IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 4. .*'' -fe ,# ^ 1.0 I.I 1.25 l^|2B |2.5 ■^ 1^ 1 2.2 iM 111112.0 1.4 III 1.8 1.6 V] <^ /^ ^;. ^ % '^> 'V o 7 /A Photographic Sdences Corporation m\ ^ decided as to what she should say in the event of Sir Arthur Chasemome proposing to her. She felt it was very likely he would so. She had known him now for uix months, during the whole of which time he had paid her marked attention. But at the beginning of their acquaintance he had been only plain Arthur Cbasemore, with his profession aa a barrister for a means of susistence, 'and she had snubbed him in proportion. When he inherited the baronetcy, and, as she and her mother had fondly imagined, a fortune on which to keep up his title, things looked different, and Miss Nettleship . had encour- aged the young man to an extent which would fully justify him in believing she would / THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. •uoepi hi« offer of ni»rriftffe And now, not* wilbatanding Lady Willlftin'i ftdmonitioni, tha ooald not make op her mind what to do. Not that the loved Sir Arthur. She loved no one in this world, ftod nothing, anlesi it were the prospective ohanoe of » Ufe of eMe and afHaence. She was sick of poverty. She had been reared in an atmosphere of falsohood and fraud, and in her ideas the want of money* was associated with every sort of evil. She saw the misery and dissen- sion it had wrought with her mother aud her- self. It was the want of money that had soured Lady William's temper, and made her stoop to wraof^le with her landladies and cabmen, and to cheat her friends. It was that which made her lie, and flatter, and gmmble, until she had scarcely an amiable quality left in her disposition. It was this same want of money that com* SBlled them to associate with people like the tingos, who were so much beneath them in poMition ; to submit to the insolence of the Macdougal, and to be put on a par with Selina Farthingale and her father. Regina felt all this keenly. Notwithstanding their poverty, she never forgot that she was the grand-daughter of the Duke of Mudford, and would have been married before now, if she had not considered that her birth should sell for a higher price in the matri- monial market than had yet been offered for it. Yet, if Sir Arthur Chasemore was not a rich man, he had, at all events, the power to take her away from all the surroundings ■he so much disliked, and to give her a certain position as a baronet's wife. And then were was the chances of his discover- ing that his cousin was dead and of inherit- ing his grandfather's fortune. It was very puazliog to know what to do. As she entered the dingy little sitting-room, the windows of which looked as if they had not been cleaned for a year, and encountered her mother in a dirty cap and dressing-gown, trying to decipher the morning's news through her glassos. Regina shuddered. How she longed to get away from it all, by any means and with any one, so that she need never be subjected again to the dis- comfort she was enduring now I Lady William glanced up scrutinisingly, as her daughter entered. She was not quite sure of the temper in which Regina had parted with her tne night before. ' Yon don't look particularly tidy this morning,' she said, as her eye fell on a cmrapled muslin dress, with crumpled frills about the neck sleeves. ' I dare say not 1 But if so, I am only in keeping with the house. There is nothing particularly tidy about it, or, I might say. mamma, s'jont yourself,' replied Regina, as she drew a dish of cold bacon towards her and tried to get up an appetite for it. ' Well I it is useless to wear out one's best things in the morning, when there is no one to see them. But von will change your dress, of oonne, before Sir Arthur arrives T' ' Yes ; I suppose so.' 'Have you decided in what words to reply to him in case he proposes to you ?' •No.' ' Really, Regina, you seem to me to fly in the face of providence. I pointed out to you last night how essential it is not to dis< miss this young man all at once, and how delicate a task you have before you, and yet yon tell me this morning that you have not even thought what to say to him on the sub- ject. The end of it will be that you will refuse him before you know what you are doing.' ' I don't think I shall I' ' You can never dream of accepting him, under the eircumstanoes ?' gasped Lady William, as her eyes and nose kept working violently with her unusual emotion. ' I don't think I shall,' repeated Regina. ' But you ought to be sure : you ought to have no thought upon the matter,' replied her mother. ' A beggarly baronet, who has not enough money to keep up his position, whilst his cousin, Mr. Chasemore,muy be in London to-morrow with fifty thousana pounds in his pocket t You have no more idea of your own value than that table has I' ' Look here, mamma, I don't want to quarrol about this ; bub I mean to do exactly as I choose. You are always holding up my value to me, but what has it brought as yet T At four-and-twenty I am still living in these wretched lodgings with you — still in the market in fact — aud I am sick of it all.' ' That is right ; abuse your mother, who has been doing her very best to get yoa married for the last six years. Is it my fault that you are still hefe ? See how I scrimp and save, to take you out in society where you may be seen aud appreciated ; and what has come of it T— nothing.' * A great deal too much, in my opinion,' interrupted Regina. ' The acquaintance of such women as Mrs. Runnymede and Miss Farthingale, and obligations which we have not the power of returning : I hate the whole system of our life. Can you wonder I long to escape from it T' ' This is gratitude I Pray go on ; I shal not be at all surprised now to hear that yoa have decided on cutting society altogether TBI ROOT or ALL EVIL. I and lahaitting henceforward on love in a |c»ttiige.' ' I Rhould he very mach aarprieed to hear lit DiyMlf. I ftm t«>o muoh yoar daughter for Itbat. I have been bmaght up to believe in but one evil— poverty ; in but one good — wealth. I am not likely to forget the leieon I DOW. ' Yet you propoee to marry Sir Arthur |Chaa«-more ?' ' I never propoeed it ; I only mid I should [do M I thought ht. I might have married sfore thii, m»mm», if it had not been for fOQ. But you have always ooniiidered your iwn good rather thnn mine in the matt«r of I lettlement for life. 1 don't think that ii lir. You have had your day, mine is to ime. If I can enrioh us both at the same lime, well and good. If I can only relieve Inyself from the burthen of poverty, you |nnat not blame me for doing it.' ' Are you in love with this man T' de* laaanded Ladv William. Mine Np''tfeship'fl face as she answered the inestion was a study. • In love f she repeated scornfully , ' why, |1 don't know what the words mean. I have BU reared in povertv, and the frauds which me seem inseparable from it ; and I want I get into a purer atmosphere, where I shall Inot be oompelled, for the sake of my dinner lor the price of my cab. to cull men and wo- Imen my friends whom otherwise I should be ■hamed to be aaaooiated with. That is rhat I think of when I speak of marriage, have a tolerable face and flgure, and I am le grand-danghter of a duke. To some men liese are advantages, and in exchange for iem I demand liberty and a competence. I for sale, in fact, for a certain price, and I choose to lower it that is my business. l£very merchant is allowed to cheapen his ■wares if he sees it ib for hia advantage to |do so.' 'Oh, indeed I' replied Lady William pet- Ushly ; ' that is all that you want, is it ? "Tell, you should not find it difficult to suit rourself at that rate ; and now, if you lave finished your breakfast you had Btter go and change your dreas. You would dear, even at a couple of hundred a year, you were caught looking auch a figure of in as you do know.' Regina took her mother's hint and left the room. She really wanted to be alone for a few hours, and think over what was beat to done. Yet, when it was announced to her lat afternuon that Sir Arthur Chasemore ras waiting to see her in the drawing-room, ihe had come to no decision as to how their Bonveraation would terminate. The young l>aronet had aeized the earliest opportunity to pav his call, and as he attended Miss NettU* ship's pleasure, he presented a very fair piotnre of the average good«looktng English* roan. He was of middle height and well built, with brown hair and eyes, and a beard and mouatache of which he was known to b« inordinately vain. He was dressed in the fashion also, for, notwithstanding Mrs. Par- thingale's desire to make him out a very poor man. Sir Arthur had an income sufficient to keep himself a^ a gentleman and hia wife as a lady, when he got her. Nutwithatandiog these advantaees, how* ever, theie was a hard look about the young mai/a expression when he was annoyed, whiok betoken ill for those who should offend him seriously. His was not a diapoaition to exeroiae the divine quality of forgivimess easily, though few of his ordinary acquaint- ances thought so. Im is as difficult for society to ascertain what a man is, as it is for the domestic circle to ignore what he is not. When a lover ia courting, however, he appears in hia happieat colours, and the amile with which Sir Arthur turnod to freet Retina's entrance was sweetness itself, t even melted her for the moment, and made her think how much pleasanter it was to encounter than her motiier's snappish questions or bitter sarcasm. After a short conversation on the events of the preceding evening, during which Miss Nettleahip rallied her vitiitor on hia devotion to Selina Farthingale, Sir Arthur summoned up all his courage and dashed at once to tha point. ' Mias Nettleship— Regina 1 I am snro you must guess the motive which has brought me here to-day. You must have seen the feelings with which I have learned to regard you. You cannot have known me for so many months without reading something of the inmost workings of my heart.' ' Really, Sir Arthur, I don't know what you are talking about I ' She said it so naturally, and with snch a pretty air of mystiHcation, that a bystander would have been trapped into believing she spoke the truth. And when she had finiahed the sentence she fixed her blue eyes 'nquir* ingly upon him as though waiting .or hii explanation. * Is it poaaible that you do not understand me — that you do not know that the hope of making you my wife haa (;;rown to be the greateat desire of my life ? ' He had drawn nearer to her with the last words, and tried to take her hand. But she shrunk away from him. • Your wife I Uh, Sir Arthur ! you cannot think of what you are saying. ' ' Cannot think of it ! Why, I think of 10 THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. r i nothing else by night and by day, and I ■hoald have spoken to yon long ago had my time not been so much occapied by all thia law busioess. Besides, I wanted to find out exactly how I stood financially, before I asked for this dear hand,' 'Indeed, Sir Arthur, you do not know how little you are asking for. I am simply penniless. I have no marriage portion, and people cannot live upon nothing, you know. ' This she said in order that he might be led iato stating exactly what {his own in- come amounted to. ' I would not dream of dragging you down into poverty for my sake. I love you too well for that. But I have sufBicient for as both, Regina. Part of my late grand- father's property was entailed, and he was compelled to leave it to his sons or their heirs ; by which I, being an only child, oame into my fathers p'trtion of five thou- sand pounds. This, added to the proceeds of my profession, which I hope may increase, will yield us five or six. hundred a year, on which I can at least keep yon in the same pos- ition in which you hav« been brought up. It is not wealth,my dearest RegiDa,but it is not absolute beggary ; and if yoa love me as I love you, I am sure we shall be very happy together. What do you say to the pros- p«j»'?' ' Sir Arthur ! you have taken me alto- ge\;ber by surprise. Whatever I may ' ' Oh, pray go on ! ' ' Whatever I was going to say, I may have foolishly thought about you, I never believed you to be a marrying man ; and you have set my braiu in a perfect whirl. I cannot give you an answer without a little reflection.' ' I suppose it is hardly to be expected,' he said in a disappointed tone, ' though I made sure you rr tst have seen what was coming. But you can at least tell me if you love me, Regina.' 'That would be telling you everything,' she answered. 