresh young eft her to her tmiiscment of lie Lilacs, and library in the to that hum- Somersetshire i in Somerset- , he would re- lury; and she ir he might be ess. It would up. Uia time vas much bet- fresh air and ; that she was riage she had ihe had led at ere more car- 1 muddy lanes up to the Hall was the most d some one to ; and as these ;htfully small, lave plenty of ;ed there never h. Happiness use-mistress as hich had been ids. Her hus- r ; he took not ! fact, as most leffectually do. which he pro- e local matters f talk at rural .hought he had rees, dogs, and ir that the par- he next charity lat Lady Sylvia it was not true > be sold out of pied it for forty le that he had when he heard rriers had inti- t if he were not •ar, Balfour de- rhatcver deficit e became popu- er talked about Mtead. GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. 68 Imlccd, there were ono or two of us who could nt nuito reconcile Mr. HalfourV previous history •iili his present eoiidiHit. You would have i(Miu'l)t, to hear him speak, that iiis highest no- II (if human happiness was shooting rulililts on niltiwby Heath, although, as every one knew. Ir- is a very indifferent shot. Then the fashion in liii'h he drove round with his wife, paying after- (1(111 calls ! (Jentlonien who pay aftt 'iioon calls V (irilinarily more amiable than busy ; and how lis man, with all his eager ambitions and activi- ri, could dawdle away the afternoon in a few nil drawing-rooms iu the country, was a strange liii^ to some of us. Was he so proud of this oiiiij; wife of his that he was never tired of show- ig her off? Or was it — seeing that by-and-by e would be away in the hurry and worry of an cction, and perhaps locked up for six months I the close atmosphere of the House of Coiu- lons — was it that he wIsIumI Lady Sylvia to have ! many friends as possible down in these rural ilitudcs, so as to lighten the time for her ? At all events, she seemed to enjoy her married fe sufficiently well. This neighborhood had al- iiys been her home. She was within easy driv- i; or riding distance of the Ilall, and could see lilt things were going straight there. She had any friends. When her husband left her for a 'ct?l{ or two to her own devicr-., ne had no doubt ; all but that her time would be fully occupied, 1(1 that her life was passing as pleasantly as )iii(l be desired. R When Lady Sylvia got that letter, saying he oiild return fi'oin Somersetshire by way of En- eliury, ond would remain a few days in London, le was sitting at one of the French windows of ho Lilacs, looking out on a dismal December ftuinoon, the rain slowly drizzling down on the iirels and the wet gravel-paths. She took it oin the servant, and opened it with much com- amve. She had been schooling herself for some me back. She read the letter through with great calm- ;s^, and folded it again, and put it in lier pock- Then she thought she would go and get some ;o(lle-work, for it was a melancholy business this aring out at the rain. But as .she rose to pass irough the room, the sensitive lips began to trem- c strangely ; and suddenly, with a passionate )andonmcnt of despair and grief, she tlirewiier- ilf on a couch, and hid her face in the cushion, id bhrst into a long and bitter fit of crying The poud, hurt soul could no longer contain itself. It as in vain that she had been training herself to ay the part which he had seemingly allotted her. le saw her husband being removed further and irther from her ; his interests and occupations d hopes were becoming more and more a mat- r personal to himself ; their lives were divided, id the barrier was daily growing more hopelessly ivious and impassable. Was this, then, the end those beautiful dreams of what marriage was make their future life together? Was she al- iady a widow, and forsaken? Then this wild fit of despair and grief took an- lior turn, and her heart grew hot with anger rainst those things tiiat had come between her isband and herself. Once or twice, in her court- lip days, she had entertained a passing feeling ' resentment against the House of Commons, ir that it took away from her so luncli of her ver'g thoughts ; but now a more vehement jeal- ousy possessed her, and she regarded the wholo business of public life as a conspiracy against do- niestic happiness. The Chorleys ? Xo, not tho Chorleys. These people were tooconti'inptible to come between her hii: 'landand herself, lint they were a part, and an ugly representative part, of that vulgarizing, distracting, hateful political life, which was nevertheless capable of drawing a man away from his wife and home, and hlling hi» mind with gross cares and mean ambitions. The poor, sp(iile(j, hurt child felt in her burning heart that the British Constitution had cruelly wronged her. She regarded with a bitter anger and jcal. ousy the whole scheme of representative govern- ment. Was it not those electioneeiing people, and the stupid laborers of Somersetshire, and the wretched newspapers that were writing about dozens of subjects they did not understand, who had robbed her of her husband ? A servant tapped at the door. She jumped up, and stood there calm and dignified, her back to the window, so that her face was scarcely visible in the shadow. Tho man only wanted to put some coals on the fire. After he was gone. Lady Sylvia dried her eyes, sat down once more at the window, and began to consider, her lips a trifle more firinly put together than usual. After all, there was a good deal of womanly judgment and decision about this girl, in spite of all the fanciful notions and excess of sensitive- ness that had sprung from her solitary musings. Was it seemly that she should fret like a child over her own unhappiness ? Her first duty was her duty as a wife. If her husband believed it to be better that he should fight his pubUc life alone, she would do her best in the sphere to which she had been relegated, and make his home as pleasant for him lus she could. Crying, because her husband went off by himself to Englebury ? She grew ashamed of herself. She began to ac- cuse herself with some indignation. She waa ready to say to herself that she was not tit to be any body's wife, Full of a new and eager virtue, she hastily rang the bell. The man did not fall down in a tit when she said she wanted the phaeton sent round as soon as possible, but he gently reminded her ladyship that it was raining, and perhaps the brougham — But no; her ladyship would have the phleton, and at once. Then she went up stairs to get dressed, and her maid produced all soits of water-proofs. Why so much haste ? Why the eager delight of her face ? As she drove luiskly along the wet lanes, the rain -drops were running down her cheeks, but she looked as happy and comfortable as if it had been a breezy day in June. The horses splashed the mud about ; the wheels swish- ed through the pools. In the noise, how could the man behind her hear bis young inistiess gay- ly humming to herself, "Should he upbraid, I'll own that he'll prevail?" He thought she had gone mad, to go out on a day like this, and no doubt i:ki ie some remarks to himself when he had to jump down into the mud to open a certain iron gate. Now there was in this neighborhood a lady who had for many a day been on more or less friendly terms with Ln.dy Sylvia, but who seemed to become even more intimate with her after her marriage. The fact is, Mr. Balfour appeared to take a great 5f GREEN' PASTL'RES AND PICCADILLY. liking to this penion, and wa* continually having his wifo and her brougiit together. Thone who know iicr wcli are fainiiiKr with her tricka of manner anil thinking — Iter woiHliip of ilixliopx, her Hcorn of liti«biUi(J8 in general, and her de- meanor of awful dignity, which has gained for her tlio Rtyle and title of Our Moat Hovureign Ludy Kivefoot-three ; but tiiere is no denying the fact that there ix about her eyes a certain patiietic, aflTeutodly innocent look that has un odd power over those who do nut know her well, and that invites those people to an instant friendliness and confidence. Well, this was the person whom Lady Bylvia now wished to see ; and after she had taken off her wet water-proofs in the hall, and dried her face, she went straight into the drawing- room, and In a minute or two wan joined by hur friend. " My dear Lady Sylvia," cried her Most Gra- cious Majesty, kissing the young thing with ma- ternal fondness, " what could have brought you out on such a day — and in the phaeton, too?" (jady Sylvia's cheeks were ([uite rosy after tlie rain. Her eyea were bright and glad. She said, blithely, " I came out for the fun uf it. And to beg you to give mc a cup of tea. And to have a long chat with you." Surely these were sufficient reasons. At least they satisfied the elder woman, who rang for the tea, and got it, and then assumed a '<, was tliur and and cheerful I left. It Ia8t, amid tb« muddy road — " 1 and see the Chor rning," answered out from between the black stump of those uncum- tt five and bavi lo make this ran- )ur7 solicitor, for t)out the matter, comfortable. lii Ele had Tisions o( of an ample din- tic of port-wine t again into thii >t thoroughly drj & young man wlio quircments of di- It last drove over t thoroughfare ol toked the blazing passed under tbi ie spacious arch- the hostler from own and stamped I themselves fac« lel, tall and slun- le absence of her low if the gentle- ;oing up stairs t« ! suggestion, slit joints and fowls >of of the central ung, and smiling 0," said Balfour. s looked to." ) other ; but Bal- ;he darkness. So mt to the distin- ung person, and m with her. Mr. of letting either cobs or country aolicitors stand in the way of his liiniior. And a very sound and substantial dinner it wttH that tiiey had in the snug little room uri the tirst Hour, after they had got on some dry cloth- ing and WiM'e growing warm again. TIiitu was a brink (ire blazing in tlie grate ; there were no few- er than four candles in the room, two on the tabic and two on the mahogany sideboard, tialfuur luuglied at the busineits-liko manner in which Mr. Uulillio ploughed his way through the homely feast ; but he was sharply hungry hinittelf, unil he so far departed from his ordinary habits as to call for a tankard of foaming stout. The agree- able young lady lierxeif waited on them, although she did not know as yet that one of the strangers winhed to represent her native town in Parlia- ment. She seemed a little surprised, however, when, at the end of dinner, the younger gentle- man asked whether she could send him up a clay pipe, his own wooden one havuig gone wrong, l^lie had overheard the two friends talking about very grout persons indeed as tliougli they were pretty familiar with them, and a fourpeiiny cigar from the bar would, she considered, liuve been mure appropriate. But the utlier gentleman re- deemed himself in her eyes by ordering a bottle of the very best port-wine they had in the bouse. "Gracious goodness!" cried Balfour, with a loud laugh, " vv'iut do you mean, Uolithoy" "I mean t» make myself comfortable," said the other, doggedly. "Oh, it is comfortable you call it," remarked the younger man. " Well, it is a good phrase." " Yes, I mean to make myself comfortable," said Mr. Boiitho, when he had drawn in his chair to the tire, and lit a cigar, and put a glass of port on the mantel piece, "and I also mean to give you some p.Jvice — some good and excellent ad- vice— wliich is all the more appropriate since you may b« said to be begiiming to-day your canvass of the borough of Engiebury. Well, I have had to do with a good many candidates in my time ; but I will say this for you, that you are just about the last man in the world I would choose to run for a seat if I had any choice." "That is cheerful, at any rate," said Balfour, who had lit his long clay, and was contentedly stretching out his legs to the tire. "Uo on." " I say it deliberately. If you get in at all, it won't be through any action on your own part. I would almost ratlier tight the election for you in your absence. Why, man, you have no more no- tion of conciliating any body than an arctic bear has. Don't you know you are asking a great fa- vor when you ask people to return you to Parlia- ment? You don't suppose you can clieek every constituency as you cheeked those poor wretches at Ballinascroon y" "My dear philosopher and friend," said the culprit, " I am not aware of having ever address- ed a word to any elector of Engiebury, barring your Mr. Chorley." " I don't me.in here or now," said Boiitho, who thought he would read this young man a sound lesson when he was about it. "I mean always and every where. A man can not get on in pol- itics who blurts out his opinions as you do yuur.s. You can't convince a man by calling him a fool. You have been spoiled. You got your first seat too easily, and you found yourself independent of the people who elected you. If you bad had to conciliate your constituency as some men have, it would have been UHcinl practice for you. I tell you a member of Parlianicnl lan nut atfurd Ui li« continually declaring liis npinionN, as if he had all the wisdom in the world — " Here the culprit, far fioni being meek and at- tentive, burst out Ijiiigliing, "The fact is, Uolitho, all this harangue moans that you want me to be civil to Churley. Doesn't it, now T" Mr. Uolitho, being in a pleasant humor, sufTcrod a shrewd, bland smile to appear about the cor- ners of his mouth. " Well," said Bal >ur, frankly, " I mean to be enormously civil to t'd Chorley — so long as ha doesn't show uu with , 'juie humbug. But mind you, if that old thief, who wants to sell the borough in order to ge^ a good price for hit tilched Cummon, begins to do the high virtuous business, then the ease becomes altered. Civil f Oh yes, I shall be civil imioukIi- But you don't expect me to black his ii(H>tH y'' " You see," said Mr. liuiitlio, slowly, "you are in rather an awkward position with regard to tliese two people — 1 wiii tell you that honestly. You have had no communication with them since you first saw them in Germany f " No, none." " Well, you know, my gay young friend, you pretty nearly put your foot in it by your chatHiig old Chorley about selling the piece of green. Then no sooner had they got over that tlian Lady Syl- via — You know what I mean." Balfour looked a bit annoyed. " Leave Lady Sylvia out oi' it," said he. " .Slio does not want to interfere in tlieso things at ail." "No," said Mr. Boiitho, cautiously; "but you see there is the effect of that — that remark of lu-rs to be removed. The Chorleys may have forjjoL- ten ; they will make allowances — " "They can do as they like about that," s;.i 1 Balfour, bluntly ; "but Lady Sylvia won't umuii.j them again. Now as to tlie bit of couii,iii.< 'i" " Well, if I were you, I would say uolh. irt her feelings; but pray tell her too that my wife is not conscious of having said any thing that demands an apology." And so this mad young man and his companion Eiit out, and )j;lel)iiry in t in vain tin teou-3 prayei ? He w( ittoniless pit K)lo{;ize for a le election ? ere ten thous " I tell you I iJ the despt mediately g is wife will ^ ink of contei lorley combii Nature had iigh Balfour "I tell youi 13 neither to mething had u in turn thr me ; and, wl eau to win it AI " BOLTTIIO," mpanions wi in train, " wl in ft to her t ' annoyed to 'Cteil with ai: c bettor out Now Mr. Be liding princi sy-2oin'j; gen here, or at lei aroely have : iind in whic igluly, some 'cn involved i|)et\i()U3 ten it!) the rulin< "I don't th tliiit I am lili "What do 3 t out to wall "Oh, well, y iientary agcr ee, " I have ct nie if I an e as a rathe n, who is 11 ibery and co re from her nsidered me econspiracv "Yes, I thi ugli, " and I e author of IS all a joke Iking about i "inp;mird is that soit, a have said m fiiet," he at «h my wife 1 ? squabble." ''Quite righ «rd, watchful^ iden has any I seat." awayon Bal- lid he, curtly, seat y" 1 the tnornent b election, the d. The thin ler. Instead T her specta- :, that was at ttr. Balfour," say that it is ion any such ke of it, you were applied er apologized f explanation I the deep-set > such people the tone in f Mr. Bolitho i spoke hast- B of the folly t politics. I I a matter to 111 silence. A Mrs. Chorley accents, and not interfere orning. £u- ' manner out the situati(/n ooked rather bound to xs- i he, -ather —is unusual. n expression ^nly our due p" his feet, and Celtic blood y, man, yon sry word my lu expect her : for your for- itiness at the he said then, IS you should ce in the bor- an absolute id that I was raste land, or : them a pub- of your head Mr. Chorley. iry sorry if I tell her too ring said any is companion GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. 