'That part of it requires more consideration than all the rest. Sup' pose we should make a mistake V ' Don't think of it. Surely we are old Kjnough to know our own minds ? I am, at ail events, for I was thirty last birthdav, and no amount of consideration could alter my feelings with regard to you. ' ' It is such an important step to take,' sighed Regina, as she played with the frills ou her dress, and could not devise any means by which to put off answering the fatal question. Could she be contented on five or six hundred a year T she thought to her- self. Did it mean maids of all work, dirty lodgings, and squalling children 7 She had not had much experience in trying how far money would go, but she was very much afraid it did mean all that, in the fntnre, if not now. And she shrank from the prospect. She could not sell herself so cheap. Sir Arthur attributed her silence to maidenly modesty, and tried to set her at ease again. ' I have set my prospects before you in their worst light,' he said presnntly. ' There is another side to the question, though, as yet, an uncertain one. Have yon ever nearcl my Cousin Vivian Chasemore mentioned ?' ' Mr. Farthingale told us the story last night. ' ' Mr. Farthingale is very sanguine about finding the poor boy again, but I fear he will be disappointed.' ' Are you 1 Why ?' Regina oould hardly help the suddenly awakened interest becoming evident in her voice, as she uttered these words : ' Because — but this is a secret, remember, and I would tell it to no one but yourself. I have received private intelligence thid morn- ing which leads me to believe too certainly in Lis death. Perhaps you do not know the difference Lhis would make to me — may I say to us ? Sir Peregrine left the bulk of his fortune,fifty thousand pounds, to my cov^in Vivian. It ought to have gone with thf: title you know ; but he had the right of its disposal, and so I cannot complain. But if we receive the news of Vivian's death, or he still continues missing after three years, the money reverts to me. Of course, if the letter I have received caii be verified, I shall come into it at once. But though it will procure a worthier case in which to shrine my jewel; I trust that no fortune could have the power to make any difference in your feelings to- wards me, Regina.' ' Oh no 1 of course not.' Fifty thousand pounds within his very grasp ! It was not likely the letter had been written only to deceive him. How she wished he would confide to her from whom it had come. But she could not let him go under this uncertainty. At all hazards, she must chain him to her side. ' You — you must be very anxious,' she faltered ; ' but: I am afraid the sad news will prove to be true. I thought it so strange, from the first, that if Mr. Vivian Chasemore were alive he shonld not have communicated with any of his friends for so long.' ' So everybody says, but it did not do for me to be too sanguine. For the last two months the lawyers have been writing and advertising in every direction, without suc- cess. When I received the letter this morn- ing, the description in which tallies in every i respect with that of my poor cousin,! sent it TUB AOOT OF ALL EVIL. 11 •t once to Farthingale, with orders to inquire into the matter. It will be a great blow to the little map's vanity to find he ii wrong after all. He has been lo certain that Vivian would turn up again.' ' Yea ; he aaid as much last eTenins. But BO friend of yours, Sir Arthur, could wish the rumour of your cousin's death to prove untrue.' ' I care nothing for what my friends wish ; I only want to know what you will say upon the subject. Tell me, Regina, that whatever happens to me, I shall still have the comfort ^ of your affection to fall back upon.' He came round to the back of her chair, I and leant pver her. He would not take an i undecided answer for the second time. Miss Nettleship felt she would have to say * Yes, ' r ' No,' now, * Oh I Sir Arthur, cannot you gueaa ?' she murmured. * I dare not. Too great a stake depends upon the issue. My ardent wishes might lead me wrong. You must seal my fate with j your own lips? ' Will you not give me till to-morrow ?' ' Not to say you love me. Your heart I must tell you so much. Give me the assur- lanoe that I am not indifferent to you, and I I will promise to wait patiently for that which [must follow it.' ' Indeed, you are not indifferent to me [then. Were it so, I could have answered I our question at once. But whnn a woman's eart is concerned, you do not know the liiHculty she finds in telling the truth.' * Say no more, dearest. I understand it ill. You have made me the happiest of nen.' At this juncture, the lodging-house servant abruptly opened the door to announce Mr. Tarthingale, and Sir Arthur Chasemore had Hy just time to put a few feet of dis- ice between himself and Misj Nettleship, rhenthe little man came flyim; into the (om. ' Eureka 1 Sir Arthur ! I was told I should |nd you here. We have succeeded at last !' exclaimed, as he flourished his hat and ibrella over his head. J 1 was afraid you would find it to be true, Farthingale ; but the news, though ex- Dted, is very shocking. When did the p jot low die T' asked the baronet, in a tone of oper sympathy. ' Die ! My dear Sir Arthur, he's no more than you are I I've just been talking to im ; that is to say, if you mean your cousin ivian.' ' What about the letter, then ?' I ' Oh, that letter you sent me this morning ? Il've had no time to see after it, and it'g lucky I didn't waste any on is. I found news waiting me from another quarter when I returned home last night, and I verified it the first thing tout you needn't go en raving as if he'd tried murder ye.' 'It's worse than murder, a deal,' cried the sirl, with her eyes still biasing. ' I shouldn't feel nothing of that when 'twas once over ; but I dont think my face will ever seem the same to me again, now's he's touched it.' ' Lord hft' meroy on us I Yon''re a bora fool I' said Mrs. Biell,as she turned sway and went downstain, out of all patience with her extraordinary ffraadchild. Left to hersdf , all the passion faded out of Bonnie's face, leaving it a deadly white tostead. She halted for a minute when her iprandmother had parted with her, gazing into vacancy. 'I wonder if I am mad,' she whispered, in a half-frightened voice. ' I wonder if I shall go wild s parcel T' Yon muit know were he's gone The lawyer thought to himself, ' Eithf r the rl is ignorant, or she is obstinate*' He Dked in her face and decided it waa the Br. [< Perhaps Miss Mary will be able to re- iber if we give her time,' he said. I' No! I can't remember nothing about it. h gone clear out of my head, like it has out fgrandmuther's. I * Well, well I don't trouble yourself on the hitter,' replied the lawyer, with professional 'icy. ' If Mr. Waverley is the person I le him to be, he will be only too glad to id me his own address, as soon as his iundfl let him know I require it. Can you 3ribed him to me ?' I* Oh ! he's beautiful I' cried Bonnie, eager* * His 'air as bln't see as we've the right of showing 'em {[trangers.* ^hy, it can't 'urt 'em for the gentleman walk round. He won't touch | noth- fou may take my word for it, I will not; ct,I should wish you both to accompany I whilst I make my tour of inspection.' iNothing can be fairer than that,' quoth ni. Bell, as she preceded the visitor and ' granddaughter up the stairs. The bedroom was entered first. There J positively nothing to look at there, except t old portmanteau, which Mr. Farthingale -lined carefully, bnt waa quite oasnooeu* fal in hii attempt to decipher what initiab had orif|eeo , Bonnie ! . It seems a long time since I ^ere last, doesn't it ? ' Terrible long,' acquiesced the girl, in a f voice. ['ve been making a lot of friends in Bir- |gham, and a lot of money into the bin.^ 'm very slad of that, sir.' |¥es , I don't know when I've been so lessful in my profession before. They me to go back there as soon as Ive finithed my engagement at SwaoMn. Bui I'd rather get sometbins to do at old Dnaj Lane. I miss London life very much, Bonnitt . and I miss yon into the bargain. I've nevwr found such another 'neat-handed|littl« Phillip to keep my rooms tidy and ohat to me all th* time I'm taking my meals. Tin girl who waited on me at Birmingham waa so ugly, I never rang the bell except I was absolntdlj obliged.' Bonnie laughed softly to herself at thi* announcement. ' And how have voti been getting on in my absence T' continued Mr. Waverley ; ' got any new lovers, Bonnie, eh T ' * Lovers 1 ' repeated the girl ; ' I never hav« none — I don't care for 'em.' 'Oh, now, Bonnie, that's a story. Yon know Kit Masters is awfully sweet upon yon. He used o bring you flowers every day this spring. Haven't you made up your mind to marry him yet ? ' Bonnie's face paled and flushed altornatoly with emotion, and Alfred Waverley went on toasing her, until he saw her eyes were filled with tears. ' Why, what's up now, child ? You're surely not going to cry over a harmless joke. If you don't marry Kit Masters it will be somebody else, you know. You're a great deal too pretty. Bonnie, to go without a hua* band.' 'But I will,' said Bonnie, through her tears. ' I hate 'em all ; I don't want none of 'em : I mean to bide as I am.' ' Oh, you little vixen !' exclaimed Waver* ley, laughing, as she ran down stain to fetoh his mutton-chop. He was still sitting over the lunoheor -tray, ruminating what he should do with himself that evening, and wondering what businesa the visitorof the morning could possibly have to transact with him, when he was told that the same G;entleman had returned, and waa waiting below. ' Show hini up,' said Waverley, and the next minute the lawyer stood upon the threshold. ' I am fortunate, sir,' he commenced, but as soon as he oaughtsight of the young man'a face, he changed his tone. < Good heavens !' he exclaimed, ' it is as I thought, and you are Vivian Chasemore.' 'Mr. Farthingale,' said the other, 'bow> ever did yon trace me here ?' '**,'! will tell you in a minute. We have been looking for you for the last two months. Meanwhile I hope you will shake hands with me.' ' With pleasure,' returned Vivian ; ' I har* no grudge against you, Mr. Farthingale ; bak if you come here with any intent to try and BfT THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. nil 1,1 CiniUMl* UM to rcUke my plao* in sooiaty, I rewArn yoa it will be aa«leM. Had I ever 4}ont«nipUt«d raoh * attp, my father*! death would heve pat an end to it. There is no motive now to indaoe me to alter my way of living. I have ohoeen my path in life, and I mean to stiek to it.' ' J Hit eo, Mr. Chasemore ; and I bring yon news that will render you more independent ■till. There is no need now, sir, that yoa ■hoald follow anything but yoar own fanoy lor tlie fatare.' ' I don't understand you, Mr. Farthingale.' 'You are a rich man, Mr. Vivian.' ' A rieh man T' ' I mean what I say. You doubtless learnt from the newspapers, two months af^o, of the death of your grandfather, Sir Peregrine Chasemore.' ' I did ; but my father sold the rever* ■ionary interest of his small expectations from that quarter in favour of his widow : ■o I knew there oould be nothing for me.' ' On the contrary, there is everything. By your grandfather's will you inherit the whole of his private fortune — fifty thousand pounds 1' Vivian Chasemore looked bewildered. ' Fifty thousand pounds I Are you making A fool of me, .i*. Farthingale ?' ' I am telling you the bare truth, air.' 'Then what becomes of my cousin Arthur?' ' He took nothing but his father's original portion of five thousand oounds.' 'Is that just?' ' It was Sir Peregrine's will, Mr. Chase- more. And now, how soon will you take possessioD of your property ?' * Give me one moment to gain my breath again. Fifty thousand pounds ! It seeiTv incredible. I feel like a, Croesus ! Whatever made my old grand-dad think of me after that lashion ?' ' He names you in his will as his favourite grandchild, and I suppose that is sufficient reason for the bequest. But come now, Mr. Vivian, you must not remain here >' Where am I to go ?' 'Come home with me — at least for to- night. I will try and get your cousin Sir Arthur to meet vou at dinner, and my daughter wiU be delighted to receive you. This will give you time to think over your prospects, and you can settle up everything here to-morrow. Will you come ?' ' I will,' said Vivian Chasemore. CHAPTEB V. ' SUP HWl IN TBI DARK.' As soon as Mr. Farthingale had safely d«. Sosited Vivian Chasemore in the care ef the elighted Selina, he flew round to ooinmnni- oate the news of his success to Sir Arthur, and not finding him at his chambers, was directed by his housekeeperito Lady William's apartments, where, as I have already related, he interrupted a very interesting conversation between the object of his search and Regina Nettleship When Mr. Farthingale plumply asked the baronet to go round with him at once and welcome his cousin, Sir Arthur did not well see how he could refuse the request. To have shown any unwillingness iu the matter, would have looked like disappoint- ment at Vivian's return, so he was fain to comply. The presence of Mr. Farthingale prevented his doing more than bid Regina a formal farewell, though he looked unutterable things in doing so, which she pretended not to see, tor the intelligence that the lawyer had brought them had fallen on her like a sudden blow. ' I will certainly accompany you to see my cousin Vivian,' said Sir Arthur to Mr. Far- thineale, ' aui you must relate to me the whole story of his recovery on our way. I caunot tell you the relief I feel in hearing of his safety. I had almost made up my nund that he was dead. ' * And you will dine with us ?' asked the little lawyer, eagerly. ' With pleasure 1 continued to Resioa, very hurriedly, but thn cause admits of no delay. I trust I shall see ,'ou to-morrow.' But Regina had already', ost her interest in seeing him. She requireil time for con- sideration, and invented ar. engagement on the spot. 'Not to-morrow. Sir Arthur. Mamms and I are engaged out for the whole day.' ' Indeed ! I am sorry 1 The next day then ?' ' I am not sure of what mamma may havel arranged for us even then, but should we b« at home we shall be most happy to receive! you ; and your cousin Vivian also.if you likej to bring him,' she added poliiely, ' Manv tV'ftnks. I cannot answer fori Vivian, but I certainly can for myself. And now, Mi; Farthingale, I am at your ser vice.' As they drove to the lawyer's house, S: Arthur heard the whole history that is alread] known to the reader ; and when they arriv( there, they found Vivian (jbasemore alone the drawing-rooni, Miss Selinahaving alipj Miss Nettleship,' he ' I have to leave yon j THE BOOT or ALL EVIL. ithuar asked the lawyer's house, Sii history that is already oa when they arrived n Cbasemore alone ifl Selina having slipj' »j to adorn henolf in her most ' killing' • for the ooming dinner. The consins, had not seen each other for fire years, never been intimate friends, and there a stiffness, evidently felt on both sides, the way the^ greeted each other, that laiade Mr. Farthingale decide the best thing |m ooald do was to leave them alone for a tile while in order to oonqaer it. ' This is a most asreeable surprise, Vivian,' •re the first woras Sir Arthur said after k«ir host had quitted the room. 