69 Eiit out, and walked down the main street of ));lel)iiry in the pleasant sunshine. And it was in vain thnt Mr. Bolitho tried to put in his teou-3 prayeis and remonstrances. The bor- ii-h ? He would ;;cc the borougli sink into the ittoniless pit before he would allow his wife to lologize for a speech that did her infinite honor ! le election ? He would fight the place if there ere ten thousand Chorleys arrayed against him ! " I tell you you have gone stark staring mad," iJ the despairing Mr. Bolitho. " Chorley will mediately go over to Harnden — you will see. is wife will goad him to it. And how can you ink of contesting the seat against Harnden and lorley combined ?" Nature had not conferred a firm jaw on Mr. iigh Balfour for nothing. "I tell you in turn," said the young man, who 13 neither to hold nor to bind, simply because mething had been said about his wife — " I tell 11 in turn that I mean to contest the seat all the mc; and, what is more, by the Lord Harry, I ean to win it 1" CHAPTER XX. AT A CERTAIN CLUB. " Bolitho," said Mr. Hugh Balfour, as the two mpanions were preparing to leave for the Lon- in train, " when you see my wife, don't say any inft to her about this affair. She would only annoyed to think that she was in any way con- 'Cteil with such a wretched wrangle. Women c bettor out of these things." Now Mr. Bolitho was somewhat vexed. The liding principle in life of this bland, elderly, sy-ioinc; gentleman was to make friends every here, or at least acquaintances, so that you coiild aroely have mentioned to him ti borough in En- iinil in which he did i '>t know, more or less iglitly, some man of intiuence. And here he had )cn involved in a quarrel — all because of the ipptiiDUS temper of this foolish young man — itii the ruling politician of Englebury ! "I don't think," said he, with :. wry smile, tliiit I am likely to see Lady Sylvia." " What do you mean ■"' Balfour asked, as they t out to walk to the station. "Oh, well, you know," replied the astute Parli- nenlary agent, with tliis sorry laugh still on his ee, " I have a strong suspicion — you will cor- ct nie if I am wrong — that Lady Sylvia looks on e as a rather dangerous and disreputable per- n, who is likely to lead you into bad ways — ibery and corruption, and all that, i am quite re from her manner to me at Mainz that she nsidered me to be the author of an abomina- c conspiracy to betray the people of Englebury." "Yes, I think she did," Balfour said, with a ugli, " and I think she was right. You were e author of it, no doubt, Bolitho. But then it i-s all a joke ; we were all in it, to the extent of lidng about it. What I wish to impress on your iiinf!; mird is that women don't understand jokes that soit, and — and it would have been wiser have said nothing about it before Lady Sylvia. fiit't," he added, with more fiiinness, " I don't »h my wife to be mixed up ic any electioneer- ? squabble." '' Quite right, quite right," responded Mr. Boli- tho, with grave suavity ; but he knew very well why Mr. Hugh Balfour had never asked him to dine at The Lilacs. " Now," said Balfour, when they had reached the station and got their tickets, " we shall be in London between six and seven. What do you say to dining with me * I shall be a bachelor for a few evenings, before going down to the coun- try." Mr. Bolitho was nothing loath. A club dinner would be grateful after his recent experience of rural inns. " At the Oxford and Cambridge, or the Reform ? Which shall it be ?" asked the young man, care- lessly. But Mr Lolitho regarded it as a serious mat- ter. He was intimately acquainted with the cook- ing at both houses — in fact, with the cooking at pretty nearly every club in the parish of St James's. After some delay, he chose the Reform ; and he was greatly relieved when he saw his com- panion go off to telegraph to the steward of the club to put down his guest's name in the books. That showed forethought. He rather dreaded Mr. Balfour's well-known inditference about such mat- ters. But if he was telegraphing to the steward, surely there was nothing to fear. Aiid when at length they reached London, and had driven straight on to the club, the poor man had amply earned his dinner. He had been cross-examined about this person and that per- son, had been driven into declaring his opinion on this question and that, had been alternately laughed at and lectured, until he thought the rail- way journey was never going to end. And now as they sat down at the small white table Mr. Balfou'- was in a more serious mood, and was talking about the agricultural laborer. A paper had just been read at the Farmers' Club which would doubtless be very valuable as giving the employers'' side of the question; did Mr. Bolitho know where a fr.li report of that address could begot? Mr. Bolitho was mutely staring at the framed bill of fare that the waiter had brought to the table. Was it possible, then, that Balfour had ordered no dinner at all ? Was he merely going to ask — in flagrant violation of the rules of the club — for some hap-hazard thing to take the place of a properly prepared dinner ? "Will you have some soup? Do you ever take soup?" asked his host, absently; and bia heart sank within him. " Yes, I will take some soup," said he, gloom- il.V- They had the soup. Mr. Balfour was again plunged in the question of agricultural labor. He did not notice that the waiter was calmly standing over them. ' "Oh," said he, suddenly recalling himself — " fish ? Do you ever take fish, Bolitho ?" " Well, yes, I will take some fish," said Mr. Boli- tho, somewhat petulantly : at this rate of waiting they would finish their dinner about two in the morning. " Bring some fish, waiter — any fish — salmon," said he, at a venture ; for he was searching in a handful of papers for a letter he wished to show his guest. When he was informed that there was no salmon, ho asked for any fish that was ready, or any joint that was ready ; and then he succeeded in &iding the letter. 60 GKEEX PASTURES They had Bome fish too. He was talking now about the recently formed association of the em> ployera of labor. He absently poured out a glass of water and drank some of it. Mr. Bolitho's temper was rising. " My dear fellow," Balfour said, suddenly ob- serving that his guest's plate was empty, "I beg your pardon. You'll have some joint now, won't you? They always have capital joints here; and it saves so much time to be able to come in at a moment's notice and have a cut. I generally make that my dinner. Waiter, bring some beef, or mutton, or whatever there is. And you were saying, Bolitho, that this association might turn out a big thing?" Mr. Bolitho was now in a pretty thorough-going rage. He had not bad a drop of any thing to drink. In fact, he would nut drink any thing now — not even water. He would sooner parch with thirst. But if ever, he vowed to himself — if ever again he was so far left to himself as to accept an invitation to dine with this thick-head- ed and gloweringeyed Scotchman, then he would allow them to put strychnine in every dish. If Mr. Bolitho had not got angry over the wretched dinner he was asked to eat, he would frankly have reminded his host that he want- ed something to driuk. But his temper once be- ing up, he had grown exceedingly bitter about the absence of wine. He had become proud. He longed for a glass of the water before him, but be would not take it. He would wait for the satisfaction of seeing his enemy overcome with shame when his monstrous neglect was re- vealed to him. Temper, however, is a bad substitute for wine when a man is thii-siy. Moreover, to all appear- ance, this crass idiot was likely to finish his din- ner and go away without any suspicion ttiat he had grievously broken the laws of common de- cency and hospitality. He took a little sip of water now and again as innocently as a dipping swallow. And at length Mr. Bolitho could bear it no longer. Thirst and rage combined were choking him. " Don't you think, Balfour," said he, with an outward calm that revealed nothing of the wild volcano within — " don't you think one might have a glass of wine of some sort?" Balfour, with a stare of surprise, glanced round the table. There certainly was no wine there. " My dear fellow," said he, with the most ob- vious and heart-felt compunction, " I really beg your pardon. What wine do you drink ? Will you have a glass of sher;y?" Bolitho was on the point of returning to his determination of drinking nothing at all; but the consuming thirst within was too strong for him. He was about to accept this offer sulkily, when the member for Ballinascroon seemed to recollect that he was entertaining a guest. " Oh no," he said, anxiously ; " of course you will have some Champagne. Waiter, bring the wine list. Tiiere you are, Bolitho ; pick out what you want, like a good fellow. It was really very forgetful of me." By this time they had got to the celery and cheese. Mr. Bolitho had scarcely had any din- ner ; his thirst had prevented his eating, and his anger had driven him into a most earnest and polite attention to his companion's conversation. AND PICCADILLY. ntea somet ButwhentheChampagnearriTed,andhehaddn inions wen< the first glass at a draught, nature revived wit Now when him. The strained and glassy look left his e; luse in Pic his natural bland expression began to app* inecessary He attacked the cheese and celery with vi{ td telegrap The wine was sound and dry, and Mr. Boli ways left had some good leeway to make up. He b^ m, as he in to look on Balfour as not so bad a sort of fell iring his si after all ; it was only his tremendous earnestn that made him forgetful of the smaller tliii around him aa Jackson "Hallo, Ji " Yes, Sir. ou, Sir, up 8 He went u ID letter, hat formal nd dutiful, le he might " And so," said he, with a dawning smile bra go to get th ing over his face, " you mean to go, unaided t alone, and fight the whole paction of your e mies in Englebur}' — the Chorleys, old Harnc Reginald Key, and the bunting parson — all gether?" " Well," said Mr. Balfour, cheerfully, " I sha' try it if I can see an easier chance elsewhere. B > dine with I am not afraid. Don't you see how I should i le servants peal to the native dignity of the electors to r e should no and assert itself against the political slavery tl he could ( has been imposed on the borough ? Bolitho, { ad got old glcbury shall be free. Eiiglebury shall suffer le house, longer the dictation of an interested solicitor." ortant busi "That's all very well," said Mr. Bolitho; "b is visit to J Chorley owns half the Englebiiry Mercury." nt short hii " I will start the Eiwltbury Banner." us amusin; " And suppose Haruden should resign in hi n So-and-so of Key ¥" cut her two " My dear friend, I have heard on very go f rabbits, authority that there is not the least chance 'lump on Key being in England at tiiat time. The govci toard schoo meut are sure to tiy the effect of some other n icfik — and i larious place. I have heard several consulslii He put tl and island governorships suggested ; but you i welling on quite right — lie is a hard man to kill ; and 1 1 nu at Ex( " Yes, I dare say," said Balfour, with a slig leii"g with change in his manner. " But it is not Lady S) mramer ev€ via's wish — and it certainly isn't mine — that si l>y Park. I should meddle in any election. There are soi Mger comp women fitted for that kind of thijig (doubtle»ciests and excellent women in their way), but she is not o(;>ving whic of them, and I don't particularly care that si should be." Mr. Bolitho felt that he had made a mistal and he resolved in future not to mention Li Sylvia at all. This wild adoration on the part the young man might pass away ; it might en pass away before the general election came on, which case Balfour might not be averse from haj ing her pretty face and serious eyes win him ovi a few friends. In the mean time Mr. BolitI e jumped own the n He woul( nd vain r( |was, Was lomething "he herself had lUDconunon red, and he had d ature revived wit lendous earnestn the smaller tiiii iug parson — ^all licerfully, " I sha' mgh? bury shall suffer .'rested solicitor." I Mr. Bolitho; ury Meretir^." Banner." >uld resign in fai GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLT. ei Died something about a cigar, and the two com- inions went up stairs. Now when Balfour drove up that night to his y look left his e Ause in Piccadilly, he was surprised to see an n began to apjx inecessary number of rooms dimly lighted. He I celery with vi{ id telegraphed to the housekeeper, whom they ry, and Mr. fioli ways left there, to have a bedroom ready for ake up. He bej m, as he intended to have his meals at his club >ad a sort of felli iring his short stay in town. When he rang, it aa Jaukson wiio opened the door. " Hallo, Jackson," said he, " are you here ?" " Yes, Sir. Her ladyship sent us up two days awning smile bre&o to get the house ready. There is a letter for 111, Sir, up stairs." He went up stairs to his small study, and got rleys, old HnrndAc letter. It was a pretty little message, some- hat formal in style, to be sure, but affectionate nd dutiful. Lady Sylvia had considered it proba- le he might wish to have some gentlemen friends nee elsewhere. I > dine with him while in town, and she had sent ee how I should) le servants up to have every thing ready, so that the electors to r e should not have to depend entirely on his club, olitical slavery tl he could get on very well with Anne, and she Bolitiiu, 1 ad got old Blake over from the Hall to sleep in 36 house. She added that as he might have im- ortant business to transact in connection with is visit to Englcbury, he was on no account to lit short his stay in London prematurely. She ■as amusing herself very well. She had called n So-aiul-so and So-and-so. Her papa had just out her two brace of pheasants and any number leard on very go f rabbits. The harriers had met at Willowby he least chance 'lump on the previous Siiturdny. The School time. The govci loard school was to be finished on the following of some other several consul.shi lested ; but you 1 to kill ; and I far has been o\v sven with him sw r hunting parson I in ten minutes, but I have a aim agine him — a I'oi red, good-humon eek — and so forth He put the letter on the table, his eyes still welling on it thoughtfully; and he lit his pipe, ml sank into a big easy-chair. Poor old Syllabus," he was thinking — for he sufficiently dea( a'.i<:lit up this nickname from Johnny BIythc 'tills is her notion of duty, that she should shut ii'isolf lip in an empty house !" Anil indeed, as he lay and pondered there, the louse in which he was at this moment seemed ei'v empty too ; and his wile, he felt, was far way from him, separated from him by something and of port-wii nore than miles. It was all very well for him to ictiiig a stern d ;row proud and reserved when it was suggested him that Lady Sylvia should help him in his my ally — not i lext canvass ; it was all very well for him to build ip tlieo ies to the effect that her pure, noble, sen- ifith a sentimeni litive mind were better kept aloof from the vul- :ould not pei'sua ;ar traHie of politics. But even now he began to foa. When a a 'ccall some of the dreams he had dreamed in his etty, pleasant-ina >aeliclor days — in his solitary walks home from help she can gi he House, in his friendly confidences with his old ihuiu at Exeter, and most of all when he was wan- four, with a slig icring with Lady Sylvia herself on those still it is not Lady Si luromer evenings under the great elms of Willow- n't mine — that a )y Park. He had looked forward to a close and . There are eoi sugcr companionship, an absolute identity of in- f thipg (doubtle tcrests and feelings, a mutual and constant help- but she is not oi giving which had never been realised. Suddenly arly care that si ic jumped to his feet, and began to walk up and down the room. 1 made a mistali He would not give himself up to idle dreams ; to mention Lai nnd vain regrets. It was doubtless better as it tion on the part ^tia. Was he a child, to long for sympathy when ay ; it might en Bomething unpleasant had to be gone through f cction came on, She herself had shown him how her quick, proud e averse from haH-. 'i* ^ had revolted from a proposal that was no eyes win him orf unconuuon thing in public life ; better that the time Mr. BolitI should preserve this purity of oonscience tBan that she should be able to aid hun by dabbling in doubt- ful schemes. The rough work of the world was not for that gentle and beautiful bride of his ; but rather the sweet content and quiet of country ways. He began to fret about the engagements of the next few days to which he had pledged him- self. He would rather have gone down at once to The Lilacs, to forget the babble and turmoil and v«xations of politics in the tender society of that most loving of all friends and companions. How- ever, that was impossible. Instead, he sat down and wrote her an affectionate and merry letter, in which he said not one word of what had happen- ed at Englebury, beyond recording the fact of hia having been there. Why should he annoy her by letting her suppose thr.t she had been mixed up in a squabble with such a person as Eugeuius Chorley? CHAPTER XXL HIS RETURN. It was with a buoyant sense of work well done that Balfour, on a certain Saturday morning, got into a Hansom and left Piccadilly for Victoria Sta- tion. He had telegraphed to Lady Sylvia to drive over from The Lilacs to meet him, and he pro- posed tiiat now he and she should have a glad holiday-time. Would she run down to Brighton for the week preceding Christmas V Would she go over to Paris for the New- Year? Or would she prefer to spend both Christmas and New- Year among the evergreens of her English home, with visits to neighboring friends, and much ex- citement about the decoration of the church, and a pleased satisfaction in giving away port-wine and fiannels to the properly pious poor ? Any- how, he would share in her holiday. He would ride with her, drive with her, walk with her ; he would shoot LoT-d Willowby's rabbits, and liavrj luncheon at the HtxW ; in the evening, in the warm, hushed room, she would play for him while he smoked, or they wouhl have confidential chatting over the appearance and circumstances and dis- positions of their friends. What had this tender and beautiful child to do with politics? She her- self had shown him what was her true sphere ; he would not have that shy and sensitive conscience, that proud, pure spirit, hardened by rude associa- tions. It is true, Balfour had a goodly bundle of papers, reports, and blue-books in his bag. But that was merely for form's sake — a precaution, perhaps, against his having to spend a solitary half hour after she had gone to bed at nights. There could be no harm, for example, in his put- ting into shape, for future use, the notes he had made down in Somersetshire, just as occasion of- fered. But he would not seek the occasion. And all things combined to make this reunion with his wife a happy one. It was a pleasant omen that, whereas he had left London in a cold gray fog, no sooner had he got away from the great town than he found the country shining in clear sunlight. Snow had fallen overnight; but while the snow in Buckingham Palace Road was trampled into brown mud, here it lay with a soft white lustre on the silent fields and the hedges and the woods. Surely it was only a bridal robe that Nature wore on this beautiful morning — a half-transparent robe of pearly white that caught «2 GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. here and there a pale tint of blue from the clear ekica overhead. Uc had a whole bundle of week- ly newspapers, illustrated and otherwise, in the carriage with him, but he never thought of read- ing. And thou<;li the wind w,\» cold, he let it blow ii-eely through the open windows. This was better than hunting through the rookeries of London. He caught sight of her just as the train was Blowing into the station. She was seated high in the phaeton that stood in the roadway, and she was eagerly looking out for him. Her face was flushed a rose-red with the brisk driving through the keen winu ; the sunlight touched the firmly braided masses of her hair and the delicate oval of her cheek ; and as he went out of the station- house into the road, the beautiful, tender, gray- blue eyes were lit up by such a smile of gladness as ought to have been sulHcicnt welcome to him. "Well, old Syllabus," said he, "how have you been V dying your eyes out V" " Oh no, not at all," shvj said, seriously. " I have been very busy. You will see what I have been doing. And what did you mean by sending the servants down again V" " I did not want to have you starve, while I had the club to fall back on. Where the — " But at this moment the groom appeared with the packages he had been sent for. Balfour got up beside his wife, and she was about to drive off, when they were accosted by a gentlemanly-look- ing man who had come out of the station. " I beg your pardon — Mr. Balfour, I believe?" " That is my name." " I beg your pardon, I am sure ; but I have an appointment with Lord Willowby — and — and I can't get a fly here — " " Oh, I'll drive you over," said Balfour, for he happened to be in an excellent humor: had he not been, he would probably have told the stranger where to get a fly at the village. The stranger got in behind. Perhaps Lady Sylvia wuuld, in other circumstances, have entered into conversa- tion with a gentleman who was a friend of her father's; but there was a primness about his whiskers and a certain something about his dress and manner that spoke of the City, and of course she could not tell whether his visit was one of courtesy or of commerce. She continued to talk to her husband so that neither of the two people behind could overhear. And Balfour had not the slightest conscious- ness of caution or restraint in talking to this bright and beautiful young wife of his. It seem- ed to him quite natural now that he should cease to bother this loving and sensitive companion of his about his anxieties and commonplace labors. He chatted to her about their favorite horses and dogs ; he heard what pheasants had been shot in Uphill Wood the day before ; he was told what invitations to dinner awaited his assent ; and all the while they were cheerfully whirling through the keen, exhilarating air, crossing the broad bars of sunlight on the glittering road, and startling the blackbirds in the hedges, that shook down the powdery snow as they darted into the dense holly-trees. " You have not told me," said Lady Sylvia, in a Bomewhat measured tone, though he did not notice that, "whether your visit to Englebury was successful." " Oh," said he, carelessly, " that was of no im- portance. Nothing was to be done then. Iti be time enough to think of Englebury when i general election comes near." Instead of Englebury, he began to talk to I about Brighton. He thought they might di down there for a week before Christmas, began to tell her of all the people whom he kn who happened to be at Brishton at the mome It would be a pleasant variety for her ; she woi meet some charming people. " No, thank you, Hugh," she said, somcwl coldly ; " I don't think I will go down to Briglii at present. But I think you ought to go." "I?" said he, with a stare of amazement, " Yes ; these people might be of use to yt If a general election is coming on, you can i tell what influence they might be able to <;: you." " My dear child," said he, fairly astonished lli she should speak in this hard tone about ctiti quite innocent people in Brighton, " I don't h to see those people because tliey might be of i to me. I wanted you to go down to Briglii merely to please you." " Thank you, I don't think I can go down Brighton." "Why?" "Because I can not leave papa at preseu she said. "What's the matter with him?" said Balfoi getting from mystery to mystery. " I can not tell you now," she said, in a voice. " But I don't wish to leave The Lilacs long as he is at the Hall ; and he has been gui very little up to London of late." " Very well ; all right," said Balfour, cheerf ly. " If you prefer The Lilacs to Brighton, so I. I thought it might be a change for you — tl was all." But why should she seem annoyed because had proposed to take her down to Brigliioi And why should she speak despitef ully of a nu ber of friends v,'ho would have given her a ni( hearty welcome ? Surely all these people coi not be in league with the British House of Co mons to rob her of her husband. In any case, Balfour took no heed of tli( passing fancies of hers. He had registered mental vow to the effect that, whenever he coi not quite understand her, or whenever her wist clashed with his, he would show an unfailing oi sideration and kindness toward this tender s( who had placed her whole lilt^iu his hands, i that consideration was about to be put to i test of a sharp strain. With some hesitation ; informed him, as they drove up to the Hall, tl her uncle and aunt were staying there for a d or two. Very well ; there was no oi)joctiou that. If he had to shake hands with Major t Honorable Stephen BIytlic, was tiu're not i-o and water at The Lilacs ? But Liidy Sylvia pi ceeded to say, with still greater dillidence, tl probably they would be down again in about t days. They had been in the habit of spcmii Christmas at tlia Hall ; and Johnny and Honoi had come too ; so that it was a sort of aniii family party. Very well; he had no object! to that either. It was no concern of his wlu Major Blythe ate his Christmas dinner. I) when Lady Sylvia went on to explain, with m'easing hesitation, that herself and her husba would be expected to be of this Christmas ga GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. done then. It iiglebury when i >gan to talk to I ; they might d re Christmas, pie whom he km on at the mome for her ; she woi fie said, somcw J down to Briglii )ught to go." >f amazement be of use to vi ig on, you can It be able to <:: irly astonished tli tone about cciti iton, " I don't wa ley might be of t down to Bright I can go down papa at present lira ?" said Balfot Jry. siie said, in a leave The Lilacs 1 he has been gui te 1 Balfour, cheert ! to Brigliton, so ange for you — tl nnoyed because own to Brigluui spitefully of a nu e given her a nit these people cot :i8h House of Co nd. no heed of tin had registered whenever he cot henever her wisl w an unfailing a rd this tender s( in his hands. , to be put to I some hesitation .> ip to the Hall, tl iiig there for a i as no oiijcction uds with Major t as thf're not t^o ut Liuly riylviu p Iter (iillidcnce, tl again iu about t habit of speniii ohnny and Hono 8 a sort of anni 3 had no object! ncern of his wli tmas dinner. 1 to explain, with ;lf and her husba «ring, Ur. Balfour mentally made use of a phrase which was highly iniproper. She did not hear it, of course. They drove up to the Hall in silence ; and when they got into the house, Balfour shook hands with Major Blythe with all apparent good nature. Lord Willowby had wished the stranger to fol- low him into the library. In a few moments he returned to the drawing-room. He was obviously greatly disturbed. " You must excuse me, Sylvia ; I can not pos- sibly go over with you to lunch. I have some business which will detain me half an hour at least — perhaps more. But your uncle and aunt can go with you." That was the first Balfour had heard of Major Blythe and his wife having been invited to lunch at his house ; but had he not sworn to be grand- ly considerate? He said nothing. Lady Sylvia tinned to her two relatives. Now had Lord Wil- lowby been going over to The Lilacs, his brother inii^ht have ventured to accompany him ; but Ma- jor Blythe scarcely liked the notion of thrusting Lis head into that lion's den all by himself. " My dear," said the doughty warrior to his wife, " I think we will leave the young folks to thuniselvcM for to-day — if they will kindly excuse iirt. You know I promised to walk over and see that mare at the farm." Balfour said nothing at all. He was quite con- tent when he got into the phaeton, his wife once more taking the reins. He bade good-by to Wil- lowby Hall without any pathetic tremor in his voice. "Hugh," said Lady Sylvia, somewhat timidly, "1 think you are prejudiced against my uncle; I am very sorry — " "1 don't look on your uncle," said Balfour, with much coolness, "as being at all necessary to my existence, and I am sure I am not necessary to his. We each of us can get on pretty well witiiout the other." "But it is dreadful to have members of one family iu — in a position of antagonism or dislike to each other," she ventured to say, with her heart heating a trifle more pidly. " Well, yes," he said, cheerfully. " I suppose Major Blythe and I are members of the same family, as we are all descended from Adam. If that is what you mean, I admit the relationship ; but not otherwise. Come, Sylvia, let's talk about something else. Have you seen the Von Rosens lately'-" For an instant she hesitated, eager, disappoint- ed, and wistful ; but she pulled her courage to- gether, and answered with seeming good-will. "Oh yes," she said. "Mr. Von Rosen called yesteru.iy. And the strangest thing has happen- ed. Aw uncle of his wife has just died in some distant place in America, and has left a large amount of property to Mrs. Von Rosen, on condi- tion she goes out there some time next year, una remains for a year at the house that has bejn left her. And she is not to take her child .en with her. Mrs. Von Rosen declares she won''- go. She won't leave her children for a whole year. They want her to go and live in some desert place just below the Rocky Mountains." " A desert !" he cried. " Why, don't you know that the neighborhood of the Rocky Mountains has been my ideal harbor of refuge whenever I tiis Christmas ga thought of the two worst chaucea that can befall one y If I were suddenly made a pauper, I should go out there and get a homestead free from the government, and try my hand at building up my own fortunes. Or if I were suddenly to break down in health, I should make immediately for the high plains of Colorado, where the :iir is like Champagne ; and I would become a stock-raiser and a mighty hunter in spite of all the bronchitis or consumption that could attack one. Why, I know a lot of fellows out there now ; they live the rudest life all day long — riding about the plains to look after their herds, making hunting excursions up into the mountains, and so forth ; and in the evening they put on dress-coats to din- ner, and have music, and try to make themselves believe they are in Piccadilly or Pall Mall. Who told her it was a desert V" " I suppose it would be a desert to her without her children," said Lady Sylvia, simplj'. "Then we will go over after luncli and reason with that mad creature," said he. " The notion of throwing away a fortune because she won't go out and live in that splers, need not be stated nt present. Enou!;h tlmt Bal- four and his wife, having spent the host part of the afternoon with these neigliboring f I'icnds of theirs, went home to dine by tiiemsclves in the evening. And Balfour had been looking forward during this past fortnight to the delight of having his wife all to himself again; and he had pictured the still little room, her seated at the piano, jicr- haps, or perhaps both seated nt the tire, and ail troubles and annoyances hunted out into the cold winter night. This was the now plan. When he looked at her — at the true, sweet, serious, trusting eyes, and at the calm, pensive, guileless forehead — he began to wonder how he could ever, in his selfish imaginations, have thought of hav- ing her become a sort of appanage of himself in his public life. Would he wish her to become a shifting and dextrous wire-j). "er, paying court to this man, flattering anotiicr, patronizing a third, all to further her husband's interests ? That, at all events, was not what he wished her to be now. He admired her for her couiageous protest against that suggested scheme for the bribing of Englebury. Not for a hundred seats in Parliament would he have his wife make in- terested professions of friendship for such people as the Chorleys. The proper place for the high- souled young matron was the head of her own table, or a seat by the fire in her own drawing- room ; and it was there that he hoped to gain rest, and swoct encouragement, and a happy I'or- getfulness of all the vulgar strife of the outside world. " Sylvia," he said, suddenly, at dinner, " why do you look so depressed ? What is the matter « :th you V" " Oh, nothing," she said, rot-.sing herself, and making an effort — not very succes.