'Prom ir long absence and complete silence, we re almoet afraid there was no chance of rar turning up again. ' * An agreeable surprise, do you call it ? I konld have thought it would have been itethe contrary to you,' laughed his cou- ' Now, do you mean that for politeness, lur, or is it your real sentiment T Be. lose I'm an actor, you know, and used to 1 a spade a si>ade ; and I would rather ir you say outriifht that my ooming back I a great disappointment to you, than that v should carry the burden of a falsehood your soul for my sake.' * Yes ; we heard that you had been really ■pelled to — ^to — adopt the stage as a meaas rapport,' replied Sir Arthur, evading any iwer to the question put to him. ' What immense change our grandfather's ecoen* lo will has wrought for you !' * I have to see yet whether it will be for * better,' said Vivian; 'I have grown to re the profession, and am not sure whether Ithall be contented to live a lazy life, and ) the bread of idleness. I have an engage- it at Swansea to oommtnoe next Monday, i if I cannot get a. substitute, I shall Ifil it' / . ' What an extraordinary taste I ' ejaoulat- ' Sir Arthur ; • this is scarcely what Sir Bgrine intended in leaving you the heir i^his whole private fortune. i I can't help it. I never asked him to ive me so, nor old Farthingale to look me How he found me at last, I cannot say, I hardly ever read a paper, and as the Brtisements only mentioned me by my I name, none of my friends would have loenised they were intended for me.' ^ xou have kept our name a secret then, I r thankful to u nderata nd. ' IJStrictly so 1 I have gone by that of " ever since I left home. ' f* Vivian I why did you leave it T ' r Because of that abominable woman ler was fool enough to marry. No lid live in the same house with her. a standing disgrace, and set him against into the bargain. Is she aliva still ? ' /Yes, as you will be able to judge for Al- my ono She yoanalf bafore looo. 8h« ia inra to And yon out, now that you hava con* home, in hope* of shaiing yonr mod fortune. ' * Then she will be disappointed. I'd soon* •r throw my money in the gutter. I say, Arthur, whatever made the grand-dad leava it to me T ' ' Who can tell ? ' rejoined Sir Arthur, pet- tishly. ' It's not worth discussing. I snp« pose the old man was in his dotage. It'a yours, and that's enough.' ' Of course yon oame into something. ' ' Only my father's portion of the marriage •ettlemenl' ' Are you married, Arthur ? ' | pointed hopes. vVhen Sir Arthur had taken hia departure,] and Vivian Chaaemore had retired for thij night, the lawyer followed hia daughter intol her private aitting-room to disouaa the day*!! prooeedingih ' What do yon think of that young 0ha8ei| more, Selina?' ' He seems very wild, papa. He will aoool make ducks and drakes of his fifty thonaand| pounda 1 ' ' So I think. However, he haa no head| for business, and as the money ia aafely my hands now, I may be able to perauadtl him to leave it ao. If he will throw it) away ' 'Some of it may aa well drift into oi coffers as into those of less worthy people,| I quite agree with you.' ' Sharp girl I ' reaponded Mr. Farthingal«j| putting her head. ' But if so, it will only fii ' its way eventuidly back to its original son — eh, Selina? I fancy you would have more objection to be 'my lady,' than should to see you so ! ' 'Wait till I am asked, papa.' ' No my dear, that is not like your usi good sense 1 Gentlemen often want to hav '"%. THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL Uadator Mkod that young OhMe-l U\r avM opened on thea* HttU maktori. for •nght I inow to tho eontrary, Sir Ar« 'lar ia not wn twMr* that I am prepared mak« a settleaient upon yon. And it ronld b« an immenM help to him. In faot, don't aee how he ie to keep np hie title ithout it Hie preaent podtion la nothing tort of beggary.' Well, I can't aay I ahould have any ob< stioD to get Sir Arthur over Regina Nettle- lip'a head. She'a been angling her very It for him, the laat three montha.' Miaa Nettleahip t Nonaenae ! Why, haa uot a penny. Mv dear, I tell you Arthur cannot afford to marry on hie »nt iooome. He haa not the wherewithal in to furniah a houae. ' ' And you'd do all that for na, napa ? ' ' To he aure I would. And give you a ir thnuaand a year tb atart with into the M-flain.' Miaa Farthin^ale'a eye< aparkled. She snaht it quite imposaible that the baronet ila be proof againat auoh an array of aptatioaa. > * By the way, roy dear,' continued the law- I have some newa for you. Mrs. Ma- ira ia dead, and her niece Janet Oppen* ia without a home. I have been oblig- ito ask her here.' I* H .e I ' exclaimed Miaa Selina ; ' not for f, I hope. You know how I hate eirla.' don't think vou'll dislike Miaa Oppen- She aeema a quiet, inoffenaive aort of kture. But the period ot her atay here ia ifinite. The fact ia, Felina, I have bad (charge of the old woman 'a property for paat, and her death waa ao sudden hi I muat have time to pull myaelf togeth- M bit, before I can hand over what ia due |the nieoe.' 'I see ! But hasn't Miaa Oppenheim any Itiona ! ' ' None living nearer than India, and no that takea any interest in her affaire, ^the outside ahe can't come into more than iw thouaand ; atill, unless I have a little kthins-time, I must draw her capital from rested funds, and that ia not what I want just at present, so it is convenient to keep her in the dark as to her real an.' kjr no more, papa. I will make the best incubus. And, indeed, I do not know ther, after all, the companionship of a lady not leave me freer than ever. I am ibly tired, you know, as to etiquette and that nonsense.' ^True I and you need make no fuss over Oppenheim. I want her to believe that I is greatly indebted to us for the office of a le, BO put her in her proper position from tha flr«t,and oiaka h«r a aort of bvmbla ooai* panion to yoaraelf. Taka her oat with yon, or leave her behind, Joat as you think fit I don't wiah to iooonvenianoa you in tha alight* aai dame, Selina. ' ' All right, papa I And whan am I to axpeot the young lady to arrive f ' I ahall bring her over to-morrow She ia quite alone, with the exception of a aervant, and it think it aa well aha ahonld leave tha honae before the funeral takea place. Beaidea it will prevent her uoeaiping over her affaire with atransera, and getting idea* pat into her head which we may find it difflouli to aradieata.' Aa Mr. Farthingale had propoeed, ao it came to paaa,and the following day aaw Miaa Janet Oppenheim an inmate of their home. The cab with her boxea and h^raelf drove up to the door, juat an hour after Vivian Chaaemore had left the houae to return to tha lodginga in Drury Lane. Miaa Oppenheim waa of tha order of 'cattv' women. Many people woald have called her good-looking, but there waa a atrontc * feline expresaion. about everything ahe did or aaid. Selina Farthingale waa sharp and cunning ; Janet Oppenheim waa intensely 'sly.' She had large prominent eyea of % light blue colour that were srldom raised ; a long nose that drooped at the end, and ashaip pointed ohin that turned upwards, with a email puckered mouth that looked aa if butter could not melt in it. Her pale atraw-coloured hair waa drawn plainly off her face and twiated in a coronet round her head. She waa a woman who might be capable of anyamonntof deceit, and malice, and revenjjie; who might conceive it ai)d carry it out to the end, alwaya with the aame downcast eyea and puckered mouth. She could have taken in any man, even the enemy of mankind himaelf. Everybody, in fant, except Mr Farthingale. She quite took in Mr. FakCbingale'a daughter. Wneta Selina hrat aaw this soft pusay-oat creature, with the sly eyes and the low voice, ahe believed she could do anything she choae with her. She had intended to keep Miaa Oppenheim in her preaumed place from the beginning, but Janet never gave her an opportunity of doing ao. She waa so reserved and timid that she had to be coaxed to be made to talic at all ; and her apologiea for the commonest trouble taken for her, and her entreaties that no one ahonld put them* aelvea out of the way on her account, became painful to liaten to. Miss Selina lost no time in trying to ascertain, on her papa's account, how mnoh Janet Oppenheim knew of them poaition in which her aunt, Mrs. Mathers, had left her ; but at the close of the interview she waa obliged to confess htrself unable to n Si THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL. decide the extent of her itaect'e knowledfte, * li WM so good of yonr dear papa to offer me the shelter of his home,' Miu Oppen* heim purred. ' What should a poor nrl like myself have done all alone in those lodgings f And I have never been used to do anything for myself, yon see. My poor aunt was like a mother to me. I have never known what 1 1 is to have a wish uagratified.' ' That is a pity, isn't it T' replied Selina. ' So many women have to work for their own living in this world, that it does not do 'u be brought up too softly, unless one has curtain prospeota in the future.' ' True, dear Miss Farthingale ; and per- haps I have been more indulged than is good for me. Still it was my dear aunt's pleasure, and sLe had a right to do as she ohose.' ' Her death must make a great change for you, does it not ?' ' Ah! not whilst I am with you and your father in this charming home. I fear it is quite wrong and ungrateful of me to feel so oomtcrtable here as I do. And will you for- f've me,dear Miss Farthingale, if I say that cannot help feeling as if y /a were already my friend ?' Sehna was not much given to making friends with her own sex ; but she stumbled over some phrase relative to her hoping Miss Oppenheim would look upon her as such, in reply. She had received a second admoni- tion from her father to be sure and keep their guest in good temper for the present. ' I have always conceived so high an idea of what female friendship should be,' mur- mured Janet. ' I remember, when I was at school, being quite laughed at for thn strength with which I handled the subject in an essay, that won the iirst prize in the annual exam- ination.' ' Where were you educated ?' * At St. Anne's College, Lymehurst. Mrs. Mathers gave me the very first advantages. She considered it quite necessary that I should be able to teach others, if so required.' 'Oh I educated for a govetness,' thought Miss Selina ; ' she can't have been reared with expectations. Mrs. Mathers intended you for a teacher, then, 'she continued aloud. ' Until my cousin William died. He was her grandson, you know, and I am only her grandnieoe. But when aunt was relieved of placing him in the world, she had me home from St. Anne's %t once, and I have lived with her ever since.' ' Dotis she mean by that, that the money William was to have inherited has come to her instead ?' speculated her oompsnion. The next words Miss Oppenheim said seemed to contradict the idea. 'How different our lots in life are, desrl Miss Farthingale I You, so rich and happy, surrounded b^ kind relations i and poor me — alone and friendless, with so little to look [ forward to.' * We never ean tell what is in the future | for us. ' ' But we can pretty well guess. With all I Tour advantages, you are sure to make si brilliant marriage before long.' Miss Selina thought of av Arthur, and j simpered. It was really pleasant to be purred j over by this flattering pussy-cat. ' That remains to be seen,' she answered, | smiling. ' I may be an old msid after all.' ' Oh, never I never I' cried Miss Oppen* heim, clasping her hands ; ' that would be an { impossibility. Now, confess, dear Miss Far* thingale, that you are engaged already.' ' I shall confess nd such thing.' ' But I .n sure I'm right. To a duke, per* haps, or an earl ! No ? Then to a baronet, | at the very least.' ' Well, there are more unlikely things in I the future than that f shall be " my lady," 1 1 must say,' replied Selina, with a self-oon8oioui| air. ' I was was certain of it. Oh, let m«l take a very, very great liberty, and ask hii| name.' 'It is "Sir Arthur," but I shall not teUl you a word more. You must guess all the] rest for yourself.' 'Sir Arthur! What a heavenly name! And he is tall, I feel, and noble in appear] ance and very handsome.' ' You will see him before long, and be ablci to judge for yourself. But remember he ill only a friend. I am < more engaged to iiin than you are.' ' Ob, I cannot believe that i' ' It is true, nevertheless. ' ' Then if you are not, you soon will be,l dear Miss Farthingale, for I know it is enl tirely with yourself. And you will be " m{ lady," and you will let me be your very faithi ful humble little friend to your life's endj exelaimed MisA Janet Oppenheim, in an i tasy of modest enthusiasm, as she knelt side Selina and kissed her hand. CHAPTER VL ' WHEN SHALL TOU BE COMING BACK ?' As Vivian Chasemore walked back fron Mr. Farthingale's house in Kensington to hii old lodgings in Drury Lane, he caught him-j self more than once whiiitliag in the gUdaes^ of his hotirt.until he remembered that he wa about to leave his Bohemian life behind himJ I and must drop his Bohemian manners at im THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. S5 it 18 in the fature walked back fron n Kensington to hii ne, he oaaght him! tliag in the gUdaes^ mbered tbat he wa tian life behind hiiBi| dian manaeri at tb le time. The reooUaotioii only made him aiieiw 9 had aooommodated himielf to the •ty he had adopted, bat he had never felt his own iphere since leaving home. The ' inette of the family dinner of the evening fore had revealed to him, as it were in a woe, how much he had wronged himself in lieving that he could give np all theameni* of social life withoat regret. He had his father's house without thought, and been too proud to sue for forgiveness fterwards. The fact is, Vivian had never a happy home. His mother had died ^fly and his father been much away on liffn servioe,during which period the child been left in charge of his grandparents. Peregrine and Li^y Ohasemore. When I was twenty, however, his father, then a leral, had retired from the army, and krried the widow of an old brother officer, flaunting, showy woman, of middle age. was then poor Vivian's miseries began, had been old enough to see all the 9ng that went on under his father's very |res,and too young to tell the old man what fool his new wife was making of him. irrel after quarrel took place between I stepmother and himself, until he told her tnly that her disgraceful conduct was King their name a jest and by-word in neighbourhood, and that he, for one, was ermmed to stand it no longer. [Mrs. Chasemore carried this story, with ly ezagi];erations, to the general, who lered his son to apologise or leave the M. Vivian chose the latter altema^'ve. ran away, then and there, with ten ids in his pocket, and carried a banner ', the stage of old Drury Lane, until his kuts and address gained him the notice of manager of the theatre and a better ftgement; And since tbat time he had Bn aotinsr, here, there, and everywhere, ting chiefly the parts of old men in ly, for which he had a peculiar forte, .that many of his intimate friends had Itched the tottering gait and listened to quavering voice of Alfred Waverley, Wut dreaming that beneath the faloe fore- ',and wrinkles, and orows'-feet, there lay handsome, laughing face of Vivian Bemore. He had laughed more than had felt inoliued to do. His was a ^p/, bouyant temperament that made the It of everything ; but he had had many ply and desolate hours during the term of banishment, in which the whole of life led so dark and hopeless that he ques- sed whether he would not be wiser to end i perplexities -with a dose of prussio acid, that was all over now, he remembered with a joycis laugh, aa he speed alonft from Kensington to Dmry Lane. His dett old grandfather, who had been very fond of him when a little child, but whom he had never oredited with so much partiality since, had left him independent for life. He had nothing to do thenceforward but enjoy himself in the society he liked best, and that, Vivian could not help feeling, would be the society in which he had bMn reared, however grateful he might feel to those who had been his friends in exile. Under the influence of such feelings, it was with a face even more beaming than nsnal that he burst into the little greengrocer's shop (how much smaller and narrower it looked even now than it had done yesterday), where Mrs. Bell, with her work in her hand, was keeping guard behind the counter. ' Ll I Mr. Waverley, sir 1 is it yon T I thought we should see you back again some time to-da^ ; but Bonnie, she's bin fidgeting like anythink over your dinner, and a won- derin' whether you'll take this, or whether you'll take that ; and as I said to 'er, what's the use, when if Mr. Waverley wants any- think, 'e's sure to come 'ome and tell us so himself.' ' Right as usual, Mrs. Bell I For, as it happens, I've only run over for an hour or two, to look after my things, and shall not dine here to-day at all.' ' Going back to your friends, sir, I suppose? Well. I'm glad to hear it, if so be they're good friends to you ; for a young man is beset by temptations in a place like London, and the more respectable people 'e knows the better. That's was i say.' ' Just so, Mrs. Bell i Yes ; my friends have been very kind to me, and I am sure yon will be glad to hear that I've come into a bit of good luck at last.' ' Well, I never i Have you now ; That's ju8t what the little gennelman said yester* day, that he'd good news for you. I 'ope it's money, Mr. Waverley. Money is hevery* think to a young man just startin' in life. 'Yes ; it is money.' ' I am glad ! A nice little sum too, I 'ope. Enough to set you goin' when you takes a wife. ' 'Quite enough and to spare. Though I never mean to be such a fool as to marry, Mrs. Bell.' ' La ! sir, you shouldn't speak in that way of holy matrimony. I can't abear to hear the young people nowadays u-ridicoolin' of marriage as if it 'twasn t nothin'. Why, when I was a gal. I'm sure the first thing we thinked of waf» an 'nsbaud ; and it was " catch who catch can " amongst us, directly a young man made 'is appearance. ' THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL. ' Poor fellow 1 ' Mid Y ivian gravely, m he ■eated himself on the counter; 'bat I ■hoaldn't have minded being caught by you, Mrs. BelL' 'Get along with your nonaenee, eirl What I means is this : all the yotng folk ■eem set against nature nowadays. The men don't want to have wives, and when the sals is married they don't want to 'ave children. Why, it's regular flyin' in the face of Providence. Look at my Bonnie, now. She might marry as nioe a young man to-morrow as ever stepped, but she won't 'ave a word to say to im. ' ' Who's that ? Kit Masters ? ' * Yes, sir ; he's regular in earnest arter 'er, but she slapped his poor face yesterday, BO that you might 'ave 'eard it down at WhitechapeL' Vivian laughed. '# ' Oh, that means nothing, Mrs.' BeU. When girls slap a man's face, they want to be kissed in return. Masters ought to have known that ; he isn't half a sharp fellow.' ' Pr'aps not, sir ; but 'e's got the means to keep 'er well, and pervide for 'er arter I'm Sone, and she's a fool to say " nay " to 'im ; at Bonnie was alwaps a bit daft, you know, Mr. Waverley, and not like other gals.' ' Where is she now, Mrs. Bell ?' ' In your rooms, I think. Seems to me she spends 'alf 'er time a-dustin' of nothin'. She ain't good for much, I know ; and Mas- ters, or any other man that gets 'er, will 'ave a sorry bargain.' ' I dare say Bonnie will come round after a little, Mrs. Bell. I'll talk to her, and see if I cannot persuade her to give Kit Masters a trial' ' Aye, do, Mr. Waverley I She thinks a deal of you, Bonnie doeSj and of what you 8ay,and will take your word afore mine, any. day.' •AU right, I'll try my best,' replied Vi- vian, as he got off the counter and went up- stairs. Bonnie was sweeping the sitting-room, with a duster tied round her head to keep the dust from her hair. She looked very pretty in her homely head-dress, though she blushed scarlet at being discovered so attired, and tried to get rid of it. ' Don't pull it off, Bonnie 1' exclaimed Vi- vian ; ' it looks uncommonly nice and tidy,I «an tell you.' * But I can't go on sweeping while you're here, Mr. Waverley.' ' I don't want yon to do so ; I want you to come and help me turn out my old portman- and the other boxes.' ' La, Mr. Waverley I whatever for ? You're not going away directly, are you T' There was snoh visible disappointment ia| the droop of Bonnie's pretty mouth, a* sh«| put the question, that Vivian was quittl touched. It had not entered into his oalouU.! tions that his stroke of good fortune mishtl {»rove a be a great loss to his humoUl riends. ' Why, what do yon wish me to stay fori Bonnie ? I give you a lot of trouble, you know,! and make a terrible noise ; the house muttl be ever so much quieter when I am away.' ' I never complained of the trouble, sir,'| replied the girl, with downcast eyes. ' Come here, and sit by me, Bonnie, ool the sofa. No ; never mind the duster or the! apron ; 1 want to talk to you. I've lived inl this house on and off, for four yeata, and! you've always been a kind little fnend tome ; and so I thml^ yon will be pleased to hearl of my good fortune : I've had some monejl left me, Bonnie.' I ' 'Ave you, sir ? that is good ! Is it twentjl pounds — or more ? ' I ' It is more than twenty pounds, Bonnie.il great deal. It is enough to enable me to| live comfortably, without doing any work,! I need never run about the country again,! from one theatre to another, as I have Deeil used to do. I can leave the stage altogethei| and settle down where I choose.' Bonnie's face grew radiant. ' Oh ! I am glad, Mr. Waverley ! I truly glad to hear it. And now you nee never spare yourself tobacco or beer again nor fiummat nice for your dinner, like a roa duck, or that. And oh, Mr. Waverley, sir| you'll 'ave curtains up to the bed againal winter, won't yon, to keep out that draugii from the door that used cut so when yoi| 'ad the influenca ? ' ' And when a certain little girl was kind as to hang up her best gown to shiell me from the cdd ! I haven't foirgotten thst[ Bonnie ; and when I get my money yo shall have the prettiest gown that is to I bought, in remembrance of your own go ness.' ' La, sir ! 'twas nothin ', ' replied Bonni^ with a shamed face. ' I'd 'ave done same for any one. ' Vivian perceived that the girl imagina that, fortune or no fortune,he woud oontinij to live on at the greengrocer's shop, and ' wondering how to brei^ the news to her his certain departure. * Well, then, as I am not going to act agsiij you see, all my theatrical dresses will be no further use to me, so I want to pack the up and send them to my friend Mr. Selw]i who has just telegraphed to say he will tstj my engagement at Swansea. That is tl| gentleman who nursed me through the br THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. 27 diMppointmant iol Btty month, m shtl ired into his oalonU.! i;ood fortnne mishtl M to hi* hnmbltl iah me to stay for,! •f tronble,yonknow,l le ; the hoa«e mnstj when I am away.' if the trouble, sir;| wncaat eyes, by me, Bonnie, onl indthe duster or the! > you. I've lived iol for four yeatJ, and! d little fnend tome I 1 be pleased to hearl re had some monejl 8 good ! Is it twentjl ity pounds, Bonnie,i| ;h to enable me to] at doina; any workj ; the country aaain,! •ther, as I have Deeij I the stage altogetheT( I choose.' iiant. r. Waverley 1 I And now you nee >bacco orbeeragaii ur dinner,like a rot , Mr. Waverley, sir! to the bed againif :eep out that draugli led out so when yo^ (in little girl was best gown to shiell aven't forgotten thai get my money y an hotel ! repeated the girl, vaguely ; |wby, sir ? When shall you be coming ito us again ?' |ell,to tell you the truth, Bonnie, ' replied slowly, ' I don't quite think I shall come baok--not to sleep you know* Of oourae I shall come and see you and your grand- mother sometimes ; but I shall hve in bigger rooms than these now, and in a different part of London ; and though I'm very sorry to leave you and Mrs. ^11, who have always been so kind and attentive to me, yet it wouldn't suit my altered circumstances, you see, to keep on these little rooms.' ' Not come back I' said Bonnie, with a half- friehtened stare. Vivian had watched the girl's colour ebb and flow as he spoke to her, and saw that the announcement he had made was anything but a pleasurable one, but he was scarcely pre- pared to meet the livid countenance she turn- ed towards him now. ' Not tu live here,' he repeated kindly j 'bat I shall often see you, dear Bonnie,! hope.' ' He put his hand upon her shoulder aa he spoke, but she shook it off as if it hurt her, and she saw th-vt she w»s shivering violently. ' Bonnie ! Bonnie ! what is the matter 7 What have I said to make you look like this ? he asked as he bent over her. ' Oh, go your ways and don't mind me 1' replied the girl, vehemently ; ' 'T ain't nothin* along of what you've said. It's my poor head aches so terrible I can hardly near myself.' And in illustration of the fact, Bonnie, throwing her apron over her head, burst into a storm of tears and rocked herself backwards and forwards. Vivian kept a small stock of wine in a buffet in his sitting-room. He un- locked it now, and pouring out a glass of sherry, tried to put it to the girl's lips. But she pushed it from her, so that it was spilt upon the carpet; He waited for a lew minutes till her asitation had somewhat sub- sided, and then asked her how she felt. He had not the slightest belief in the headache she had so suddenly conjured up, but con- sidered it quite natural all the same that a pretty girl should crj at the idea of parting with him. ' Shall I call your grandmother, Bonnie ?' 'No, no I let -the old woman be. She'd send me off to bed at obce,and then I couldn't help you with the packing. What more's to go, Mr. Waverley ? The pain's easier now and I can do aU you want for you without no grandmothers.' ' There's nothing more to pack, Bonnie. I have put what I require in my bag ; and what I leave behind I wish you to do exactly as you think best witL But I should like you to take my books and pictures, and the little clock, and anything else about the rooms that belong to me, ana rr THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. i ! keep them for yoar own Mlf» joit in remetn- branae of the years we've passed together, will /ou ?' ' III keep 'em for yon, sir. F'r'aps some day yon may want 'em back again, and then you'll find 'em safe, just as you left 'em in my oare.' 'Thank you, Bonnie, but I would rather Tou consider them yonr own. You will De married some day, and have a nice little house, and they may help to make it pretty. I AM never want them again, my dear. I am richer than yon think.' ' Very, very rich ? ' she said with a sob. * Yes, very rich, compared to what I have been ; and never likely to want any of the old things again.' 'You'll be marryin' some grand lady.' exclaimed Bonnie, with sudden energy. ' I don't think so, Bonnie. I've no wish to marry any body yet awhile. But talking of marriage reminds me of something. What is your objeotion to Kit Masters ?' The girl's eyes blazed. ' Kit Masters 1 Who's bin coupling our nemes before you, Mr. Wavwrley ?' * Your grandmother told me that he had proposed to marry you, but that you refused to nave anything to say to him.' ' Yes ! and allays will.' rejoined Bon* nie. * But how is that ? He is a very respect- able, nice-looking young lellow, and well able to keep you. He's got a horse and oart, and he told me once that his father owned a market garden in Surrey. You might come to be quite a rich woman some day if you marry him, Bonnie ?' * Aye 1 1 might maybe, but I shan't all the same. I hate 'im and all the rest of 'em, and I won't 'ave nothin' to say to 'em.' ' But listen to me, Bonnie ; I want to tell you something. You're a nice little girl, you know,and I should like to see you mar- ried. Your g'-andmother can't live for ever , and you're too pretty and too young to carry on the shop by yourself. . So you ought to f»t a good husband : and from what I hear, think Masters is likely to make you one. ' * Aye ! will he t ' said the girl, indiflfer- ently. * Mrs. Bell says he's very fond of you ; and indeed he told me so himself. And what I mean to do for you is ■'jhis : Ou the day you're married — I don't care to whom, so long as he's a good fellow— I shall give you the entire furniture for a four-roomed house — real good furniture, Bonnie ; and the wedding-gown and bonnet beside ; and the wedding-cake too, if you like — for I shall never forget the many months I've slept un- peipltl der this roof, nor the good honest that have waited on me here.' ' Oh 1 that's wharise, the lawyer was as ignorant as [^e had been advertising >our name and itiou in the papers for two months, lasemore, without success, when, the efore I found you in Drury Lane, I lived a dirty crumpled letter, badly and without signature, informing me I enquired at a certain address I heat news of a iodger who went by the name of Waverley, but answered to your description. We had offered fifty pounds reward for any information leading to yonr discovery, and in this communication it was intimated that if Mr. Waverley proved to be Mr. Chasemore, the writer would apply in person for the reward, and produce a duplicate of the letter in proof oi his iden* tity. Bat he has not appeared yet,' ' He is sure to do so, I suppose T' said Vivian. 