^fid — to talk about this American trip. Then she relapsed into silence again, and the dinner was not a cheerful feast. " Are you tiie*! ?" he asked again. " Perhaps you had better go and lie down for a while." No, she was not tired. Nor did she go, as was her wont after dinner, into the next room and bo- gin to play a few of the airs and pieces that lie Uked. She eat down by the firs opposite hiniL M GREEN PASTURES AND PIGCADILLT. Her face ww troubled, and her eyes distant and ' Come, Sylvia," he said, as he lit his pipe, "you are vexed about something. What is it? What is the trouble ?" " I am not vexed, really. It is no matter," she again answered. Well, as his motto was " Live and let live," he was not bound to goad her into confidences she was unwilling to make ; and as the enforced si- lence of the room was a rather painful and lugu- brious business, he thought he might as well have a look at one or two of the papers he had brought down. He went and fetched his uiig. He sat down with his back to the light, and was soon deep in soiue report as to the water supply of London. Happening to look up, however, he found that his wife was silently crying. Then he impa- tiently threw the book on the table, and demand- ed to know the caus"* Perhaps there was some roughness in his voice ; but, at all events, she sud- denly flung herself down before him, and buried her face on his knees, and burst into a fit of wild sobbing, in which she made her stammering con- cession. It was all about her father. She could not bear to see him suffering this terrible anxie- ty. It was killing him. She was sure the man who had come down in the train had something to dc with these pecuniary troubles, and it was dreaJful to her to think that she and her bus- bar d had all they could destine, while her father was driven to despair. All this and more she sobbed out like a penitent child. Bulfour put his hand gently on her soft brown hair. " Is that all, Sylvia ?" he said. " If it is only money your father wants, he can have that. I will ask him." She rose — her eyes still streaming with tears — and kisaprt him twice. And then she grew gayer in spirit, and went and played some music for him while he smoked his pipe. But as he smoked he thought, and his thoughts were rather bitter about a man who, wanting money, had not the courage to osk for it, but had degraded his daughter into the position of being a beggar for it. And as Mr. Balfour was a business-like per- son, though he had not been trained up to com- merce, he determined to ascertain exactly how Lord Willowby'a affairs stood before proffering him this promised help. CHAPTER XXII. FRIENOS AND NEIGHBORS. Therk was a brisk fire in the breakfast-room at The Lilacs, and the frosty December sunlight, streaming through the window, touched the white table-cloth with a ruddy and cheerful glow. A man of about thirty, tall, stalwart-looking, with a huge brown mustache and a partially cropped beard, light blue eyes, and a healthy complexion, stood on the hearth-rug with his hands compla- cently fixed in his pocket. This was Count— or rather, as he had dropped his courtesy title since settling down in England, Mr. — Von Rosen, who had served as lieutenant in the Franco-German war, ar.d had subsequently fr)'<%n in love with and married a young English la»/, who had per- is licttcr sti Bult'our will Lady Syl iLpart from [>f hers, she a the anius ifu. She St )e very ugre tud then slu iij; that lett "What d< "Oil yes,' lome reverii {usen. It \ f, liowever, ;o, ihouf^h II iri', us 1 liavi hittfiilig to iiU(.'h wurk i ant iJiuusun II, I .siipi (lllL-iC'l to L lis case t'oi' wo men at i. I) lii.s wil'i', ' I) run ilow n ■uaded bim to make England his home. He wai a young man of superfluous energy, of great good |^" ^^^ ^ humor and good spirits, who made himself i nuisance to the neighborhood in which he lived by the fashion in which he insisted on other peo. pie joining him in his industrious idleness. For example, he had on this very morning, at seven o'clock, sent a letter to Mr. Hugh Balfour, of whose arrival at The Lilacs he had only heard on the previous night, urging him to join a certain shooting party. Lady Sylvia was to drive over with them, and spend the day with two ladies whom she knew. He himself would call at nine, And so he stood here with his hands in his pock- et, apparently quite contented, but nevertheless wondering why English people should be so late with their breakfast. "Ah," said he, with his face brightening, as Balfour entered the room. " You are ready to go f But I have to beg your pardon very much, My man says you were not awake when he brought the letter ; it was stupid of him to send it to your room." "On the contrary," said Balfour, as he me chanically took up a handful of letters that were lying on the table, " I have to beg your pardon for keeping you waiting. I thought I would put on my shooting boots before coming down. Lady Sy via will be here presently. Come, what do you ""^ "" ^ ' I" say to having some breakfast with us?" He was scanning the outside of the various en' velopes with something of an absent air. There was nothing meditative about the German ex lieutenant. He had once or twice allowed his highly practical gaze to fall on a certain game pie. " A second breakfast ?" said he. " Yes, per- hap.\ it is better. My first breakfast was at sii. And m tiiese short days it is foolishness to waste time at the luncheon. Oh yes, I will have some breakfast. And in the mean time why do you not read your letters V " Well, the fact is," said Balfour, " my wife thinks I should have a clear holiday down here, and I have been wondering whether it is an; use—" But quite mechanio:iiiy, while he was speaking, he had opened one of the letters, and he paused in his speech as he read its contents. " By Jove," said he, partly to him i\i and part- ly to his companion, " they must be pretty certain that I shall be in the next Parliament, or the; would not offer to put this in my hands. Per- haps they don't know that I am sure to be kick- ed out of Ballinascroon." At this moment Lady Sylvia entered the room, and that young lady wenc up to the German lieu- tenant in the most winning and gracious way — for he was a great friend of hers — and thanked him very prettily for the trouble he had taken about this invitation. " Trouble V" he said, with a laugh. " No, no. It is a good drive over to Mr. Lefevre's, and I shall have nice company. And you will And him such a fine fellow — such a good, fine fellow — if you will meet him some night at our house. Lad; Sylvia ; and your husband will see, when we be- gin the shooting, that there is no selfishnees in him at all — he will pre'er that his friends have more sho<>ting than himself, and his keepers the; know that too —and my wife she says if you will be so good as to stay with her all the day, we All till' _ lii'v had silt k'lurc auswi lilCilll,'!' liu \ ;■ OlIlLT lililt iiiiit'wlnit |i: " i tiiiiik i no .siiuii^ei' ivsuiit time "Why sin ".'^i; near me |irou(l liai'v' niii;k 1 ii time to "On, well, I iliil nut n le fi^'ht ; li:i hill wo imovor, I I iJiice. V r. Ijclevre otfei' y I lei' i;\- your: It was by I < notice his ' |i:iiu and :• iliii not (J Jfc that fe uii ill a see( " Hy-tiie-w I London tc «ill telegrii iih; and to tie arrange )t linished i " I do not ate idler. ou liave (in And so the !(i to go ovt d I'cmain u the dog-ca ed. When a bonny c will come back that way in the aftcrnoun — and it is liettcr still, a great deal ':uttcr, if you and Mr. Balfour will stay to dine witli us." Lady Sylvia, was very pleased and grateful. Apart from her personal liking fur these friends ai Iters, she was glad to find her hui \' nia;ie up 1 lieir fa aily parties. It is scaree- a lime to Invite sua" ;ers." " Oii, well," said he, w ith a good-natured laugh, 1 dill not mei.n to of.' Mid you. I dare say you e right; an evening devoted to talking about is l)di would not have been lively for you. owever, I must see my two patrv)ns, and that : once. Von Ho.sen, would you mind saying to r. I.efevre how much I thank him for his friend- utfcr y I fear 1 must let you liave your drive icr i!\- yourself." It was by the merest accident tliat he happened notice his wife's face. When he saw the look pain and disappointment that passed over it, did not (piite know what he had done to pro- ne that feeling, but he altered his determina- uii ill a second. " By-the-way," said he, " I might as well go up Lon(k)n to-morrow. Yes, that wH' be better, will telegraph to them to dine wi' ne at tlie 111), and to-day I can give up to yo. .r first-rate tie arrangement. Come, Von Rosen, you have t liiiished already V" " I do not wish to waste time," said that invet- ate idler. "The daylight is very short now, ou have finished too ?" .\iid so they set out. Lady Sylvia having proni- wl to go over to Mrs. Von Rosen during the day, id remain until the evening. As they drove off the dog-cart, Balfour seemed rather preoccu- led. When he remarked, "Things have come a bonny cripus !" what was his companion to E AND PICCADILLY. 08 join IS to drive over with two ladies auld call at nine, inda in his pock, but nevertheless ihould be so late brightening, as ou are ready to rdon very much, iwake when he d of him to send four, as he me letters that were beg your pardon jght I would put ling down. Lad; ome, what do you ithusV" »f the various en- isent air. There the German ex- wice allowed his 1 a certain game he. " Yes, per- kfast was at six, (lishness to waste I will have some time why do you ilfour, " ray wife liday down here, hether it is an; he was speaking, s, and he paused lents. him dlf and part- be pretty certain rliament, or they my han(ls. Per- sure to be kick- mtered the room, the German lieu- ;racious way — for and thanked him had taken about laugh. " No, no. Lefevre's, and I you will iind him d, fine fellow— if b our house, Ladj see, when we be- no selfishness in his friends have I bis keepers thej e says if you willl ir all the day, we make of that absurd phrase? Von Rosen did not know the story of the small boy iu northern parts who was found bitterly sobbing, and dig. ging his knuckles into his eyes; and who, on be- ing asked what Was the matter, replied, in lan- guage which has to be .softened for southern ears, " Things have come to a bonny cripus ; I only called my father an old fool, and he went and kicked me behind." It was the introductory phrase of this insulted boy that Calfonr used. "Things have come to a bonny cripus," saiil he. They drove along the crisp and crackling road. The hoar-frost on the liedges was beginning to melt; the sUnlight had draped the bare twigs in a million of rainbow jewels ; the copper-colored sun slio"'j over the black woods and the dank green iields. "Women are strange creatures," said Balfour again ; ir.id this was a more intelligible remark. " V»'liy do you say that y" asked the simple lieu- tenant, who had noticed nothing at ureakfast be- yond the coffee and the game |iie. " I do believe," said Balfour, w ith a smile which was not altogether a glad one, "that my wile is beginning positively to hate every body and everv tiling connected with Pa-liamont and [loliiits; and that is a lively look out for me. You know I can't go on staying down here. And yet I shouldn't wonder if, wlicn Parliament meets, she rehised to go up to London.'' " Xo, no, no," said the lieutenant; "there you are very wrong. It is not reasoiiuble — not at all reasonable. Slic may like the coiintiy heller; but it is no; reasoiiiihle. That is what 1 tell my wife now. She declares she will not go In liv,- in America for a year, and leave her cliildrc-ii ; and I say to her, 'You will think again about that. It is a great tioiible that you will leave your chil- dren ; it will be a great sorrow for a lime; but what will you think of yourself after, if v<,u do not do what is right for them '? When tliey grow up, when tlity want money, what will ymi ililnk if you have thrust away all that properly — and only for a single year's al)sence?' " "And has your wife proved reasonable'? has she consented to go y" asked Balfour. Von Rosen shrugged his shoulders. " No — not yet. But I will not argue with Lor. I will leave her to think. Oh, you do not know what a woman will do, if she thinks it is for the good of her ch'ldren. At present it is all 'Oh, never, never! Leave my darling little girl, so that she won't know me when I come back y Not for all the money in America!' Well, that is natural too, though it is foolishness. Yon (.oiild not like to have your wife with too !im;,1 i liciit. And I say to her, 'Yes, I will not ask you. We are not so very poor that you must suli'er great pain. If 3'ou will give up the Ameiicau pro|)er- ty, give it up, and no more to be said.' But I know. She is reasoning with lierself now. She will go." " Dc you think she wi.l?" said B.ilfour, thought- fully. "Do you think she will give up so mucli of her own feeling if she thinks it right ?" "Know?" said the tall young German, with one of his hearty laughs. " Yes, I know that very well. Oh, there is no one so sensible as my wife — not any one tfiat I know any where — u' you can show her what is right. But if you ask rac what I think of her uncle, that will cause so much trouble all for his nonsense, then I think ^' 60 GREEN PASTURE^; AND PICCAOILLY. lie waH a most wrctdiod ft-llow — a most wietclietJ and |)iiiul)li' IVlldw," Ili'fo own. 'red an iinintcHi^iliU' f;i'o\vl, wlioilier ill (■oi'iiiiiii <>!' Kii^lisli |iliri.siM)li(^'y lii.-i cuiiipanioii could not say ; liia doiilit'c.-s t||L' niiittci'i'd words wt'ie not polite. AiiotI'L'i' man would lu'oliubly liiive ^ivi'li additional i'oivo to tliis expression of fi'idiii'4 l>y twiti'liinj; at tiio ivins; but Von Koscn ni'vi'i' vttntod his iii)ii' on a liorst'. Tiicy had a capital day's spui't, althuu;^li lial- fonr, who was cxidcntly tliinkin^ of any tirm<; in till' world ratliiT than pheasants, ral)bits, and haivs, shot very l);idly indeed. Their iuneheon was l)i'ou>,dit to them at a farm-house, tlie mis- tress of the farm fjivini; tiiein the use of her sa- cred parlor, in whii'li all tlio curiosities of orna- ment and natural history contributed by three geiieralioiis were relii^iously stoied. They <;ot back to Von Rosen's house about six ; just in timi- for a enp of tea and u chat before dressing for an early country dinnei'. Surely, one or two id' us who were sittin;; round the lalile that evening; must have tliou;iht — surely these two young people ought to have been hap- py enough, if outward circnmstanees have any thing to do with content (d' mind. There wa.s he, in the prime of youthful hiaiiliood, wiili strength written in every outline of the lioiiy frame and in every lineament of the tirm, resolute, and sullieient- ly lianilsome head, rich beyond the possibilities of care, and having before him all the liopefulness iiiid stimulus of a distinguished public career; she, viuug, liigli-born, and beauiiful, with those porious and shy eyes that went straight to the lieart of the person she adilressed and secured lier friends every where, also beyond the reach of sordid cares, and most evi lently regarded by lie.' liu. baixl with all alfection and aduiiration. ^Vll;U trouble, otiier than mere imaginary non- sense, could enter into these linked lives? Well, tliere was pn^sent at this dinner tliat Cassaiidia of mar; led life who was ineiitioiied in the tirst chapter of this highly moral and instructive tale, and slie would liave answered these (piestioiis quickly enough. She would have assumed — lor Bhe knew nothing positive about the matter — tliat these two were now beginning to cncountei' the bitter disillusionizing experience of post-nup- tial life. The liusbund was beginning to recog- nize the fact that his wife was not quite the glo- rious creature he had imngined lier to be; ho was looking back with a wistful regret to the perfectly false ideal of her he had formed before marriage; while she, having dreamed that slie was marrying a lover, and liaving woke up to find she had only married a husl)and, was sutTer- ing untold and secret misery because she found her husband's heart transferred from her real Bclf to that old ideal picture of herself which lie had drawn in the dream-like past. This was what she would have said. This was wliat she was always preaching to us. And we generally found it best in our neighborhood to give her Most Gracious Majesty her own way ; so that this tlieory, as regarded the conjugal relations of near- ly every body we knew, was supposed to be strict- ly accurate. At least nobody had the temerity to question it. "Lady Sylvia," said this very person, "why don't yoii ever jjo up to London ? Mr. Balfour mui't ibink he is a bachelor again when he is all by himself in Piccadilly." " I don't like Fiondon much," said Lady Sylvii witli great composure. " Resides, my liiisbun chiefly there on business matters, and 1 siioiil only be in the way." " Rut you take a great interest in polities," ol served this inoiiitresH, who (loubtless cims'dera that she was udiiiiiiistering some wholesome cipline. " .My wife may take some interest in politics,' saiil llulfour, " but she has no great love for puli tieians. 