'Sure, as that fifty pounds is not to be earned easily every day. ' I am most curious to find out who it is.' * There will be no difficulty, Mr. Chase- more. Of course the money will nut be paid until we have received direct proof of the justice of the claim, with the name and occupation of the applicant.' ' Whoever can it be ?' repeated Vivian, with puzzled brows. CHAPTER VIL WK SHALL NEVER BE MORE THAN ACQUAIN* TANCE8. Regina Nettleship had invited Mrs. Run- ny mede to spend the afternoon with her, in her mamma's apartments, which was a more remarkable occurrence than may at first sight appear to be. For though Mrs. Runnymede had, by reason of many circumstances, been installed chief friend to Lady William, she was the detestation of her daughter. Re* gina was proud and cold, and smarted hourly under the many indignities which their po- verty thrust upon them ; but the worst of all to her was being forced tc endure the com- pany and tamiliarities and obligations of the lady alluded to. Mrs. Runneymede was not their equal in birth or position. She was their superior only by the fact uf hav- inga longer purge and being lavish with her money, and Miss Kettleship hated to see their vases filled with the fiowers she brongbt and to know that when they went out to- gether she paid for their luncheons and cabs, and lent small sums to her mother which were never returned. Yet the buxom Mrs. Runnymede sat in the drawing-room that afternoon by her in- vitation, and Regina was doing her best to make herself agreeable to her. The fact is, it was the third day after the return of Viv ian Chasemore to his family — the day on which Sir Arthur had avowed his intention of making another call upon her — and as the weather was showery, and Lady William was confined to her bedroom with a cold. Miss Nettleship had thought it as well to secure herself against an awkward ' tete-a- 3U THE ROOT OF ALL SVIL, i tete' with the enamonred baronet. She had not told her mother of the terrible mistake she had made ; of the predicament into which she had so nearly fallen ; and which, had Mr. Farthingale's apposite appearance been delayed by ten minutes, might have seriously entangled her with iSir Arthur Chasemore. She knew that the baronet considered she had as good as given her word to marry him ; but Begina remembered with a sigh of relief that she had not so given it, and that it only required a little womanly finesse on her part to be quit of her half-acuompliahed bargain. Still, she did not intend to dismiaa Sir Arthur until she had seen what chanced she might have with his rich cousin ; she was not one to drop the bone for the shadow ; and therefore she felt that, at all hazards, she must avoid being left alone with him to risk a repetition of the scene she had already gone through, until she had finally made up her mind on the subjeec. Whilst she was deliberating whether she should seclude herself for the day in Lady William's bedroom, or run the chance of a cold by walking out in the rain, Mrs. Runny- mede had ' dropped in ' to luncheon, and Regina had made her promise to remain with her for the rest of the day. She even swallowed her disgust at seeing a ' pate de toie gras ' and a basket of flowers and fruit handed out of the cab that conveyed Mrs. Runnymede to their door vfor that lady seldom visited them empty-handed), and praised the viands when they appeared upon the luncheon- table, although she felt as if each mouthful would choke her. Mrs. Runnymede had evidently been handsome in her youth, with a bold, high- coloured beauty which had now degenerated into coarseness. She had large features and large limbs, and was altogether rather oppres- sive in a small room. She dyed |her hair of an auburn colour, and dropped belladonna into her eyes to make them appear still larger than they were by nature, and fancied herself so secure against detection on both points ai to be able openly to remonstrate with Lady William for rouhing the cheeks and blacking the eye-brows of her shaking palsied old head. Mrs. Runnymede always professed to have very weak sight and delicate nerves. The first thing she did on entering a room was to let down the blinds and sit Jis far away from the window as possible, shadmg her eyes with her hands. Some people thought it was the belladonna that made her eyes so bloodshot and watery- looking ; others that is was occasioned by an extra glass of sherry } but Mrs. Runnymede herself peid it was ail the trouble she had gone through and the many tears she had shed, and presumably she knew the truth of the matter. She had one virtue to counteract her foibles : she was very good-natured, at least with those to whom it served her pur- pose to be so. But Regina Nettleshipwonlc^ have raffered less under insults from Mrs. Rnnnymede'i hand than she did under the presents it extended to her, and which, if she refused, her mother accepted instead. \ As the two women sat opposite to each j other in the little drawine-room they formed a striking contrast. Notwithstanding the : summer shower, the temprature was ex- ceedingly warm, and a deeper flush than usual had mounted to the elder lady's oheek. But scarcely any colour illumined Regina's marble face. She looked like an ice-maiden, I with her purely-cut features, and the pale gold hair that was wound in a classical fashion about her head. Her dress — which, except for a littlo fall of lace about the throat and wrists, was perfectly plain — wail only an old white alpaca which had been ( washed till it turned yellow ; but its folds sat upon her lissom figure as if she had been a queen. There was a cold purity and! dignity about all her movemento, and her I very way of speaking, that, from whatever! source it was derived, struck every spectator [ who saw Regina Nettleship for the first time. As she moved slowly and gracefully about! the ill-kept and ill -furnished apartment, she] might have been Semiramis treading the! marble courts of Nineveh, or Zenobia in the! groves of Palmyra, or Cleopatra floating ini her gilded barge on the bosom of the Nile.f And Mrs. Runnymede, notwithstanding her I self-appreciation, recognised the supetiorityj of tone and manner in her young com-f panion, and felt mean and common beside! it. ' Have you not been out at all to-day,| Miss Nettleship ? ' she demanded. (It wail strange that, for all her intimacy at LadjI William's house, she had never yet arrivedl at calling Regina by her Christian name. ) ' Yes ; I went in Kensington Gardens thiil morning, but the wind rose so suddenly ' was obliged to come home. I met with >| curious adventure, too : quite matter for if novel,' said Miss Nettleship, with a smile ; the remembrance. ' What was that ? ' ' I was in the Broad Walk when a gust oil wind suddenly caught me under the hatl The elastic broke, and ofi went my hat halil way to Bayswater 1 I didn't know what oiT earth to do— I couldn't run after it, yoij know, and there it was, scudding before th wind like a hoop. So I turned to a litt' THE BOOT or ALL EVIL. 31 ' Mid Mdd, ' If yooll nm after that hat brinff it baok to me, I'll give yoa a f.' The ohild itared at me like a fool, was JQit going to repeat my offer . a gentleman aprang up from a bench at hand, and aaying " Permit me," Jan all hie might and main after my hat. cannot think how ashamed I felt. I a crowd gathered aronnd me, and made rki upon it. I could have cried with ktion, and if there had been a cab within t, I shonld have cot into it and come • and left the hat behind me.' )h 1 that would have been very foolish, when the gentleman had offered to rer it for you.' il could not endure U> stand there with I bare head and all the canaille staring at However, there was no alternative, it must have been more than ten minutes . I got my hat baok again. ' (What was he like T' The gentlemen ? Oh ! he was young and •looking, I think. But the chief thing »t having restored my property to me, [walked off and left his own behind tow was that f [e had deposited a small parcel on the when he gave chaso to my hat, and he bad disappeared again, one of the ren directed my attention to it. So I it in charge ; but after having walked' Rt the Park for nearly an linur m search without success, I brought it home ime. And now I do not know what on to do with it.' ^on must keep it till the owner claims it how shall I ever find him again ? Bn't know my name, and I don't know I left our address with the park-keeper le he applies to him. *If we hear nu> in a few days, I suppose we must ad- ie it.' lat sort of a parcel is it ? ' (ere it is,' said Kegina, bringing a small, •sealed packet from a side-tMle. ' It rd; but I cannot imMine what it is.' Runnymede pinched the parcel in \ directioB. tell you, my dear I It's jewellery. , I hope not ! I thought it felt like a Seidhtz powders. ' fot a bit of it. That's a Morocco jew- I know the feel of it perfectly. [it's wrapped in white paper too, and No one but chemists and jewellers IX.' That will the poor young man do T In wte to oblige me, he cannot have en- forgotten he had placed the parcel by his ride. Ought we to send a notioe to the polide-station. or an advertisement to the newspapers ? ' ' I should wait a day or two, and see what happens. He will probably advertise for it himself, if the contents are valuable. What was he like T ' You've asked me that question already,' replied Miss Nettleship, coldly. ' I don't look at everybody I may meet in the streets, Mrs. Runnymede.' ' Of course dot t But you mis[ht have observed whether the preserver of your hat was handsome or ugly — a gentleman or a snob.' ' He was a gentleman — I know nothing more,' said Regina, as she deposited the white packet on the side-table again. She did know more. She had seen and observed thatthe stranger was unusually good-looking, and that he cast more than one glance of admiration at herself. But she would have considered it lowering to discuss such topics with Mrs. Runnymede. It was at this juncture that the servant announced Sir Arthur Chasemore, and the baronet entered the room, with visible di8« appointment at not finding Miss Nettleship alone. After the usual greetings from the two ladies, and a polite inquiry after the health of Lady William, Sir Arthur resigned himself to his fate, and sank into a chair to be bored by Mrs. Runnymede. ' And now you must tell us all about your cousin. Sir Arthur,' she exclaimed fervently. ' Everybody in London has heard the news of his return, and is dying to see him. The Stingoes are going to give a party on purpose to introduce him to their friends. And I hear he's staying with those odious Farthinjpdes. Is that the case ! ' ' He did stay with them for one night * Mrs. Runnymede, but he has now removed to his hotel. ' ' Oh, indeed 1 Much to the chagrin of Miss Selina, I dare say. It is easy to guess why old Farthingale was so anxious to invite Mr. Vivian Chassemore to his house.' ' You forget, interposed Regina, loftily, ' who the Farthingales are. I should hardly imagine that in their most excited moments they could seriously contemplate marrying into Sir Arthur's family.' Sir Arthur cast a glance of gratitude towards her. 'Hardly,' he murmured, in a tone of acquiescence. ' I don't think there are any limits to their expectations,' said Mrs. Runnymede. ' Mr. Farthingale thinks his purse is long enough to aoeomplish anything.' 82 TSE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. * Which is only another proof of his own inoompetenoy,' remarked Kegina. ' Did yoa ■ee your ooaiin the other evening, Sir Arthur ?' ' Yes, I dined there I And yesterday I was with him at his hotel* He is very anxious for an introdnotion to you, Miss Nettleship, and I ventured to promise him one. Dia I take too great a liberty T' ' Certainly not 1 Mamma aiid I wish to | know him.' ; ' He said he would meet me here this i afternoon about five o'clock, when I hope to ( have the pleasure of presenting him to you.' { ' Mr. Vivian Chasemore coming here to- day ! exclaimed Mrs. Runny roede. 'Oh, that is delightful ! Why, we are all longing « to see him. Sir Arthur. Why, he is quite the hero of the day, you know. Such a romantic history, and such a lot of money ! Half the 'salons' of London will be open to him.' ' Yes ! he is a lucky fellow, as far as wealth is concerned ; and I trust we shall not find that the calline he was so unfortunately led to adopt, has deteriorated his manners for society. Is there no chance ot my seeing Lady William to-day. Miss Nettleship T' ' Not the slightest, Sir Arthur. Mamma is in bed. She caught a cold coming home the other night from the Stiucoes, I think, and has been poorly ever since. ' I am so grieved to hear it. I particularly wished to see her this afternoon.' ' Can I give her any message frqm you ?' said Regina, pertinaciously keeping her eyes turned away from those of the oaronet. ' Yes ; I should like to send her one, — that is, if you would be so good as to deliver it,' replied Sir Arthur, as he glanced in a peculiar manner towards Mrs. Runnymede. That lady took the hint, and rising from her chair negligently, walked into the next room, which was divided from them by half -closed foldine-doors, saying : ' Did I leave my hand-bag with my bonnet and shawl. Miss Nettleship ? Regina would have rushed after her, under the pretence of affording her assistance, had not Sir Arthur laid a detaining hand upon her arln and drawn her towards the win- dow. ' Forgive me,' he said,' '.but I am longing to speak to you. Do send that woman with some message up to your mother.' But Reginasdrew herself backwards. ' Excuse me, Sir Arthur ; I cannot favou^ one guest at the expense of another. Mrs. Runnymede is spending the day with me, on my own invitation.' ' How unfortunate ! I was in hopes yon would have kept this afternoon for me. But X must look forward to better luck to-mor. row. ' He had taken her left hand in his as lul spoke, and was trying to slip a ring upon I the third finger. Regina snatched it foroiblj | awajr. ' Sir Arthur, what ai-e yon doing? Pray| remember yourself. ' 'It in only a rinff, Regina — a trumpery I thing not worthy of your acceptance ; but! you will wear it, I trust, as a pledge of our) engagement, ubtil 1 can replace it with an-i other. ' ' Oh no, indeed I cannot 1' she whispered,) nervously. ' You cannot ! and why f ' Mamma ^ould not like it. She is verjl particular, aud she knows nothing yet of whatl took place the other day.' ' But you will tell her, will you not T' ' I don't know. I am not sure. ' ' Renoa, there is something beneath sUl this. Why do you speak to me in so strangel a manner ? Have you already regretted thti promise yon made to me the day before! yesterday T' 'I never made promise,' she replied. ' The words you spoke then, and by whicli| you let me to believe that your feelings were] reciprocal to mine.' 'Fray don't talk of it now. Sir Arthuirj You masn't hurry me so; you make nervous, and then I don't know what I say inc.' * I have no wish to hurry you. You sha take your own time for sil things, fia meanwhile accept the ring, if it is only keep in your pocket until you can wear i| before the world.' ' Please don't ask me ! I would rath« not.' ' You are wounding me terribly t' repliu the baronet, as heVeplaoed the ring whena he had taken it. ' I came here with sud different anticipations from these.' * You forget how new the idea is to mel It is too serious a matter to be decided inj moment. I say so for your sake as wel as my own.' ' I thought you had depided ; and there lies my disappointment,' said Sir Arthur, was so happy whilst I was buying that riii{ this moruiug. My cousin was with me, an asked my permission to buy a little sonveoi for you on his own account. I though under the circumstances, there could bei objection to it ; and I believe he made a veij handsome purchase, which I suppose will wasted, like my own. ' ' I can accept nothing from your cousin o the score of being eogaced to you,' repliej Regina. ' I am engaged to no one, THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. 81 Iter lack to*mor> gint^—t^ tramperyl acoeptaooe ; but! as a pledge of out! epUoe it with anf )tl' she whispered, it now, Sir Arthur i I 80 ; you make mil n't know what I ar irry you. You shai:| •or wl thinp;*. om ring, if it is only itil you can wear ij e 1 I would ratha me terribly 1' repli« koed the ring when(J jatne here with aucf Jrom these.' iv the idea is to id«| er to be decided in j )r your sake as wel decided ; and there ,,' said Sir Arthur. wa» buying tihat riij sin was with me, au > buy a little souven account. I thougl les, there could be i )elievehemadeaveg lich I suppose will lur, whatever my preferences may be t I do not iutend to bind myself until 1 I quite sure it is for my own happiness and It of others. Mrs. Runnymecb,' she con- iew she wished she had b»en attired in a luer more worthy of her beauty I for |Da knew she was handsome, and rated one of her personal possessions at its ^est value. 8he gave the washed alpaca lau impatient twitch as the though through her mind. fo more poverty for me,' she said to her* p if it is to be prevented either by fair 'is or foul.' nwhile Sir Arthur, who had gone to lead of the stairs to receive his cousin, ijtered the room, with Vivian Chasemore train. He wished that something had nted his coming. He had talked so ently to him of being engaged to Miss iship. And now he had only just had a hurried whisper to beg Vivian not e any allusion to the relations sup- to be existing between himself and ung lady. right ! ' replied his cousin. ' Fancy 1 , I've lost that bracelet.' baronet elevated his eyebrows, but lay nothing, for they were already in Dm. pss Nettleship, allow me to present Mr. Chasemore to you.' [la rose in her stately manner, and out to salute the stranger with one .o Bt graceful inclinations, when the^tf let. 3 ' Oh ! ' she exclaimed faintly, as she stated at him ; bnd Vivian's first words were : ' We have met before I ' ' Where T' said Sir Arthur, in a tone of astonishment. ' In the Park this mornina, when this young lady lost her hat, and I had the plea* sure of restoring it to her.' ' How very strange I ' rejoined Regina. ' Mrs. Runnymede, \ir. Chasemore is actual* ly the gentleman I spoke to you about, who lan such a distance after my hat in Reusing* ton Gardens to*day.' 'This is a coincidence,' said Mrs. Runny* mede, as she bowed to Vivian. ' I assure you I've heard the whole story, Mr. Chase* more. Miss Nettleship could talk of nothing else when we first met.' Re* 'Oh, and I've got the packet I ' cried gina. ' You left it nu the bench, and I look* ed for you everywhere afterwards without success, so I brought it home with me.' • It is very fortunate,' replied Vivian. ' It was rather an incumbrance in my pocket, and I laid it careleosly beside me whilst I sat down. Do you know I never even remem- bered its existence until I had returned to my hotel, and then I could not recall wher* I had seen it last. It was really most good of you to have taken the trouble to carry it home, MiNS Nettleship I ' ' I could hardly have done less, when it was the politeness with which you ran after my poor hat that had caused your loss. Had I heard nothing from the owner, I intended to advertise the packet. But little did I think that it belonged to Mr. Vivian Chase- more ! ' They were so engrossed with each other, and with recalling the circumstances of their introduction, that they seemed altogether to have forgotten the existence of the baronet, who stood at a little distance, anything but pleased at being so completely left out of the matt«^^r. Regina looked quite animated too ; and Vivian's handsome face was close to hers, as they talked of the gardens and the weather and the hat, and never mentioned his name at all. At last, however, the packet brought it on the tapis. * Let me restore your property to you,' said Miss Nettleship, as she lifted it from the side table and placed it in Vivian's hand. 'The seals are not broken, you see— Mrs. Ruunymede and I have not been tampering with them, although our female curiosity sorely tempted us to do so. ' Mrs. Runnymede was on the tiptoe of expectation to learn what the packet con* tiined, when a message was delivered from Lady William desiring to see her in her bed* I S4 THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL- », and she had no ftltarnatire bat to leare the three yoang i^plti together. ' Will Tdu gr»tify vcar ourioeity now, Min Nettleship,' lud Vivien, extending the iwrcel towards her, ' aiid break the Male for yonreelf t ' ' Oh no 1 1 could not 1;hiDk of doing so. ' * Bat— if yoa will par«lon my preaumptjon and be graciotis enoagh vo back the assertion — it is your property an day, mamma,' aaid Regina. 'A schoolgirl's trinket, that I would not have been seen with on my finger.' ' Ah, my dear, that young man has to be taught his place. Perhaps the leaaon you have given him will be very uaeful. Hia cousin appears to be cast in a totally dlfiisrent mould.' ' He does indeed,' murmured Mnt. Runny* roede. ' Misi Nettleship, this bracelet^ ia most artiatio ! Does it not make yon feel quite miaerable to have refiued itT ' Not when I remember the supposition on which it was bought for me. Pray do it up again very carefully, Mrs. Runnvmude. I expect Mr. (Jhasemore will oall here to- morrow or the next day. ' Tlie Morocco case was returned to ita paper v/rappiogs, and thu sealx secured ua before. Then Mrs. Runuyraede si^ddenfy remembered that she could not stay a niinu(e later, as she had au engagement with Mrs. Maodougal for that very evuuii>g. ' I know the cause of that hasty departure,' said Regina. as their triend turned her back upon them ; ' she wants to tuU the whole atory of 8ir Arthur'a rejection and Mr. Chase- more'a bracelet to that other old acandal* mougei-, the Macdougal of Maodougal.' ' Were you wiae to aay ao much before her?' * I really don't know, and I don't care 1 It ia auru to get round to Selina Farthingale's eara by their meana, and I ahould like her to know that I've refuaed Sir Arthur, be- cause ahe is ao very anxious to get him for heraelf. She may do it now, aud wel- come ! ' ' Ah ! you aee I was right, my dear,' said Lady William, oracularly ; ' and I am thankful you have taken my advice. I tremble to think what might have happened if Mr. Chaaemore 's recovery had been de- layed tor a mouth or two. You might have been married ti) Sir Arthur before he ar- rived.' ' I don't think so. But you mustn't make too sure of Viviau Chaaemore, mamma. All we know ia, that he ia here. He may b« engaged, or even married, for aught we have | heard to the contrary. ' But Lady WilliamV faith was not to be | shaken. ' No, my dear ; no I ' she answered. ' A I married man — or even an engaged man— I would not have brought that bracelet for i| perfect stranger. He would have bee thinking of his house and his furniture audi hia wife^a dreasea instead. Vivian Chase- 1 more ia too extravagant to be anything; but! a bachelor and heartwhole. When did ii<| say he was coming again T ' ' He mentioned no particular time. Eel only aaid he ahould have pleasure in doiogj BO.' ' You must write to him Regina, in mjl name, and aak him to dine with ua odI Thuraday. Farthingale will forward tbij letter, and Meringue can send in the dinner I TBI BOOT or ALL EVIL. taith WM not to be him Regina, in mjl ;o dine *ith us onl e will forward m Bend in the dinuei tmethiag rery simple, yoa know : a roMi loken end e little oyster soap. Yoong •n who oen get everything they went ere rer pertionler ehoat their eetiag. Mr, 3haeemoie has not had titne to make any ieuds in London, end the sooner wp are the field the better. Do yoa uuderstend «er ' Perfectly, mamma I And shall I mention be braoelet ?' I* Yes I say yon will keep it safely for him 11 he comes. 1 dare say he will try and made you to retain it ; but you must re> the offer, at all risks.' *0f course I shall, maroma I Do yori ink I should be so fooliah as to let him k{|ine I accept presents from strangers ? will not even do to let him ■upposu such a ft would be of any value to m«. By the ky, that reminds me that I ou^ht to have [new drees. I really have n«»t a decent le to walk in the par k or anywhere. And I there is one thing above another that |htens rich mon away, it is genteel po- ' Well, well, we will see about that after irsday. I shall be better able to judge what theyoung man's intontioas are lly to be. Write that note, Regina, and id it by to-night's poet. Lay it all on me I I knew his father when a boy, and am lirous to see him in oou8ewn invitation, having left Miss Janet ^nheim at home ' sans ceremonie,' as her advised her to do. Bry deiked like a lily on its straight and slender »m in her plain black dress, just artfully it away to display the moulded throat id rounded arms, and made without any imming, except the soft lace that she ' washed and quilled with her own hands. Dhere had been quite a battle-royal between Ker mother and herself before she descended the drawing-room that evening. Regina lad entered Lady William's bedroom, and letected her in the act of anointing and iwdering her face with even more lavish Bnerosity than usual. Mamma,' the girl exclaimed, ' what an braordinary delusion it is, on your part, to lagine that- you do all you can to ad- ice my prospects in the matrimonial krket ! ' ' What do you mean T ' demanded Lady William, with the powder-puff suspended iu its operations. ' Why, you say you want me to captivate Tivian Ohasemore, and yon are doing the [very thiag to drive him from us.' 'I do not understand you, Regina.' ' Do you think, mamma, that a man who haa spent the last four years of his life npon the stage, and been in the nightly habit of seeing women painted and powdered to their eyes, is likely to appreciate auoh a very bad imitation of the professional process aa you are about to give him ? ' 'Really, Regina, your language to me is unbearable,' cried Lady WUliaim, who was most sensitive on the soore of any allusion being made to her painting propensities, although she * made-up ' so badly that an in- fant might have detected the impoature. * Alter all I have done with you — alter the aaoriticea I have made, and the inoonvenien- ces I have suffered for your sake, to be spoken to in this ooarse manner is too much --quite, quite too much t ' and Lady Wil- liam stuck her powder-puff into her eye, under the mistake that it waa her poket* handkerchief, so overcome was she by the conduct of her d»ught "x*. ' Now, mamma ! don't make a fuss about it I we all know yon paint -who could help knowing it ? — but I wish you'd do it with moderation for this one evening. If year object in asking Mr. Chasemore here is to se- cure him for a son-in-law, I feel quite sure he would prefer to see you as you are, than with any amount of rouge on.' ' Rouge I ' almost screamed Lady William. ' You wicked, cruel girl ! to mention such a thing to me, « hen you know the exteut of what I use is a little violet powder to prevent the spraying of my skin 1 ' Regina did not kuow anything of the kind, but it was to her interest to pretond to do so. ' Of course, uiamma ! But don't put on even the violet powder to-night. I am sure Mr. Chasemore will prefer tiimplicity and ingeniousness to any amount of meretricious attraction.^ It will only be for{a(little,whil«. you know. We can do as we like when mattors are settled, and we see our way more plainly before us.' ' Meretricious ! ' repeated her mother, aa she rose and walked to the washing- stand. 'That I should have lived to hear such a term applied to me by my own flesh and blood. Will that please you. Miss Nettle- ship 7 ' she continued viciously, as she sponged every remnant of rouge and powder from her face with warm water and dried it carefully with the towel. ' Oh yes, mamma 1 You look ten times nicer now,' replied Regina, complacently as she regarded the renoution of her own fair neck &nd arms in the lookiug-glubs. Poor Lady William's skin was like a wrinkled glove now that the creases were no longer tilled with paste and powder, and ■M THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL. I'i yet it ii doubtful if her daufihter'i words were not true. Old tfte. however ugly, ii »Iwayi rendered worae by ^^hoae Artitioial adoromente which even the sinootheit ileah can soaroely bear with impunity. Regioa greatly preferred ihat her mother ahould appear like a yellow mummy to Vivian Ohaaemore, than with white and red cheeks. She was not afraid of any unfavourable oomparisona being established between them, for she did not resemble her maternal parent in any degree, but took after her fair Kaired, handsome, roUiokiuK father, who had rua through his constitution and his patrimony in the tirst few years of marrii^d life, and left his widow {^nd child to dra^ through Ihe world as best they might, on the sii.all pittance which had formed his wife's settlement. Reginft may have been contented, there- fore, out Lady William was anything but pleued. He daughter was subjected to a very severe lecture on ingrutitude and want of nlial respect before she ^as permitted to deioend to the drawing-room, and it was only the opportune arrival of Vivian Chase- more's cat) tht enabled her to effect her escape. But she exhibited no traced of the warfare she had passed through as she wel- comed him, calmly and gracefully, to her mother's dwelling. To Vivian, who had been thrown so much amongst a class in* ferior to hia own, she appeared the very in- carnation of good breeding and birth. It has been already said that this young man had never felt himself at home iu the pro- fession he had adopted for hia support. Hd had been born for better things. AlthiiUgh he was headstrong, impulaive and passionate he was not intended by nature for disaipa* tion in any of ita lower forms. Coaraeneas. ribaldry, and debauchery he revolted from, and intimate aaaociation with hia ir'eriors however good and kind they might be, had never had the v>ower to please him. He could be grateful to them for their goodness — he often had been — yet he snrauk from their in^vuiate society. Consequently, he had lived much alone, with leisure to nurse hia own dreams of a future which he had never expected to see realised. He had been too young when he left his home to know much about women. Tbose whom he had seen since had not, as a I ule, realised his conceptions of what the sex should be. There are women upon the stage at the present day who are ladies both by birth and education, but they are few and {at between, and keep much to themselves, jealously guarded by their mothers or their husbands. With such, Vivian had not had the good fortune to be associated ; and the iris who had played upou the stage witli | im, and hung about the green-rooms, talk- ing, laughing, and flirting with half-a-dozen | different men every evening, had lowered, j rather than raised, his ideal of womanhood, ludeed, at the moment that Mr. Farthingale I had surprised him upon the tirst floor of Mra, Bell's apartments Vivian had begun to look upon tne other ses not as inferior to hii| ow:, perhaps, but certainly as upon some- tuiug that had been created to be petted and I carsessed when good, and taken to task when naughty, aud