1 confess they are not picturesque or teresting persons, as a rule. I am afraid the worlilly wisdom, their callousness, is a tride shock ing." '' Well, at all events," said our Most rirncioii Lady— for she was determined to put in a litlli bit of remonstiaiiee, though she would gravr have rebuked any body else for daring to do so- " you have not iiiiich political work to distriic your attention at present, I'arliament not sittinj and all that exeilemeiit about a dissolution liavi passed away." "My dear Mrs. ," said lie, with n lnu;i "now is the worst linu! of all; for a good mii of us don't know whether we sliall lie in tlie iiis Parliament, and we are trying what we can do make our calling and election sure. It is a di: agreeable business, Icit necessary To-morrow for example, 1 am going to town to see two gtii tlemeii about a bill they pi'o]iose I should intr duce; lint 1 shall have io ask them first what the betting itl/out my being able to get into I'ui liament at all. My present constituents hiiv proved very ungrateful, after the unfailing atiiii tioii and courtesy 1 have lavished upon tlicin." Here the (ieimaii ex-soldier burst into a grw roar of laughter, as if there was any thing aniii: iiig ill a young man's throwing contninely on number of peisons who had done him the hoiii of I'etuniing him to the llousi; of C'oinmons. Rut, after all, it was not our business at lli little dinner party to speculate on the liidilo griefs that might neeouipany the outward geo fortune of these two young people. We more palpable trouble near at hand, as was n vealed by an odd little aecitleiit that eveniii; Our hostess had u great atfection for two boistci ous young lads, who were the tions of the aiigi; little woman just referred to, and she had invi them to come into the dining-room after Surely n inollier ought to teach these brats not make remarks on what does not concern them Now, as we were talking in an aimless fashi^ about the Ashantee war, the recent elections, an what not, a sudden sound outside stilled us silence. It was the children of the church who had come up to sing us a Christmas card and the sound of their voices outside in the sli night recalled many a vivid recollection, awoke some strange fancies about the year. What were most of us thinking of then This young ass of a boy all at once says, " Auntie Bell, where will you be next Christmas And do they sing Clii istnias carols far away i America V" And Auntie Rell, being taken ratln aback, said she did not know, and smiled ; but smile was not a glad one, for we knew that su<~ tears had started to the soft and kindly eyes, were not quite so happy as we went home night. And when some one remarked to mother of those boyn — But there, it is no use monstrating with women. dis iiv in ii« t)()d. On the tnoi lalfour woulc »vor with w ; out. It w lint he shoiil tvf Christinai OHIO trumpc ^lit have I iirlit have r is life must avo recalled crest in publ single day'f rert by a p as, after all, 0. He had ictory over hi How her to aving been w laiiily chosen c would niak le. And so, I by, he sa "Ry-the-wa; y the Hall at lat trouble — ■perhaps ho Well, she di "And I shi orrow forenc But as he d ruction of \\ I amiably di lioin he cor longly — to I Ip from Lai iiir said to h If and his w s opinion of ft'w thousaiK him ; it wa: ifc should n money coul When he re r and Mrs. I Id return < an at He looke s son-in-law companied I "The fact the point, " because si e about busi nslf vou ah , I don't I who fere ; but n to vou — " ;'Ah! theg illowby, witi ughter had pression of or instinct drove ovei my do a Icecii, a has no m< ^d at this itc )iili dosser lokiiig i ml did an comin pecially 01 dde iJ- V tb nized tl luring toilo> work to distriu' iiiciit Dot sittiiii; ifi^olutioii liiivi ic, witli a liui;j GKEEN PASTURES AND PICCAOILLY. •» CHAPTER XXni. A CONFICSStON. atd Lady Sylvii *, my huHlniiid I rs, mid 1 slioul . , . , . , . , , On the morninR of liw departure for London, i in nolitifB"ub lnlf'^U'' would take no notice of the marked dia- tless consMltici »vor with which Lady Sylvia regarded his set- ! wliolciiunic (lis ing out. It was hard on the poor cliild, no doubt, hut he Bhould leave her in the midst of these ireHt in politics' cw Christmas holidays, and all for the sake of cut love for pdii "'"O trumpery Parliamentary business. lie icturesnne or in 'in'it have remonstrated with her, it is true ; aiu afraid tliiii ii!-''>t have reminded her that she knew what is a tride shock i'' '''<^ must be when she married him; might ave recalled her own professions of extiunio in- ir Most rmieiou ■res't in public affairs; might have asked her if to nut in a lilil sinf?'" day's absence — which, ho had tried to e woidd gravil ff't l>y ^ proposal which she had rejected — as, after all, such a desperate business. Hut He had no wish to gain an argumentative ictoryover his beautiful young ;i'ife. He would lluw her to eherit'h that con.solatory sense of aving been wronged. Nay, more ; since she had iiiuly chosen to live in a world apart from his. for a good man c would make her life there as happy as jwssi lall be in the iiix li'' •'^'"1 >'"i '*** '"-' Ifwsed her in bidding her hat we can do K niHlby, ho said, ure. It is a di; ,ry. To-morrow II to see two gcii ^e I sliould inti' hem first what i ; to get into I'ui 'oustitucnts liar e unfailing attiu hI upon them," " I{y-the-way, Sylvia, I might as well go round vtlie Hall and see your father. If he is in all lat trouble — this is Christmas-time, you know -perhaps he will let me help him." Well, she did look a little gratefid. "And I shall be down as soon as I can to- orrow forenoon," he added. but as he drove away from Tln^ Lilacs in the ruction of Willowby Hall, he did not al all feel iiist in'.o a grw ' amiably disposed toward his wife's father, any thin" anui! li"'" he conjectured — and conjectured quite contunidv on longly — to have been secretly soliciting tliis (• him the hoiu ;lp fi'om Lady Sylvia. But at all events, Hal- ur said to himself, the relations between him- If and his wife were of more impoicance than s opinion of Lord Willowby. The s.critice of ft'w thousand poiuids was not of mucn concern him ; it was of great concern to him that his lie should not remain unhappy if this matter money coidd restore her usual cheerfulness. When he reached the Hall, he found that Ma- r and Mrs. Blytlie had left the day before, but .d she had invite said return 'ir Christmas. Lord Willowby was Dom after dessei loking an after-breakfast cigarette in the libra- He looked surprised when Balfour entered ; s son-in-law \}\ 1 not often paid him a visit un- n aimless fashio coinpanied bj ..ady Sylvia. jf Commons. business at tlii e on the hiddt llie outward g(io leople. We lia hand, as was n .■nt that eveniiij n for two boistci oiis of the augii these brats not I ut concern the .•ent elections, an ide stilled us inl ' the church clioi t because she imagines you are in some trou- , Christmas carol jutside in the sti recollection, an ' . bout the coniin pecially when I have not been solicited to in- rfere ; but really, you know, if I can be of serv. blinking of then t once says, "01 (toyou— " next Christmas sarols far away (ciiig taken ratli( id smiled ; but tb I kindly eyes. V The fact is," tid Balfour, coming straight the point, " Sylvia is rather distressed at pros c about business matters. Slie thinks I ought aslf you about it, and see if I can help you. ell, I don't like interfering in any one's affairs. " Ah ! the good girl — the dear girl !" said Lord iliowby, with that effusiveness of tone that his ugiiter had learned to love as the only true pression of affection. " I can see it all. Her knew that audde ider instinct told her who that man was whom tt drove over the day before yesterday ; she rec- i went home tb tiiised my despair, my shame, at being so beset remarked to tl & leech, a blood-sucker, a miserable wretch ere it is no use t 'o has no more sense of honor — " And at this point Lord Willowby thought fit to get into a hot and indignant rage, which in no measure impo.sed on his son-in-law. Balfour waited patiently until the outburst was over. Perhaps he may have been employing his leisure considering liow a man could be besui by a leech ; but inadvertently he looked out of window at his horses, and then he thought of his train. " And indeed, Balfour," said his lordship, al- tering his tone, and appealing in a personal and plaintive way to his son-in-law, " how couhl I speak to you about these matters V All your life you have been too well off to know any thing about the shifts that other men have sotnetimes to adopt." " My dear Lord Willowby," said Balfour, with a smile, " I am afraid it is those very shifts that have led you into your present troubles." "If you only knew — if you only knew," said the other, shaking his head. " But there ! as my dear girl is anxious, I may as well make a clean breast of it. Will you sii down V" Balfoiu' sat down. Ho was thinking more of the train than of his father-in-law's atlairs. " Do you know," said Lord Willowby, with something of a |)atlietic air, " that you are about the last man in the world to whom I should like to reveal the cause of my present anxieties. You lire — you will forgive me for saying so — apt to bo linirsh in your judgments ; you do not know what temptations poverty puts before you. But my dear girl must plead for nio." Balfour, who did not at all like this abject tone, merely waited in mute attention. If this revela- tion was to lie protracted, he would have to take a Inter train. "About a year n J a half ago," saiJ his lord- ship, letting his eyes rest vaguely on the arm of Balfour's easy-ehair, " things had gone very badly with me, and I was easily induceil into joining a speculation, or rather a series of speculations, oil the Stock Exchange, which had been projec'-.;d l)y several friends of mine who Inul been wit'.i me in other undertakings, Tiiey were rieli men, and could have borne their previous losses ; I was a poor man, and — and, in short, desperate. More- over, they were all business men, one or two of them merchants whose names are known all over the world ; and I had a fair right to trust to their prudence — had I not V" " Prudence is not of much avail in gambling," said Balfour. " However, how did you succeed V" "Our operations (which they conducted, mind you) were certainly on a largo scale — an enor- mous scale. If they had come out successfully, I should never have touched a company, or a share, or a bond, for tiie rest of my life. But instead of that, every thing went against us ; and wliile one or two of us could have borne the loss, others of us must have been simply ruined. Well, it oc- curred to one or two of tlie.=e pers(uis — I must beg you to believe, Balfour, that the suggestion did not come from nie — that we might induce our broker, by promises of what we should do for him afterward, to assume the responsibility of these purchases and become bankrupt." A sudden look of wonder — merely of wonder, not yet of indignation — leaped to the younger man's face. " My dear fellow," pleaded Lord Willowby, who had been watching for this look, " don't bo too rash in condemning us — in condemning me, at all events. I assure you I at once opposed this plan when it was suggested. But they had a •8 GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. gmat nmny rcaHonH to advance againRt niino. It wiirt iiiiikiii({ nti(> mail liaiikriipt iiiittcud o/ several. Tlii'ii nil u'liii.i would the Iohhuh full? Why, on tlic jiiltlii'i,<, who iti'u the real gaiiiblerH of the Stoi'U i'ixc'haiiKc, and who can easily HuiTer a few \WM'H when pitted aKiiiiiHt their eiiornions gains." " Kilt how wiiH it poHHilde V" exulainied iiulfuur, who liiid not yet recovered from hin amazement. •'Kiii'cly the joIiIutk could have appealed to the inan'H IiooIi it was propoi of his lieing fli'ction. Sti this talk wit iilistrueted, a iisst'iited to a sary todispiil iiu'iiibi'r of 1 liiiiiself was to tlie couiitr I am going t shall be thro' liiivs into tlu liiother. An singular felie ofthcmost pi CH TlIKRE is T ptiictcst virt lint, curiousi; hiinself conf liiainls — that i/iiiil Willow fnl Cransacti( iiliiiuld dine i nl' doubtful II lii'dtlicr, he 1 iiig to the la That was a i iiig a few fi a wiiole evil tile company listed. Bill Kitlier CO tli'.iuirlit to ( scniunlons a ly lia.'sli aiK tliiisc who wc iionncL'd aiiti nam docs i nimlily his CI Thcii,"tlieve ridsiiic, whic lie had lent lie ddi'iid li K'lcil Lord W I'V, to go into iiiit do tliat. niock liiimili lowby was ( this precioui? entangled in cd or condoii at all, it was ; what ho saH rie ?" said Lord hiive no inon- lay before vcs. itH. liut what obtain inonc; Id come out. yourself of all od senso. Rut this younp; man n, limited syin. It was till vwj >e lay in a nut- a !«iMitimeiit of is compaiii(>ii4. tills wretelii'J le stoop (II lie- lie fair ri'puia. lone their iii'st but ho hiiitd )ur, apparently lay bf V(iy nu- ll may lead to. do, if he is im ■to briiii^ iiii ers inl'(»nnaliiiii an UL'tion, aiitl its, will have to iiid they will isn't itV" ," said this pimr iihl make soiu rould affect tlie )ken son-iii-hiiv Isliip, in desjiiT- eiieral voice of iver employ iiiiy liuients in tiitir nspii'ed to coiU' lU^li laii^iia^e! lat the threat h I," said Balfiiiir, ! much move .?e- imagined. 01 clear yourself, n action against ng out, whoever 1 to take tlii|| •islng, " will you er the affair?" like," said I.on ited much from of his. trap again, and ig that had Imp- J had disturbeJ this story. He less, indefinable he had nevet ict calculated to GIIEEX PASTURES AND rit'C.'.l 00 liriim dishonor on the family name. And oddly ('nullah, in this cmcrf^eiiey, his greatest appivlieii- ^i()ll was that he iiiiglit not be able to eoiieeal the iilinost inevitable public scandal from Lady Syl- via, She had always loved her father. She hail liclieved in his reduiiduiil expiessions of ailVe- tliiii. In the event of this great scandal eoiniiig t(i lier ears, would she not indigiiiuitly repudiate it, and challenge her liusbund to re|)udiate it also y Tiiat evening, by appointment, Balfour's two fi'ii'iids dined with liiiii at his eluli; and they had a iiiDie or less discursive chat over the bill which it was proposed he should inlroiluce in the case of his being reseated at the following general election. Strangely eiioiiLrli, he ilid not enter into this talk wii,h any particular /.est. He seemed abstracted, absoibeil; several times he vaguely assented to an opinion which he found it neees- sii V to dispute directly afterward. For what the iiienibcr of Hallinasi'roon was really saying to liiniself was this: "To-morrow I go down again tti tlie country. My wife will want to know what I am going to do about her father's affairs. I shall be thrown a good deal (lining the next few (lavs into the society of Lord Willowby and his linither. And on Ciiristmas-day I shall have the singular felicity of dining in the company of two of the most promising scoundrels in this country." CHAPTER XXIV. CHRISTMAS SKNTIMENT. TiiKRE is no saying what a man, even of the ."trictest virtue, will do for the sake of his wife. Hut, curiously enough, when Hugh Balfour found himself confronted by these two disagreeable de- mands — that he should lend or give a sum to iiiivd Willowby in order that a very disgrace- ful iransaetion should be hushed up, and that he should dine on Cliristnias evening with that peer of doubtful morals and his still iiim'e disreputalile liiDtlier, he found far more dilliciilty in assent- ing to the latter than to the foriiicr proposition. That was a matter of a few moments — the writ- ing a few figures on a clicck ; this was spending a whole evening, and Christmas evening too, in the company of people whom lie despi.sed iiini ile- tcsteil. IJui w hat will not a man do for his v, ifc ? Killier eoiicossion was a siilliciently lilitor (Iraiirht to driiil:. He had iilvays b xn ki'dily Fcnipnloiis about money matters, and iii)pati>'nt- ly liu'.sh and e«nteiii|itiioiis iu his jiKlgiiieiit o!' those who were otlieiwise. He had iornicd a (iio- iioinieod antipathy ULrainst Lo'.'d ^Villowl)y, and a nian does not care to ^traiM his conscience or luiiilify his creed for a ])ei'Soii whom he disliloes. Then, thevc was the possibility of a iiublic dis- I'losme, which would probalily reveal the fact that he had lent Lonl Willowby this money. Could le (lefi'ud himself l)y saying that he liad coun- seled Lord Willowby, bel'oie leiuling him the mon- ey, to go into court and clear himself V He would Hot do lliar. When he gave that advice, with niock Immility, he knew perfectly that Loid Wil- lowby was only prcvaiieating. He knew that this precious father-in-law of his was hopelessly entangled in a fraud which he had cither concoct- ed or condoned. If this money were to be lent at all, it was franl. to be lent in order that the man who ilncaii'iieil (o inform slioii!! In- lioiight over to hold lii.^ pi a<'>'. lint llieii wiiat is it that u young and dcvoird liusliund will nut do for hid wife? Moreover, the nu)re distressing of the two de- mands had til be met first. Lord Willowliy t(dd him that his partners in that scheme of cheating the jobbers liad resolved to meet on the Hrst of the new year to consider what was to be done; so that in the mean lime Balfour could allow his conseieiice to rest, so far as the money was con- cerned. But in the mean time came Christmas; and he told his wife that he had no objection to joining that family party at the Hall. When he said that lie had no objection, he meant that he had about twenty dozen, which he would over- rule for her sake. And indeed Lady Sylvia's de- light at his consent was beautiful to see. She spent day after day in decorating Willowby Hall with evergreens; she did not altogether neglect The Lilacs, l)Ut then, you see, there was to be no ('hristmas party there. She sang at her work ; she was as busy as she could be ; she even wish- ed — in the fullness of her heart — that her cousin Honoria were already arrived to help her. And Balfour? Did he assist in that pretty and idyllic pastime? (dldly enough, he seemed to take a greater inten-st than ever in the Von Rosens and some neighbors of theirs. He was constantly over among us; and that indefatigable and bu,lll)llUI lie rctMiicil at nine y It Liiiiv Svlvia wimlil ;;(> (Hi to tiic Mall wiili licr |>a|iu, lit', liall'oiii', woiilil iviuni to Tiii' l.ilurs, ;;i't liiirt liil of lii>iiu'SH ovi'c, anil join tlic ^ax laiiiily puitv iii I'.c ..'vi'niiij;. I.ady Sylviii nci'ini'tl rather tlisap- ;iointeil that tills eler^yinan slioiiid liave tleftriveil liur hiisliaiid of tliu |ilensiire of t<|)eii(lin}{ the ^ lioie liay in tlie soeieiy of her relatives ; liiit she eoMsented to thi^ arian^enient, and lialfutir, willi iniieh eonteni, spent Ciiristnias-day by hiin>elf. And then, in the hush uf the still and saered exeninf;, this huppy family parly met round the Ciu'lslnias board. It was a pleasant picture — for the bare dinin^-ruoin looked mo lun};er bare, when it was laden with srailet berries and ^reen leaves, uikI Lord Willowby coulil not protest against a waste of candles ou such a id^ht. Then, with his beautiful youii^ wife presidiiij{ at the head of the table — herself the pei feet type of gentle Kn^llsh noiiiiinliood — ami llonoria Ul}llie's merry black eyes doiii;^ their vei'y best to faseinale and enter- tain liini, why slioild this uujjrateful Scotch boor have resolved to play iliu part of Apennintnsy Of eoui'se he was ouf.vardly very civii — nay, I'ornntl- ly courteous; bu; theie was un air of isolation iibout hiui, as if he were sitliuf; there by an ex- ercise of con.-'iaihi. IK; rarely took wine any win . ' when he did, he alm(i>t never noticed what lie drauii : wiiy was it, llierelore, that Ik? now tasted e\ery thii:;_% and put the fflass dov, n as if he were calculating^ whither sililden death niif^lit not ensue':' And when Major Hiythe, aft- er talkiiij! very loudly for some time, mentioned the word " Tiehborne," why should this man ejac- ulate — apparently to himself — "<) ^ood Lord!" in a tone that somehow or other produced u dead silence. " I'erlmpa it is no matter of enneern to you," said M.ijor lilythe, with as iniieli ferocity as he dared to assume toward a man w ho ini^lit possi- bly lend him money, "that an inauccnt puiiiuii Bhould be so biutiilly treated?" "Not much," said Halfotu", humbly. " I dare say you have not followed the case very closely, Hnlfour," said his lordship, interven- inj; to ))revent a di>pute. "No, 1 have not," he said. "In fact, I would much rather walk the other v.ay. But then," ho added, to Miss lloe.oria, who was seated by him, "your papa must ni>t imagine that 1 have not an opinion as to who the (JIannant really is." "No I" exclaiuied llonoria, with her splendid eves full of tlieatrieul interest. "Who i.s he, then ?" " I discovered the secret from the very begin- ning. The old i)ro|)hecies have been fulKlled. The ravens have Hown away. Frederick Uarbu- rossa has come back to the world at last." " Frederick liarliarossa y" said Miss llonoria, doubtfully. " Yes," continued her instructor, seriously. " His other name was O'Donovun. He was a Fenian leader." " Susan," called out her brat of a brother, " he's only making a fool of you ;" but at any rate ♦he Borry jest managed to stave off for a time the la- evitable tight about the fat person from the colo- uies. It was a happy family gathering. Balfour was BO pleased to see a number of relatives enjoying themselves top-ther in lliio manner tImt he wmil not lor the world have the parly split itself in;, two after diimer. Uetnaiii to drink .Madeira \\lii] the lailies were nolii;^ to sing their pious ('liii>i mas hymns in the other room? Never! Miijur lilylli(> sail! by gad he wasn't going into iIk dniwing-room just yet; and poor Lord Willowli looked helplessly at both, not knowing whieli t yield to. Natuially, his duties us host prevailcil He sat down with his brother, ami offered liiii some Madeira, which, to teii the truth, was vcr; good indeed, for Lord Willowby was (die of tlii men who think they can condone the poisoiilin of their guests during dinner by giving them decent glass of wine afterward. iJalfour wriii into the drawing-ro(mi and sat d'j«n by his wife, llonoria having at her request goiut to the piaiiu. "Why don't you stay in the diningrooin, Hugh V" said she. "Ah," said lie, with a sigh, "Christmas evrn. ings are far too short for the joy they eoutaiii 1 did not wish the happiness of this family giitl: ering to be too much llavmed with Tiehboriie, What, is your cousin going to sing now — oil, liow sweet It Is to 8eo bivtiireii dwell In eiiiiill) t or some such thing y" She was hurt and olTended. He had no ri to scoff at her relaiive.'i ; bi'caiise if there was iini discordant element in that gathering, it was hiiii' self. They were civil enoiigii to him. They wei not (|uarieling among tlieiiiselves. If there wat any interference with the thoughts and feeliiii;: appropriate to Christmas, he was the evil spl who was disturbing the emotions of tliose pioiu souls. Indeed, she did not know what demon had got possession of him. He went over to Mrs. Hlytlio, a woman whom slie knew he heartily dislike and sat down by that majestic three-decker, aiiJ paid her great and respectful attention, ili praised Ilonoria's playing. He asked to wluii college tlicy meant to send Johnny when tliii promising youth left school. He was glud to Sf the Major looking so well and hearty: did lie take his morning ride in the Park yet? Mi lilythe, wlio was a dull woman, nevertheles.-i I her suspicions; but how could she fail to civil to a gentleman who was complaisance pe soniliiid? Ills spirits grew brighter and brighter; he w; quite friendly witli Lord Willowby and his youngii brother when they came in from the dining-room. Lady Sylvia deeply resented this courtesy, becaii? she thought it arose from a sarcastic apjireciatiun of the incongruity of liis iiresence there ; wlierciu it was merely the result of a consciousness that the hour of his release was at hand. He had done his duty; he had sacriticed his own likings foi the sake of his wife ; lie had got through this din- tasteful dinner; and now lie was going back tos snug room at The Lilacs, to a warm tire, an easy chair, a pi|ie, and a friendly chat. But who can describe tlie astonishment of these simple folks when a servant came in to say that Mr. Balfour's carriage was at the door y Only ten o'clock — and this Christmas night ! " Surely there is some mistake, Hugh ?" said liu young wife, looking at iiiin witli great surprise. " You don't wisli to go home now y" "Oh yes, child," said he, gravely. "I don'l or timt he wmilj H|)lit itHclr in;,) l< Mii(K'ini wli. 'ir pioiiH Cliiisi, N'i'vit! Miiji piiiiH into ill, Lord Williiwlii lowing wliiili \: host iircviiilcj iiiul ofTerod liim tnidi, wan V wits (IIIU of tli« tlio |)oiHoniii|| y niviiin tlit'iii » liall'oiir wi'iii L»W II \)\ ll'lH Wifo, iiu; to tliu |iiiinu. lu (liiiiiig-ruoin, ("liristnmH ovon. >v tlifv foiitaiii, his I'liniily pull with Ticlihoriie, in now — 8(>0 lilt) I He hiul no ri;;lii it' there was nut rin^, it was him' !iilii. Thcywi'ii; s. If then,' waj ills and ftH'liiii.'i s tiic evil s|iini id uf those iiidiM it demon luid f^oi !r to Mis, Hlvllif, hi'urtily dishliiii, lliree-dfcker, uiiJ uttcntion. lie i usiied to wliai hnny when tliat u wuH ^lud to see huartv : did I'arii yet? Mi> iii'vertlii'les.s ImJ I siie fail to In jinplaisuiic'c poi luightcr; hewiii yundhi8}'oiiii;;ur tlie diniii^-i'oum jotirtesy, beuaiiiie stie apin-oeiutiun J there ; wlieioiu iiiseiuiisiio.ss tliat id. He hud (lone own liliiii^H through tliis dis- I going buel< toi irm tire, un eus}' lishincnt of those lie in to say tliat door y Only ten It! Hugh?" said iiii 1 greut surprise, vy" ively. "I don't (iKKKN PASTl RKS AND I'UrADILI.Y. n Runt tn harp yon lci ved to ui-lrc-s him. lie reliion. stinted uilh her gi'lllly— for, imleed, he was nitlier disappointed liiiit hi- li ihesl eiideiivoix to plcjise her hail liorne so little fli.it — but hlie nidy gieW more reserved iu tone. .Vinl lie cuiild iint iiiider. staiitl why she should loituir hei-elf by this eoni. |iulsory eonveisiilion alioiit |ioliiies, rmeign ami domestic '.vheii he saw elearly that her deie-ta- tioii of every tliirg connected with his public life increased day by day, until — merely to save her pain — he could have wished that there was no such place as Knglebury on the map of Knglaiid. He told her he had spoken to her father about these pecuniary troubles, and olTeied to assist him. She said that was very kind, and even kis.s. ed him on the forehead, as sln' happened lo Im passing his chair; but not even that would in- duce her to talk about her father or any thing be- longing to him. And, indecil, he himself eonhl not be very explicit on the point, more especially as every thing now pointed to his having to lend Lord Willowby money, not to hush up a fraud, but '>o defend a criminal prosecution. About the third week in January all Knglaiul was startled by the announcement that there was to be an immediate dissolution of rarliament, and that a general election would shortly IVdhnv, Ital- foiir did not seem so perturbed as might have been expected ; he even appeared to liiid some sense of relief in the sudden news. He at oiieo grew active, bright, eager, and full of a hundred schemes, and the first thing he did was, (d' course, to rush up to London, the centre of all the hurry and disturbance that prevailed. Lady Sylvia nat- urally remained in Surrey ; he never thought for a moment of dragging her into that turmoil. CHAPTER XXV. VICTORV! TnERK was not a moment to lose. All England was in confusion — local ooniinittocs hastily as- sembling. Parliamentary agents down in West- minster wasting their substance on shilling tele- grams, wire-pullers in Pall Mall pitifully begging for money to start hopeless contests in tlie inter- est of the party, eager young men fresh from college cmisiilting their friends as to which im- pregnable seat they should assault witli a de- spairing courage, and comfortable and cldeily members dolefully shaking their heads over the possible consecpienccs of this precipitate step, insomuch that the luncheon claret at their club had no longer any charms for them. Am) then the voluble i)artisnns,theeiithusiasts, the believe;. s in the great liberal heart of Engiand, how liitie did they reck of the awful catiistioplie impeiiding ! The abolition of the income tax would rally wa- vering constituencies. The recent rever.ses at the poll were only the result of a tein|)orary irrita- tion ; another week would give llie govcrnnu-.it an overwhelming majority. Alas! alas! Tliesu confident professions were balm t'> many an anx- ious heart, this or the other luckle.s wight seek- ing all possible means of convincing himself that his constituents could not be so cruel as to ou.-'t him ; but they did not prevent those constituents from arising and slaying their representative, transforming him from a living and moving mem- 72 GREEN PASTURKS AND PICCADILLY. ber of Parliament into a wandering and discon- solate voice. Balfour had to act and think for himself in this crisis ; Mr. Bolitho was far too bu.'m. It will be a very disgraceful tiling if they don't give me a handsome piece of plate when I retire." ".My dear Sir," said Balfour, with saturnine simplicity, " / will take care of that." "And I am not going to spend a penny in a bogus contest, mind that. But that is not your business. Now go away. Don't tell any body you have seen me. I like the look of you. I think you have too many opinions; but as soon as you get into some small office — and the gov- ernment might do worse, I will say — you will get I'ured of that, (iood-day to you." There is a telegraph office at the foot of St. James's Street. Balfour walked right down there, and sent a message to his friend Jewsbury ut Ox- ford : " Cotne down at once to the 'Green Fox,' Eiu fflebiiri/. Home fun (/ohi;ht li've to change his tune, in asking the sitting niendier to obtain the govern* ment advertisements ioi him. It was a fierce fight, id be stu'o ; and Mr. and Mrs. Chorley had sueli faitii in their time-honored representative that they called on tiu'ir fellow- townsmen to raise r> sum to defray .Mr. Harnden'9 expenses. Then, on the night before the elec- tion, the thunder-bolt fell. Mr. Harnden attend- ed a meeting of his frienre, thin was sent as a little token of remembrance ; w- ie he scarcely ever went dow nn Saturday nioi mng without carrying with him t-'-...^- similar bit of frail treasure, glad that he knew of something ihat would interest her. In the mean time he was intensely busy with his Parliamentary work ; for, not having been in oftiw, and liavingno hope of ofKi'e, the tremendous over, throw of his party at the general election had in ! no way damped his eager energy. When the blow fell, it fouiul him quite unprc. ' pared. One afternoon he received a telegram from his wife asking him if he could go down thai ' evening. It was a most unusual sununons; for she was scrupulously earefid not to interfere with his Parliamentary duties; but of eotn-se he im. mediately hastened down to The Lilacs. He was more sm'prised than alarmed. Ht.' went into the drawing-room, and found his wife standing there, alone. The light of the sum. iner evening was somewhat dimmed by the multj. tudc of leaves about the vei mda; but his fii'st gianee told him that she w;i-. deadly pale, and he saw that she was app.acntlv -' ■ oriing herself by the one hand that eaughtth. .e cd'the tahlo " Svlvia," said he, in dismav, " » :iat is the mat. , ter?"' " I am sorry to have troubled you to cnine ()nwn," she said,, in a voice that was strangelv ! calm, "but I could bear this no loi'ger. 1 think j it is better that we two should sepa.ate." He did iu)t (piite understand at first; he only felt a little cold about the heart. The next nin- i ment she would have fallen backward had he mn I caught her; but she ((uiekly recovered h' • If, ' and then gently put his hainis away from her. j "Sylvia," said he again, "what is the matter ' with you V" He s;;i ,!