never to be held aocouutable j for the execution of and folly when left to iti | own devices. Upon such a m«n, accustomed to the I sound of bad grammar, and sometimes bad! words— to the sight of false hair, painted! lips, and flaunting finery, the appearance of I Itiagina Nettleship had much the same effect I as the pure cool dew of morning might have! had after a nighl of bad gas, bad liquor, and [ dirty cards. She looked so reticent and modest as shA| tendered him her hand. Her pale clear com- 1 plexiou had surely never known the use of i rouge or powder , indeed, he doubted if she I was ever acquainted with the name of thoBel odious cosmetics. Regina knew them w«ll! enough, as we are aware, and had used them| too, bometimes — just- a ' soupgon ' at the openl or at an evening party, to heighten theeffeatl of her eyes — but she always did it so delicate>| ly that she defied detection, and had never! admitted the fact even to her mamma. Then, her dress was so neat and simple^! without a single ribbon or flower ; and herf pale gold hair was so exquisitely arranged,! like the classic heads of !:*ie Olympian god-l desses. Vivian only saw the outside of MiHl ^lettleship, and he gave her credit for po»| sessing all the good qualities whicn her er[ terior seemed to indicate. Even Lady Wil liam's palsied and forbidding countenance! was powerless to detract from her daughter'*! charms. He saw how unlike they wers, andf felt no fear that Rec,'ina''8 old age should ii| anywise resemble her mother's. He pas what seemed a delightful evening with hii new acquaintances. The dinner was ver simple, but everything was well cooked and no apology (that most certain sign want of good breeding) was - made for the! poverty of the poverty of the repast. A feiri flowers bloomedin a bowl in the centre of th table, and as they left it Kegina took a dt mask rose and fastened it into the front of hei dress. How it scented the atmosphere as ilT nestled amongst the hice that encircled hetj throat, and fell and rnse with the pulsations o her snowy bosom, as Vivian sat cloHe b< no| after dinner and talked about his past life.! THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL 41 )u the sUge witb greea-roomSi talk- with haH-a*duzeD ling, h»d lowered,] eaf of womanhood. «t Mr. Farthingale he tirat floor of Mrs, had begun to look b as inferior to hii| inly aa upon aome- ;ed"to be petted and I taken to task when le held acoouctable folly when left to its I aooustotned to the! and sometimea bad! false hair, painted I \f, the appearance oi I ftuoh the same eflfectl morning might have I gas, bad liquor, and it and modest as slw Her pale clear com I ir known the use of id, he doubted if she th the name of those zina knew them well e, and had used theml • soupgoa ' at the open to heighten theeffeat [ways did it so delicate- ition, and had neveri to her mamma, ras so neat and simple,! ,n or flower ; and herj exquisitely arranged, f ••■he Olympian god aw the outside of Min (re her credit for poa- lalities whioii hbr ei fcte. Even Lady W:l- orbidding countenand jot from her daughteri unlike they wero, and la's old age should it mother's. He passed itful evening with hul The dinner was vei- ,ng was well cookef ; most certain sign ,g) was made for the| y of the repast. Afe«| owl in the centre of tl if t it Kegina took a dj d it into the front of h« ad the atmosphere as itl luce that encircled he] le with the pulsations ofl Vivian sat clone b' n"'! led about his past m\ ly William had been wise eaoaah to : the Macdongal to join their party K>r ih« Bsaw that without some 4Uoh aid Regina lid be unable to say a word alone Mr. Chaaemore, and she trusted to her ightei-'s strategy too well not to know kt, giveu the opportunity, she would make use of it. The Macdongal, although y^ of Lady William's bitterest foes behind |r back, was, after the fashion of female mds in this dear innocent city of London, too ready to eat her dinners or suppers she had nothing better in prospect. {ihe old women retreated to the back ing-room to talk such scandal as might good to them, whilst Vivian and Uegina juced themselves in two low chairs at lopeu window in front, and looked through [lace curtains at the crrriages and pedss- IB still lineering iu the Park. {Sensible people,' quoth Vivian, ' to be enough to enjoy the best part of the instead of shutting themselves up in [ rooms or hotter theatres oii Huch a warm It as this. Do you not thiok so, Miss leship T* yes I I perfectly agree with yon,' led Regina. (No one cared less for Itingales and moonshiue than she did, or ~ crowded rooms and nmall talk more., It would have been very bad generalship sy so.) 'If I had a carriage,' with a I laugh at the absurdity of the idea, 'I ]d use it to drive away into the beautiful |try, and see the fields and ths flowers, 'le dear little cottage children. ' [on love the country, then ?* yes, I think so. I have never lived |rou know,' said Regina, with a sudden iment, in case Mr. Chaaemore had a aversir n in that direction. ' My ipapa, Lord Mudford, has a beautiful in Gloucestershire. I believe it is a paradise, but va have nothing to do lat, you dee. Poor papa waa only the Cion. It was h?>.rdly to be supposed he Ibe rich.* leed no ! -With your simple tastes, iettleship, I suppose it is useless to if you care for the theatre ?' she wished an ange! would suddenly i^^and reveal to her what he thought subjent himself. He would hardly lopted the stage if he had not liked pfessiou.but at the same time he might )wn heartily sick of everything con- with it. She felt comp^rslled in betting je, to ' hedge ' — and no one could do ire naturally than Regina Nettle- entirely depends upon the actors, semore, and the play. ' ' True ; but yon have the beat talent at your very doors in London. ' * Yet we go so seldom that perhaps I hav* not had sufficient experience to be able to indge of my own feelings on the subject, Mamma is a great invalid, you know ' (she could not possibly err in making a point of fllial duty, Regina thought) ; ' and of courae I never leave her. But I have spent Home very pleasant evenings at the theatre, with friends whom I likecL Everything depends so much on the people you are with, does it not?' ' Indeed it does. Rut I feel sure your intellect must respond to the expositions of some of the great actors and actresses we have upon the stage at present. To Irving f>r instance, and Ellen Terry, antl the Kendals and Bancrx>fts. I could name » dozen others, but 1 think the art of these very womanly women must appeal forcibly to their own sex. ' j ' Oh yes. But is not the reason of that because they chose such sweet and innocent parts, and act them so naturally that they appear like nature? Which brings us back to my first conclusion, that the ^st part of life must be that which is natural and gcod ; and therefore the flowers and sunshine and the birds and child>'en appeal to the higheat senses which we possess.' Vivian was enchanted with this speech, although it did not entirely coincide with his own sentiments. He had never lieard any- thing like it from the lips of a woman before, and it expressed the very feelings that he associated with innocence and purity, dow could he tell that in poc r Bonnie's rou' b, un- tutored mind there existed higher ard purer ideas than had ever entered (or ever would enter) iuto that of Rt:f{ica Netuieahip ? He looked at the delicately-cut features, at the shapely outline. He listened to the softly, eon n elated syllables — the perfect pronuncia* tion, I'ud he lelieved, without a single doubt, that the spe'^ker's words were but a reflection of her 30ul. In he the flrst man who has been ent'apped bv similar means to mistake coldness for purity, and e.^lf-command for want of guile ? He left the little house in Knightsbridge that evening, fully persuaded that Misa Nbttleship was one of the most charming women he had ever met, and his cousin the nnluckiest of men. Not that be was iu the least surprised, now that he had talked fami* liarly with her, that she had rejected the idea of being Sir Arthur's wife with scorn . She was a thousand times too good for him ; Arthur was not intellectual He had the most commonplace ideas on all subjects ; and was it likely that a girl like Regina Nettle* 'd^!^'-'i ■MPiP 42 THE ROOr OF ALL EVIL. ■hip, who lived in « beaatifal world of her owo, far above the sordid everyday lives of her mercenary fellow-creatures, should have stooped to assimilate herself with a a,xa who thouf(ht of little else but his dinner and his clothes. She had hinted as much to Vivian in the most delicate manner in the world, as ■he placed the parcel containing the bracelet in his hand. * This unlucky bracelet i he had exclaimed on tnac occasion ' How I wish I had lost it altogether I It reminds me of the disoom- finture of our trrst meeting. What a fool I must have looked in your eyes. Miss Nettle- ■hip?' ' Oh, pray don't say that ! The mistake was uufortunate, I own ; but I shall never forget the gouerosity which prompted you to please Sir Arthur by the purchase.' * He entirely misled me.' .' He did mdeed 1 And he entirely misled himself into tlie bargain.' 'I suppose his wish was father to the thought, returned Vivian, with &n upward glance ; ' and I do not wonder at it. Poor wretch ! be has paid dearly for his presump. tiou.' ' Mr. Chasemore, 1 want you to believe that itwaspresumptioUf'said Retina, sweetly. ' I should not have mentioned the subject, if you had not introduced it ; but since you have, let me tell you that Sir Arthur had no reason to believe I should accept his offer. He thought doubtless that he was too good a match for a penniless girl to refuse ; but he did not know that ' ' W hat is that he did not know ?' demand- ed Vivian, with interest. ' That I look tor something higher in marriage that for a man to feed me and clothe me and keep a roof over my head. Sir Arthur is very good-looking and pleasant; but my iusband (if I ever have one) must be my intellectual superior as well as my friend.' 'That is just it,' Vivian thought, as he ■trolled homeward to his hotel. ' Arthur is not half good enough for a girl like that I She wants a man who is well-read and well- informed, and has sufficient brain to appreciate his own education. Arthur is wrapped up in his law-books, and is about as prosaic as a creature can well be. He has not the least atom of poetry in his composition. He would have wearied a girl with Miss Nettle- ■hip's tastes in a month. ' And without exactly deciding ihat his own liking for those subjects on which his cousin fell short would render him a more desirable companion in Begina's eyes, Mr. Vivian Cliasemore was certainly bettei inclined to- wards himself and life in general, as he turned into bed that ni((ht, than h« had for some time previously. He had not left Lad;^ William and daughter without receiving a cordial inviti tion from the elder lady to come and them again. He reminded her so pleasanti she averred, of his poor dear father, who I been a flame of hers in her maiden days ; i that she had never seen General Ohasemo during her lifetime, and that Vivian did i in the slightest degree resemble him,was otj the least obstacle to the interchange of cun pliments between these two worldliujji Vivian was flattered by the interest show in him by both ladies, and pleased secure the opportunity of seeing more of tij Jrounger one. Her statuesque and passioi ess beauty had first attracted him ; reserved and apparently uiiapproachalj manner drew him on still further, and idea of succeediog where Sir Arthur failed was no slight element in strengthen his wish to improve the acquaintance. HJ many of us, I wonder, value our vioMa solely on account of the honour we gaiu I them 7 How many would struggle to a ceed, unless a crowa stood by to cheer conqueror, and one or two hearts were iiJij with bitter envy at our success 7 Vivian i no better and no worse than the rest of world. He took a wicked pleasure in letti his cousin know, in a casual manner, boj man}' times in the week he had been at ] William's apartments, or accompanied i ladies in their afternoon drive in a brougham which was occasionally hired f their convenience. ' Oh, you are keeping up that acquaint then 1' Sir Arthur had onod remarked >| apparent indiilereuce, though in rea.lity «| jealous heartburning, as he listened f Vivian'fi acuount of an evening spent Lady WUliam and her daughter at Italian Opera, although the latter forgot| add that he had presented the box for acceptance. •Yes I W^hy should I not?' replied! cousin, in much the same words as he f answered the same query on the day ofl Arthur's rejection. ' You are not fiuch i| in the manger, my dear fellow, isurely, i object to mj' knowing your friends you happen to have dropped them 1 don't you go tb| r dear fellow, surely, ring your friends V' re dropped them 1 e youraelf sometiiaetl lat Regina— I mean I I you no enmity. Shet ,alth, and, if I temd f you made that unf ortuj B said she hoped you "^ ends.' re say 1 Be fnends Minso disgraceful si I suppose she wants to whistle mo w again, now that I am gone 1 But she lold hare taken the ohauoe whilst it was in power. I shall not visit there again in a ''It's your loss,' replied Vivian coolly, liough he felc very much inclined to give Arthur a piece of his mind, on the bject. 