■ 1 at the white face as if it were that of a iiKidv.oman. " 1 mean what I say, Hugh," sheanswcred. "I have thought it over lor monihs back. It is no , hasty wish or lesolve.' "Sylvia, \oii must lie out of your senses," lie exclaimed. "To separate! Why? For what reason ? Is it any tiling that I have done?" He wished to take her hand; she withdrew a ■step. " The sooner this pain is over, the better for both of us," she said ; and again the treii. 'i hand stnight the support of the table. " We ii tieen separated — we are .separated now — except iii name. Oin- married life has beCn a mistake. I do not think it is either your fault or mine ; Imt the punishment is more than I can bear. I can not any longer suffer this — this pretense. Let iia separate. We shall both b > free to live our own livi's, without [>retending to the world to be what we are not — " ■ My darling!" he exclaimed ; but somehow tlie warmth of his protest was chilled by that impas- sive demeanor: it was no outburst of temper that had summoned him down from London. " Syl- via ! why won't you tell me your reasons? What is it you want altered ? 1 have tried in every way tc niiilic your life just as you wisliei' it — " " 1 know yon have," she said ; " 'im have been Uiinlness itself. Hut it is not a thins to be rca- siiiu'd about. If you do n a blaze of crimsou cloth and shiriing gold and crystal. "And this is how they cross the Atlantic!" ex- claimed Queen T , who treasured revengeful feelings against the Channel steamers. But that was nothing to her surprise when we reached our three cabins, which wc fouiul at tlie end of a small corridor. The yellow sunlight — yellowed by tiie haze hanging over the Mersey- was shining in on the brightly painted wood, liio polished brass, the clean little curtains of the berths; and altogether showed that, whatever weather we might liave in cro* il to this f^ratu- iij; enouj^h her- peetator of the eekly assented, crowd on dock of another bell lends and rela- lai'^e ship and ses of the tend- er a merry and ing called out ; equally loud es, which turn- n; freely hurled deftly caught, the crowd that lied to put be- eeren 101 lies go- e last look, the ped a flood of tliese were vis- jrget the dazed rith the silvery ing good-by to aughter ? He did not seem quite to understand what he was doing. One of the officers assisted him by the iirni as ho stepped on to the gangway ; he looked at him in u vague way, and said, "Thank yoii — thank you. (Jood-by," to him. Then there was a middle-aged man with u bit of black cloth round his hat. Hut why should one recall these nmiiieiits of extreme human misery V If it was iiut'cssary that Lady Sylvia should drink this bit- ter draught — it it was necessary that she should Iwve pointed out to her something of what real and di'tinite sorrows and agonies have to be borne ill life — why should these things be put before any one else V The ease of Lady Sylvia, as every woman must perceive, was ((uito exceptional. Is it lor a moment to be admitted that there could lie in England any other woman, or, let us say, any small number of other women, who, being far too fortunately cireumstanced, must needs funstriiet for themselves wholly imaginary giiev- aiu'cs and purely monomania"' d wrongs, to the distress e(nially of themselves and their friends V TIk' present writer, at all events, shrinks from the responsibility of putting forward a;." such iill('s.'iilion. Ile never heard of any such women. Laily Sylvia was Lady Sylvia ; and if she was ex- ci'litionally foolish, she was undergoing exception- al iiunishment. Indeed, she was crying very bitterly, in a stcahliy way, as the great ship cm which we stood began to move slowly and majestically down the river. TIk- small and noisy tender had steamed back to the wharf, its occupants giving us many a farewell cheer so long as we were within ear-shot And now we glideil on through it thick and thundery haze that gave a red and lurid tinge to the coast we were leaving. There Wiis a talk about dinner; but surely \>e were to he allowed time to bid good-by to England? Farewell I farewell ! The words were secretly uttered by many an aching heart. It was far from being a joyful fea.it, that din- ner, though Von Rosen talked a great deal, and was loud in his praises of every thing — of the quick, diligent service and pleasant demeanor of the stewards, of the (piality of the hock, and the profusion of the carte. The vehement young man had been all over the ship, and seemed to know half the people on board already. "Oh, the captain !" said he. " He is a famous fellow — a tine fellow — his name is Thompson. And the purser, too, Evans — he is a capital fel- low ; Imt he is in twenty places at once. Oh, do you know, Lady Sylvia, what the officers call their .servant who waits on them V" Lady Sylvia only looked her intpiiry : the pale, beautiful face was dazed with grief. " Mosquito I — I suppose because he plagues them. And you can have cold baths — salt-wa- ter — every morning. And there will be a eon- cert, in a few evenings, for the Liverpool Sea- man's Home. — Bell, von will sing for the con- cert?" And so the young man rattled on, doing his best to keep the women-folk from thinking of the homes they were leaving behind. But how cool I they help thinking, when we got up on deck after dinner, and stood in the gathering dusk ? England had gone away from us alto- gether. There was nothing around us but the ushing water, leaden -hued, with no trace of phosphoresjcnt tire in it ; and the skies overhead were dismal enough. We staid on deck late that night, talking to each other— about every thing except England. CHAPTER XXVIIL Tllli LAST LOOK. All around us the great unbroken circle of the sea, overhead the jialer color of the morning sky, and this huge lloating palace of 151)0 tons crash- ing its way through the rolling waves of a heavy ground-swell — that was what we found when we stepped out on to the white and sun-lit deck. " What cheer, Madame toliiiiibus ? .\nd how goes the log?" cried the lieutenant, making liiii appearance at the top of the eompaiiionway. Madame Cohimbus had been uj) betimes — in order to make sure of her bath — and was now en- gaged in private eoiiversatiou with Liidy Sylvia. " We are a point west by north of iSen .Nevis," she answered, i)romptly, " but the Irish coast is not yet in sight." Tlie latter half of her statement was true, any- how ; there was not evi'ii the faint cloud of au island visible all around the dark blue h, the tender came out from the shore, and iliscliarged her human and otluu' cargo, and when the order was given to let go the gangway, we were glad encuigh — all ol' us, perhaps, except one ; for w hat iiieaut that slight exclamation, and the inadvertent step foi ward, as this last means of eoMMMUuieation was withdrawn V But there was a fricii.'ly hand on ln'r arm. The child looked on in mute despair as the great vessel began to move through the water. There was a good deal of clieeiing as we now, and finally, set out on our voyage; she did not s< em to hear it. And now we were ,)ut on the Atlantic, the land gradually receding f.im sigiit, the great ship forg- ing ahead at full ■■pC'd ihiough the rnsinng waves, the golden ,";'.>ry of tlie afternoon shining on her tall masts. They were getting out some sail* too ; and as the string of men were liauling up the heavy gaff of the nii/.zen try-sail, one tall fellow, the leader of the choir, was singing so that all could hear, "Oh, it's Union Square as I ctianced for to pass, Yo, heave, ho ! Oh, it's tliere I met a bonniu young lass:" while the idiotic refrain, "Give a man time to roll a man down," Bounded musically enough with its accompani- ment of ii;',pning canvas and rushing waves. And there were rcpc-tpioits got out, too, and the more energetic slif/vol-board ; while those who scorned Buch vain delights were briskly promenading the deck with an eye to dinner. And then, at din- ner, the sudden cry that made every one start up from the table and crowd round the nearest port- hole to look out on that extraordinary sunset — the sea a plain of dark ami rich purple, almost hard in its outline against the sky; the sky a pure, dazzling breadtli of green — a sort of olive green, but so dazzling and clear that it burned itself into the memory, and will forever remain there — with a few lines of still more lambent Rold barred across the wc«t. That flro of color had blinded all eyes. When we returned to our seats we could Hcarccly hoc each other. " What n beautiful night we shall Inivc !" said Lady Sylvia, who was doing her best to be very bravo and cheerful — because, you see, it was our common duty, she considered, to cheer up tlio spirits of the young mother who had left her two children behind her—" and what a pity it is, my dear Mrs. Von Kosen, that you did not bring your guitar with you ! Half of the charm of the vov. age will be lost. And you know it will be niooii. light tonight— you might have sung to us." " I am like Mrs. S 's little girl," said our Bell, " whom they used to bother so before visit, ors. She said, one day, in the most pathellc voice, ' I wish I didn't know no songs: and llu'u I shouldn't have to sing none.' But the guitar has been |>ut away lor a long tithe now. That l)elongc(l to llie days onliglit and singing. What I am thankful for is t lat the clear night will lessen the chances of our running down any unfortunate snnill vessel. Ah ! you don't know, Lady i^ylvia, how often tliat ha()pin;-< — and nobody ever hears of it A huge ship like this would simply cut down one of these smaller vessels to the water's edge and go dean over her. And of course the greatest danger of our doing so is near land. Think of the poor men, after being months at sea, perhaps, aihl within a day or set of meeting their wives and families again, finding this huge monster crash- ing dowu'on them! I trcmblu when I hear peo- ple speak (d' the vessels anchored on the New- foundland Banks, and the fogs there, and the great steamers going on through the night. A collision is nothing to us — I suppose we should scarcely feel any shock at all — but it is certain death ',o the unhappy wretches who are out there at the tishing. Well, it is part of the risk of their calling. Tliey have to support their families some- how; and I suppose tlieir wives know each time they leave the land that they may never be heard of again. I wonder whether these poor men ever think that they are hardly used in life. No doubt they would |)refer to belong to a fine club ; and their wives would like to drive about in carriages. But I sui)posc they have their compensations. The home-coming must be pleasant enough." " But do wo go riglit on through a fog, all tlie samef" asked our Bell, in some alarm. " At a reduced speed, certainly ; and people .Viid won't iircst V " It was quit »v voice tha nous, melan bout the boi er lai.», the < 'e." VV!\y s id of evii 01 imtic 1 lat fire of color returned to our )ther, mil liiivc !" Hdid best to bo very see, it was our » cheer up tlio uid left her two a pity it is, my not bring your ivm of the voy. it will be moon, iiig to us." fjirl," said our so before visit- most piltlU'lif lings : and tlu'ii lidt the guitar me now. Tlint Do you kiiow i Imve gone 'd of yo\i, Boll," ivii.s like u nini;- wiini tliv! noitli. lere you inv {.m ids use, I to 1)0 to the Hordei's; you lire doiilii- ■ body know if d, or any JV/.<- lie north pole? you like to give (' of the guitiiv. iviil take up tlio X' i-hiulowy e(ir- Above — below GREEN TASTUUEK AND PICCAUILLY. 81 our grave nion- tliiidi about but iim thankful for the ehanees of te small vessel. how often tliiit of it A huj,v wn one of these ;e ttud go eleaii atest danger of nk of the poor , perhaps, aiiil heir wives ntiJ monster crash- hen 1 hear peo- d on the New- there, and the the night. A, pose we shoulil lit it is certain 10 are out there the risk of their r families sonic- know each time never be liearJ ! poor men ever life. No doubt fine club; and lut in carriages, compensations, nt enough." ;h a fog, all tlK farm, ly; and people luy that the booming of the foghorn at night la one of the most horrid sounds in the world." You never thought of that danger, Lady Syl- via," said Bell, with a smile, " when your — when Mi: Balfour and you used to speak (>i' going round ilie world in a steam-yaeht. By-tiie-way, I sup- piisc that steani-yaeht that came out with us has :i)t back to yueenstown by this time." yueen T glanced quickly and nervously at hrr. " I hope so," said Lady Sylvia. " It was very friendly of the people to escort us n bit on our »iiy. I suppose they knew some one on ftoard. I'liit I did not see any one waving a good-by to llioiii when they left." " Oh," said (jiieen T , carelessly, " I have no Joiibt they only eaine out for a run." When we went on deck we found the last glow if the twilight fadinir out of the iiorthweslern kits. We were all alone on the iiioviii;.; world )f waters, the liugi^ iiu'tallie-luicd waves break- over in iiiiisseH of white foiiiii that wer(! elear- y visible in the semi-darkness. Ihit by this time w had grown so aeeiistomed to tlu; monotoMdiis miiiil of the rushing wavi'S that it wns iilniosD II' eiiiiivalent of silence ; so that any other sound -tlie striking of the bells every half hour in the ii.ri'ing-1'oom, for exiiiiiple, and the repetition by n' inaii at the look-out — was startlingly clear ml distiiut. We ;;(it our chairs brought togeili- 1, iiiid the shawls sjuciid out, and formed a little iiiiip by ouisclves, whose falkiiig, if we were so iK'liiied, eoiild not well be overheard. IJiiit there IS not miieli talking, soiiieliow. Peiliiiiis that luiiiotonous rushing of the water had a drowsv Ifict. I'eiliaps we were trying to find out the laiiics of the |iale, elear ;;tais overhead, f;ir lie- lul the tall masts that kept swaying this way 111 that as the vessel rose and fell on the long liues. Or were we wiuidering whether the man I tlie look-out, whose form was duskily visible liiist the clear, dark sky, coiilii make out some mull and ilistaiit speek — some faint gliiniiier of a ifllit, perhaps — to tell us that wo were no' ipiite )iio in this awful world of waters':' Then the stars grew paler; for a new glory bc- iiii to fill the lamlient skies, and the white deck ;:iii to show blaek shadows that uioved on the iivery surface as the ship rose to the .vaves. "iJo you remember that inoon!ig!it night at ii'iisniere ?" says Queen T to her friend. .Viid won't you sing us ' The Flowers of the orest V " It was quite another song that she sang — in a )\v voice that mingled curiously with the inonot- nous, melancholy rush of the waves. It was bout the bonnie young Flora who " sat sighing er lai.a, the dew on her plaid an' the tear in her W'ly should she have picked out this bal- d of evii oiueu for our very first night on the ihuiticy SliK looked at a boat wi' tlie breezes that swung Away on the wave like n l)ir(l u' tlie main ; An' aye us It lessened slie si'iht'd an' she sung, 'Farewell to the liid 1 ahull ne'er sue at;ain.'" -rliaps her conscience smote her. Perhaps she wnght it was hardly fair to suggest ti. this poor auiig thing who was thrown on our care that the nel parting she had just undergone wi;s a final lie. At all events, as she began to sing this liior song, it seemed to some of us that she was 'viiig a clear leap across a long interval of time, F and imagining herself aomehow as already return* iiig to English shores. For she sang — " Uect, ye wild storms, In the caves of your slumbers I How your drrnd howling a hiver ularius! Waiiken, yo breezes, row Koiitly, ye IiIIIowm, And witft my dear laddie unco iiiuir to niy iirmgl Bat oh ! it' he's lalthless, uud minds na his .s'lninle, Flow still between us, thou wide roarlii;,' inaiiit May I never sen it, iimy I never trow II, llut, dyiiifc', huliovo that my Willie's my alu !" Perhaps it was only our idle fancy, on thir be'.ii- tifiil and pensive night, that coupled iiell's s-Iei.- tioiis with the fortunes of our guest ; but, all the same, one of us — who is always toiK','>rly thoiiglill'ul in such small matters — suddenly call- ed out, " Come, Bell, we shall have ii'i more siul lO.ig^i. Who was it tliat used to sing 'The Hiae^ >/ Mar' with a Huslieil face, as if all ili" olans fi'rui ,J(;hii O'Oroat's to Airlie were inar.-haling t.iido.' her leadership':'"' Bell is an obliging person. S'le saiii; that song, and niiiiiy anoilier; and there was an i leinpl at a modest duet or two; while the ^'easi less roar of llie waves went on, and we w:itehed the moon- light <)uivor and gleam on the liiirryiiig waters. "Oh, my (iear," says t^ueeii 'l' , putting her hainl (111 tlie head of her old friend and ooiiipau- ioii, who was iKStled at her feet, ''this is not at all like oros:-iiig llie t'lianiiel, is it'?" "Not niiieli," says Bell. "I am already con- vineed that my iiiieostors were Vikin;;s." Nor was it at all like crossing the Channel when we went below for the night — [lassing the g.'^'t ruddy sm'.oo'i, with it-; golden lamps and hu-jiied ropo>o — and sought out the privaey of one ((iiiet and neat little eabins. Uiit iiere an aet of re- tribiuive jaslice had to be adininisteied. Tl oro were two people standing alone in one of these cabins, amid a v.iUl confusion of slippers, dioss- ing bugs, and elotlios-biushes. Says the one to the other, sternly, " What did you moan by that suspieious glance when the steam-yaeht was ineutionod':'" "What steam-yacht'?" says she. innocently; but in the dusky light of the lamp her face is seen to flush, " You know very well." Ileie her lingin s iieeome somewhat nervous ; and a piteous and guilty look comes into the eyes. "Do you luenu to deny that Balfour was iii>that boat, that you knew he was to be in it, and that you dared to kee[i the knowledge from his wife '?" '' And if he was," says she, with her lips be- ginning to quiver, " how could 1 tell her V It would have driven the poor thing inad with pain. How could I tell her?" " I believe you have a heart as hard as the nether millstone." And perhaps she had ; but it was certainly not her own sorrows that were making the tears run down her face, as she pretended to be busy over a portmanteau. CHAPTER XXIX. MID-ATLANTIC. Those glad days ! — each one a new wonder as our tremendous speed drove us into successive and totally different worlds of light and color. The weather prophets were all at fault. Each morning was n. surnrise. There might have beeu^ 8'i (;|{KK\ PASTURED AND I'ICCAUlLLf. fwciiii|f i'!imdH, llii'ii 11 riittlc ii.s of iiiiisliclrv (it'll iis tiny fi'li (III (lie mill-lit niid Hti'i'iiiiiin;; d('cl>-i'.' And if ilii'ii' vi'ii' two olistiiiiUc yoiiiiji ct'Oiiiiiii'^ who wiiiild lint lit nil I'oiisi'iit to stiiiid ill till' liinidii'd ('oiii|.iiiii(iiiv,ii\ — if tlicy would in- Hilt on li>iviii{L; tlii'ii' iiioniiiiL; iniiicli up mid down till' pliiujiinji d('rli<, with llu' <;ilt-w:it('r riiniiiii':; down till ii' I'l'ddi'iii'd fiiii's — iiinl tiu'V not tiii'u' rt'Wiii'd? Tlii'V wi'ic till' di.-iiovcrcrH of tin/ fnct that «!■ were iiiniiiii),' ii race. Wliat were tliosL' blai'li (iliji'i'tM tliat li'iipi'ii deal' into tin,- sniilii:lit, iind Went liiadl'oi'i'inii-t a;,'iiiii into tlio rusliiiu: viivfs? Uiii' itfi"i' tin- otiici' till' nii'iTv dnlpliiiis Hpi'iiiii.'" into till' iiir and vaiii-li> i.."iiwii Htill and diTaindilic, ihi' idod liy a iny-i'c calin, Tiic sea liki' xiC^t fold^ of silk, dull, ^lllolllll, iiiid hir'li'i'li'vs, a wastu of luudrr and dciicatr (j;imv.-i, lii'iikcn only liy the fiiintr^t sliadouiJ wliiTc tile low waves roiled, tiie sky iiijiitiy clondi'd ovei' and also gray, with lines of yi'llowi-li ii;!;lit tlat H''" iiui'i'owei' iiid naimwer as they iieared the lioi i/oii ; and li. le t'.ie only lilt of eolor in tin) va^.'iie and shadowy picture — a sh:iip, liiild, elear line of blue all roiiiui tiie edj^e of I lie woi'ld, wlicro tlio |)ule Hoa and the pale sky met. And so we went on day after day, and the hells tolled tlie half houi's, and the ^?ong sound- ed foi' nieuls, and the monotonous eliorus of the sailoi's — '■ SrI tlMW f»n'CWl'Il, My liiiinili' yiiiiiiii glil, l'"oi' I'm liiMliiirriii- till! Itio Ornn'"— told ns of llie holy-sloniiij; of the deeks. There was mthi'i' more eai'dplayiii;.' tlnin reading;, theie was It jjjoiid deal of peifnnetory walking; somc- tiiiies there was a nous,' or two in tli" long saloon of an evening. And liy tiiis time, ton, people had got to Know each other, and eacli other's names and eireuinstunees, in ii most surprising manner. The foinial "(Jood-inorning" of the first day or two liad developed into " And how are yon this morning, Mr. Y" The smallest civility was Hudieient warranty for tlie opening of an ae- (|uainlanei'sliip. Ladies freely took any proffer- ed arm for that inevitable promenade before din- ner — all except one, and she the most remarked of all. What wan it, then, tliat seotned to sur- round her, that Hcenied to keep her apart ? A certain look in her faeeV-^she was not a widow. Hor manner y — she was almost anxionsly court- eous to every one around her All sorts and conditions of men wore eager to bring her chair, or pick lip hor dropped book, or bid other pas- sengers stand aHJde to let her piiga tlirough the coinpanionway ; and all the elderly women — to judge by tliolr looks— seemed to bless her ia tlicir hearts for her swcot face, and all the ym woiinii appeared to be cuii-iderably interestei her various eostimies; but somehow slie in no familiar ai'i|uaintanees. Tliey migiit cl leiige our bright laced Hell to make up a i If ai rope-ipioits ; and that brave lass, though siic » dom landed moie than two out of tlie dn/. 'if (pioils on the peg, would set to work vviih will, her ryes bluer than ever with the blue IIl;! from the ■■^ea, the sunlight touching the eoiisi.nn gliidne.-s of her face. Hut when our be til'iil| pale, sad gui'iieva, and thai they li;i'l sucenniijed to the teinptalions of tiie place, scemcil to be greatly struck by Laily Sylvia's a|)- [learalice, and for the first day or two paid iiiuie attention to her than to her meals. Now on ilie third d;ix, iinau'iiie our astonishment — for small things bceoMic great on lioard ship — on finJiiii; the|iretty young San l''i'aiii'iscaii come m to br.'.ik fast without a scrap of jcweliy either round \i- tii'ck or on her hands. She had even diseank' tiie forelingcr ring — an ojial surrounded with ili* monds -which we liad unaniniously declareil to Ik beautiful. Moreover, she never wore any jewilr) during the rest of that voyage. Why was tlii: Wearing jewelry, even (Jeiievau jewelry, is a liaiin nv. There less foible. Is there any magnetism radiaiiiiji o'^\^\ [„> j.(j_ from a human being that is capable of destroying Ui| Ill'llDW fillC Ih ,|, lit'v iiii;,'lit >.!i,ii iiiiki' up II I li' III s, tli()u;ili hiiic lilt of lliu (1m I lo wdi'U wiih 1 ill) till! Iiiiii- li liiiij^ lliu ri" -l.iiil R'li (jiir 111' 'iliil, ook oil, llii'N '.Illy suniewliiit. Tliry is not sill' \N liuia tlio MMi'i' on ilie ^lmt■l. But lln'ie ill lU'tive fOMlllIlT must i'X|H'rt |ii'i'. tly stop till- jiMiiie I a ili.iii I'lii' In was siillicioiit r OREEV PASTUUES AND PICCADILLY. lio silt near ii< ii' llv, will) Il'lil I'llllli I), airl was rcl'ini ay ill Kiirii|ii', It lllM' i'lil'lllls III -I , iiiiii tliai tlu-y Inn: i(f tiiL' plai'i'. >'ie Laily Sylvia's a|> or two paid iimie L'als, Now on ilie ilmiont — for simi 1 sliip — on fin liii? n I'oiiu' into lii'j.ili V I'itlu'r roiiml li III I'voii iliscani fiM windd and tho ni^hitiR wav. s drowned most (f rhu words of tlip Hcrvii-e. And yet tlu'U' wax (Diiw'tliinK Htranp' in tiic Hiiddi'iini' < wilii I'liii-h (■ I'drp-Jf pliint^od down and ilisapinari'd, and in iho lilank loniiliiifris of the sia tlicrfaftcr. Tiiu nan had ni'itlii'r friend nor ri'lative on board. There was an open space on the lower deck into licji, for the freer air, the enii';iants often cnine; ,nil there they folli»wed tlirir doniestii' piiisnits iHilMcoiiseio'H HA hei < of lieinj; lookr I do-.' ii upon mm altove, Surely i( was with no iinpt tiiient iiri'isity that our (jiieen T f'utrht her >.'entle rii."iid to rei^ard the^ie pnir people; I'lither it was (ith a f;reat syinpiitliy uid fi M-nilline^s. ()tii> loniinjj she drew her attt>ntioii Ik ayoiin;; tvoiimn, ilin iqipeared to lie also a yoiiiij; mother, for slie iiiila eoil|)leof children liawdlin^^ahiur lier heels ; I Laily Sylvia was greatly distresst'd ili it those ouii;^ thini^s should h' so dirty and o'lvii- i-ly nei:;. "■teil. She was for srU'liii'^ for lln- iiivahialil'! Ir. Kvaiis, and l)e'.;4iiiL» him to take soni" little U'.'ient to the mo! her. Hut why should they lie dirty? And why limiM iliey lie liejjfleete I y" deiniiude I that lierc.' Bcial philosoph-r, whose lieiijht is live foot three, lidok at the mother; look at her tawdry rib- oiis, her nnkniiipt hair, her dirty face. She is a omm wlio has l'"!. no womatily piide. If she [i< a hnsliand, (iud hi'lj) him! Fancy what his lime must lie. If he has irot rid of lie-', I should iiiiriiie he must lie L;lad ; he rouM keep the house t';iii"r without her. Hut look at that yoiin;; woin- lover there — I know she has a youin? family too, ir I saw them this moi'iiinr. See how she has i,ki'(l up her dres.s so that she can <.ni over the leeks; si'c how she has carefully liraideil her lir; and do vou sei' how all tlio-e tin thiiiifs she iiisly (Icelaied to I r wore any juwi , Why was thin! rounded with iliii^< 1,^.,. II washiuij; are shiniiir^ hriLrhty and look lur now, polishinfl; that knife, and puitiii',' the nth up on tli" rope to dry. For my part, I hiiv I sympathy for U'lmeii who are sipialid and I jewelry, is a hanujrty". There is no <: ason in the world whv they fiietisiii radialiii! able of destroyiiij least, of reiideiiiii mvstories of lilt 1 lis that exi.steiiL'e, wild 1)(! so. A woman — and especially a wife iiii;ht to make the best of her circumstances; 1 if her husband does drink and ill-use her, she •rn't make him any the more ashamed of hini- rions niattcis t< If by bccomiiii; a slattern, and drivinj^ him away \- stern mom uia a dirtv house. I am "oiii'' down to speak to It youiif? woniiin who is polishing; the tin ,ju!:;s." tcanier, is not al .\i„j gi,e di,!^ t,,,,^ m,il became acipiainted with and ropc-qnoiti the younf^ wife'.s c'.rcnnistaiices. These were of the purser, aii( i ^^^ i{\\ ih-eadful or pathetic. She was a lirisk nticiilars rcfrarJ d active younf^ Irishwoman, who was verv s on board. Tin i,,,! that her husband in New York had at la t ve received a toud red up enoun^h money to send for her and her tion never of tli i|,i,.,'n ; and her only" fear was that. New York enouj^h, and it wa ii^r ^^^,\^ ^ ijjj, place, there miftht be a chance ht to Lady Sylviai missing; her husband on Roinj; ashore. Queen le anxiously askd — wholly re-assured her on this point, and nun who was dyini rjro,! to be allowed to make the acipiaintance ions of his doom |io|. children, and of course she p;ave them a a look at his tw >p,ake all round, with a whole heap of fruit sunken eyes final i sweets obtained by illicit means from the ) for him, a day o of saloon steward. his funeral. Tli [),i_on— on, night and day, with this tre- nd with a union mlous speed. Even our women-folk now had lailors to the stet missed all fear of bein,<» ill. On one niorninj;, ber of the passei , tme, during a pretty stiff gale in the "Dev- th uncovered hea Hole," or "Rolling 'Forties," they were re- ! read. It was in rkably abstemious at breakfast, but not one of as unknown to ui „, succumbed; and now tln't we we-e getting dyiug wish. Tb ,, the Newfoundland Banks, thev waxed val- iant. Tlioy declared that croRsing the Atlantic was mere child's play compared to crossing tho Channel. Hell grew learned about sipiare-saiU and try. sails, Mid had picked up all ihe choruses of the sailors. "(livc a man time to mil a man down," is not at all a proper sentiinent for li young liidy ; liiii a j: "eat deal is admissible at sea. Then we had a Uilorons dir of rain, and thcro were more hinldlcd groups tliiui i ver in the sniok- iiig-rooni playing poker, and iiioie discoiisohito groups than ever at llu' top of the companion- way looking out on the leaden sky and the lead- en sea. Moreover, as the day waned, fog camo on ; and that evening, as we sat in tlie saloon, there was ominous convcr-ation aboard. Wo heard the dull booming of the fog-horns as wo sped through the night. Was not our courso somewliat too noitheily? What about Icebergs? Tonard morning should we not be dangiu'ousljr near Cijii Hiee — not darei roii-ly for ourselves, but for tlh inehored seliooiiers and smacks on the «;rcat .iaiik, any oee of which wiuild be jiloughed down by this huge vessel, with only perhaps one shiiek of agony to tell what liiid hiippeiied y It w .IS a gloomy (.•veiling. Hut then, the iie.M moiiiing! AVIiere W(is the fog'::' A (loiiie of clear blue sky; a sea of dark blue, with the ciisp white c "sts of tli(> riinuinj» waves; a fresh, invigorating westerly breeze. And now surely we were gctiing out of the re- gion of iitiknowii and monotonous waters into something delinite, human, approachable; for it was with II great interest and gladness that tho early risers I'oiuid all around thiun the anchored schooners, and it was with even a grcalci inter- est that we drevN near and passed a rowing boat lull of nil 11 whose bron/eil faces were sliiiiing red in the sun. " These are the poor fellows I told you about," said our admiral and coiiiiiiander-iii-ehief to her friend. ''Think of the daii'-'er they iniM be in on a feu'iry night — think of their wives and chil- dren at home. I should not wonder if their wive-' were glad to see them when they got back to shore !" "It is dreadful — dreadful," said Lady Sylvia; and pc'haps it was the new e^cileinciit of seeing these stiange faces that made her eyes moist. We had to pass still another long, beautiful day, with nothing iironnd lis visible but the blue sea and the blue sky ; but if the honest truth must be told, we were not at all impatient to find bt"ore us the far low line of the land. Indeed, we looked forward to leaving this life on board ship with not a little regret. We were going far- ther, perhaps to fare worse. We had become a sort of happy family by this tiiii(?, and hud niado a w hole host of friends, whom we seemed to have known all our lives. And one of us was rather proud of her skill at rope-ipioits, and another was mad on the subject of sea-air, and another — his initials were Oswald Von Rosen — was deep- ly inteicsted in the raffles and betting of t!ie smoking-room. What would the next day's run be? What would the number of the pilot be? Woidd that ancient mariner have a mustache or not y There was a frightful amount of gambling going on. The next morning our admiral insisted that there was a strong odor of sea-weed in the air, and seemed proud of the fact. " Madame Columbus," said our German friend. S4 GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY. r 'i f ■I I Hcriously, *' it ia a happy oracn. I do not think you could prevent a mutiny much lonRer — no; tlio men Huy tlu ro ih i-.r niicIi pliico m America ; tliey will not ho deceived ; they will return to Spain. The crow o! Oie I'inla are in revolt. They do not core any mo."e for tiie presence of ihone hirdH — not at all. If wt^ do not hco land soon, they will kill you and j;o home," Hut the eonliiience which we placed in our ad- miral was soon to be jiistilied. Far away on the Boutheiii horizon we at length dcMcried a pilot- IxMit ll.viiit; the flat? of prolt'erei' as,^l.stance. We hailed Willi Jot the appearance of this small ves- nel, which the savafie iidiiiliitants of the nearest coast had doiilitless sent out to welcome the pi- oneers (d' civilization; and we rejiarded wirh awe and reverence the siihlime featiM'cs of Maiiunic Columbus, now irradiiited with triii!n|)h. As for the wretched creatures who had been mutinous, it is not for tills hiiiid to cliionicle tlu; sudden chaiiife ill their mimuer: "They iniplorecl hei'," Huys u >,'reiit historhm, "to pardon tiieir ijj;no- raiu'c, incredulity, mid insolence, which hail cre- ateil so niiieli inineces>ary dis(|iii('t, and had so often obsiniet' d the prosecution of lu-r well-con- ceiled plan ; and pn.-.siii^, in the wiinuth of their adiiiiraiion, from on,' extreme to unothcr, they now proiioiuieLil iier whom they li:id so lately re- viled and threateii'il, to be a person inspired by Heaven with siifii'.eiiy and lortiliide more than hu- man, in order to ai i'(iiii;ili.»li a ile>ij,n so far l)cyond the ideas and eo;i:(|iliiiis of all former af^es." Strau'.'er still, the iiiitlve whom v,e took on board this friendly boat was found to be clotlied, iind he spoke a iaiiu'ui'.p' which, alth()a;,'li not Knjjlish, was Intel. i,Lril)U'. We ref.'ai'de