'But as for wishing to "whistle ^a back," that's all nonsense. Miss Nettle- ip refused your advances most decidedly, H in 'my presence. There is no getting i of that. Besides, it is rumoured all over I that you are paying your addressoN to J Farthingale. Haven't you heard it ? ' [Keither heard it, nor done it, nor mean lo it ; so you may contradict the report lever it reaches you. Seliua Farthiu- indeed 1 A beetle-browed old maid a yellow skin i Thank you for the ipliment, Vivian , but I hope I've got her better taste than that.' j Oh, my dear fellow, I'm not answerable ' the treason I ' cried his cousin, laughing. have thought old Farthingale's money - 1 might have some attraction for you; if they were inseparably coupled with I beetle-browed daughter — the gilding to [black pill — ' que voudries-vous ? ' A man ametimes left no choice in these matters. '[ the bags would have to be hlled to the ly brim forme.' "There is no truth whatever in the story,' '•ated Sir Arthur, ' though the money lid be acceptable enough. But the lady "pt to my taste..' ' I might have added that the hopes he entertained with regard to Regina ilwhip had rendered Miss Farthingale i more displeasing to him th«n she would brwiae havp bco;*. But some intuition le him hold his tongue. He had already m to suspect that Vivian might end by ng the citadel which had refused to sue- b to him. And the thought m«>de him 'bitter. |or one- two months Vivian Chasemore iued to come and go at Lady William Veship's. He was acquainted by that |with numerous good families, and was ^come guest at many houses. The had opened their hospitable doors Mrs. Macdougal of Maodougal had red him out of more than one dinner; the hingales had ' feted ' the righ^ul heir ; fttie smaller fry of Kunnymedes and lites of that kin had worshipped the lid he trod on. He was member of two ree fashionable clubs ; had a smart set tmbers and a • valet-dechambre ' in the By ; and drove apair of the handsomest tuts in town. The season ran on, with I its wealth of dinners, suppers, balls, and card-parties ; yet, though Vivian was over* whelmed with invitations of all sorto, and had scarcely a spare moment to call his « wn, very few afternoons passed without his find* ing the time to call at the little house in Knightabridge, if it were only to leave a bou- quet of flowers or a couple of stalls fur the opera, or to inquire after the health of Ludy William and her daughter. On several e ven* ings he presented himself at their rooms, modestly thoush without invitation, to crave permission to seek refuge from the glare and the bustle of his outside life in the cool and the shade of the lace-curtained drawing-room. And those evenings were always tptut close by Regina's side — sometimes ' tute-a-tete ' with her — diicussiug their mutual tastes, so- cial and intellectuM, and finding with each fresh interview how marvellously well their views agreed upon every topic of importance. All this familiar intercourse and interchange of thought had its due effect upon an impres- sionable young man of iive-aud-twenty, who was free to make his choice in marriage, and indulge it as soon as convenient. So that to* wards the close of the London season and just as Lady William was wondering whether it was not her duty as a mother to give Vivian Chasemore a lift over the carrier of uncertainty which stood between him- self and her dauehter, she was not in the least surprised, though very much gratified, to hear Regina say, as if it were the most unimportant thing in the world : ' It is all right, mamma 1 He proposed this evening, and we intend to be married the first week in September.' CHAPTER X. 'SKTTLBHINTS.' Regina had conveyed this piece of news to her mother's bedroom, whither Lady William had retired rather earlier than usual, leaving ber daughter to make the last adieux to Mr. Vivian Chasemore under the romantic covei of the moonlighted balcony . She had never been effusive in her demonstrations of affeo* tion for Regina, but the knowledge that she stood on the threshold of becoming the pos- sessor of fifty thousand pounds was too much for Lady William's maternal feelings. ' Oh, my precious child 1' she exclaimed. ' My sweet, sweet girl 1 is it really^ the case T Of course I knew It must be coming ;,but to hear that you and dear Mr. Chasemore have arrived at an understanding at last,ia indeed good news. And to be married in Septem* ber, too ; scarcely a month hence I And naturally he will make ahandsome settlement y 44 THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. upon yon. It would be aa uaheard of thing if he did not. ' Regina utood by the dresiing-table whilst her mother was pouring these congratulations upon her, with something very like a sneer upon her face. She loved money and the luxuries it procured for their own sake, but ■he d«spised the proffers of affection and friendship whish she had known beforehand would spring np in every direction as soon as she obtained it. ' Do you think it likely, miinma, that as soon as the man asked me to be his wife, I sprang at him to ascertain what settlement hu intended to make? Of course Mr. Chasemore will du all that is necessary or usual on such occasions ; but I should be a fool to make him cry off his liargaiu by. ap- pearing too eager and grasping.' ' WeU, perhaps you are right, Regina. You are a very sensible girl, my dear, and a great credit to yonr mother's rearing. But now tell me all about it : what he said, and how he looked, and the answer you gave him.' * He said very little, and he looked much the same as usual, and I answered " Yes." ' ' Really, Retina, you are enough to pro- Toke a saint ! My only child, too, and when you must know how anxious I feel. ' ' Well, mamma ! I suppose I must indulge your feminine curiosity. We were standmK by the window together when the elastic that strings my jet bracelet broke — in fact, to tell you the truth, I broke it on purpose, to give him the opportunity to fasten it round my arm again. He's absurdly bash- ful.' Yes— yes,, dear ! I quite understand ! go on!' cried Lady William, eagerly. 'He picked up the beads, and I restrung them, and I asked him to tie thorn on. He. held my wrist in his hnnd for a moment, and said he wished he could see the bracelet he kad bought for me on it. 1 replied that that was quite impossible, and you would never allow me to accept so handsome a present from any gentleman — unless he were ray fianuoe. Then all the rest came easy, you know.' • Of course, but.let me hear it, dear. ' ' How childish > ou are, mamma. A baby might guess what followed. He asked mo if I would take it from my fiancee -if I would take it from him l I replied, "But we are not fiancees, Mr. Chasemore ;" and he said, " Let us be so then, Regina — make me happy. Say you will be my wife. " Then the usual oemnonies followed, you know. I let him ask nio three or four times before I answered "Yes," aud then he kissed me three or four times, and pestered me to uime a day ; so I fixed the 8th of September, whid will give me nearly a month to get my thiaJ ready in, and he talked all sorts of nensenitj and then he went away. And that is thi beginning and the end of the whole aff urj concluded Miss Nettleship, aa she fluni herself into a chair and yawned, as if it hi wearied her. It was quiie evident that her heart w» not the chief thin;^ concerned in the engaf(«; ment she had just entered into. Uow manrl hearts go,up.to the marriage altar with tho white satin-encased and lace-beshroude figures ? Not many, I fear, in this degrade age of barter, when the term of ' holy matril mony ' has become a mockery o' the 8ham4 less open sales of bodies and souls that tab place under the sanction of the Church. 'The 8th of .September,' repeated Lad]] William, her matronly mind running on tl chief busines!',in fljmother's eyea,of awed'lii namely the trousseau. * That is a very ahorj time to get your things in— and, oh dears wherever am I to find the money to bap them? I really think your grandfathq might help us at a crisis like this. Do yo think I could venture to write to him Regina It would be no use appealing to your uacl^ the marquis, he is so horribly stingy ; bm' Lord Charles might give something towar your outfit. He married a rich stockbroker' daughter, you know, a woman with no eu of money, and I do not suppose that would feel the loss of a few hundred poundtl ' Mamma ! I will not have you write ii any one of them. They have always treatei us shamefully, and I would rather bemarrie in a print dress than owe a halfpenny to tb« bounty.' ' ' It is all very well for you to say tha^ Regina, but how am I to get a trousse without help ? ' *Yon must do as others do; I snppo Get the things on credit, and pay off by dtj grees. You will be relieved of the expen of keepins; me, remember.' ' Yes, yes, Re;^ina ! You are very eleverj of course that will be the way,' acquiescaT Lady William, suddenly remembering th^ when her daughter was once Mrs. Chasemoi it would not be difficult to get Vivian to hi her to pay off debts incurred for his wifel clothes. ' We must begin to see about the t :)-morrow, my dear. A month is no timeil which to get a trousseau ready, and Madam Helene always keeps your dresses for long ! How astonished the Stingoes will to hear the news, and the Farthingales I wonder if old Farthingale had any idea^ getting him for Selina? If so, they willi terribly disappointed. Shall you write atj JTHE ROOT OF ALL EVn* that her heart w* lernud in the engafid ed iuto. How minti riage altar with tho.., . ind lace-beshroudeclj fear, in this degrade > term of ' holy tnatri Mskery o' the shaniM s and aoula that tak n of the Church, ober,' repeated Ladi mind running on tl er'seyei.of awed'Hi * That is a very ahoH ga in— and, oh dearl I the money to ba^ ok your grandfathel is like this. Do yof » write to him Begina lealing to your unclj horribly stingy ; bo' ve somethiojK toward ed a rich stockbroker! i woman with no en lot suppose that few hundred pound )t have you write ly have always treata ould rather be marrie Ne a halfpenny to tb« You are very eleverl the way,' acquiesc/ oly remembering thil a once Mrs. ChasenKJ It to get Vivian to W ncurred for his mU] egin to see about the A nionth is no time il kU ready, and Madani . your dresses for ij id the Stingoes will the Farthingales tc ingale had any idea* If so, they willi Shall you write ad iao« your engagement to them, or trvet rir hearing it by ohanoe ?' don't care which I do ; but we may at {let them hear it for themselvea. I don't i them to think I am too eager in the »r, and Virian is sure to tell bis cousin, krthur, the first thing.' Lh, my dear ! what a pity it is that you In't have had both tne title and the sy. You ought to have been " my lady," la. I should have died the easier if I havhe eard you called so. ' ^ell, it has never brought yon much mamma, that I can see,' was the _ lady's reply, as she took her oandle- I and walked off to bed. was mistaken in thinking that Sir Ar- Jwas the first person to whom his cousin Id communicate the stroke of good fortune Tbad befallen him. Vivian was more shy Dling his engagement to Sir Arthur than |ty one. He had already supplanted him in Srandfather's yrill — he had now won for f the woman whom his cousin had sd to make his wife - and he felt for his ^e disappointment, and was proportion- ^delicate in forcing the truth upon his But he took an early opportunity of king the news to the Farthingales, who of course delighted to hear it, and ly sincere in their congratulations, had never entertained any hopes sting Vivian Chasemore : had not ' to entertain any. Her heart — such iras — was fixed upon the baronet, and Ival she had most dreaded was Regina "ahip. To hear that she would so soon ly disposed of was the best news in i>rld, and she flew at Sir Arthur with ktelligence on the very first occasion of tmeeting. |on must let me congratulate you, dear rthur — you must let us all congratulate Dn the very happy news of your cousin's sment to Miss Nettleship. She is such Itiful, elegant creature ! they will make I handsome couple. What a pity they not have been married during the I expect half London would have the church only to look at them !' Il^rthur was staggered by this intelli- but he showed no further signs of than were conveyed by his turning le and suddenly taking a seat. He If feared that Vivian's constant visits Nettteships might end in a mutual itauding, but it was a great ahock to hear it had oome to pass so soon and sctedly. ( you sure your information is correct, Farthingale ?' he stammered. ' I saw my ooasin yesterday, and he never mentioned the circumstance to me.' ' How very strange ! His engagement must have turned his brain ! Oh yes, it is certainly true. Sir Arthur, for Mr. Chasemore told us so himself ; and I had a note from Regiaa this morning, in answer to one from me, in which sne says she is to be married the second week in September. If you will excuse me for one moment I wUl show it you, I left it on my toilet cushion;' and away tnpped Selina Farthingale, to give the unfortunate barouet time to recover himself. She could not help seeing the effect the news had had upon him, and inwardly re- joiced to think that at least this must put an end to his folly, and leave the field open to nerself. Sir Arthur, left alone, rose from his obair, and having passed his handkerchief across his brow, paced up and down the room three or four times in quok succession. ' Going to marry him ! ' he thought, »^ he did so — ' going to marry him I Curse wnem both 1 First, the money — now, the woman I He walks over the course in everything. And she too I false, black-hearted little jade. She threw me over for him,aud nothing else. Had his return been delayed «welve hours longer, she would have been engaged to me. Yet where would have been the use T A woman who could go as far as she did, ai.d then deny her own words, would have no hesitation in breaking an engagement, er a marriage either for the matter of that. May ill-fortune follow them both to the end of tneir days, and may my turn to laugh come yet ! That is the best wish I shall have for Mr. and Mrs. Vivian Chasemore on their wedding-day. ' He was interrupted in his reverie by the sound of a soft cough from one of the re* cesses near tne windows, and turning sad- denly encountered the modest figure and droopins; glance of Miss Janet Oppenheim. The baronet grew red at the discovery. JS „ one could have read his unspoken thoughts, but it n.u8t have been easy to connect his restless movements with the intelligence his hostess had communicated to him. 'Forgive me, Miss Oppenheim,' he murmured ; • I believed myself to be alone. But I need not conceal from yon I am rather annoyed that my cousin should have left the new:; of his intended marriage to be told me by a stranger. ' ' I think it was most inconsiderate of him. Sir Arthur— m»y I say, ungrateful 1 Miss Farthingale has only dropped a word before me here and there, but I have heard suffi- cient to appreciate the noble generosity with which you welcomed Mr. Chasemore to his 46 THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL. home mgtin, and th« mauM mdm he hM ozhi' bited for yonr forbearauoe.' Hia conduot had nerer yet stniok the bar- onet in this light, but now that it was placed before him, he law plainly what a aaoritioe he had made on Vivian's behalf, and felt grate- ful to the person who had opened his eyes to his own beneficence. 'Indeed, Miss Oppenheim, yon rate my conduct too highly . I have only done what I thought to be my duty. But my oouaiu might have prepared me for this. He has always insisted to me that he was not a marrying man, and although his intentions in this respect could have made no difference to me, one does not care to be taken by sur- prise in this humdrum jog-trot world.' " May not Mr. Chasemore have had some ulterior motives for keeping his engagement a secret?' demanded his fair companion, with the shortdst possible glance from her feline eyes ; ' perhaps the young lady felt, as she ought to feel, too much ashamed of her choice to wish it made public sooner than was necessary.' 'Is it possible you can have heard! ^^-«om- menced the baronet anxiously. ' That you once conteiiplated doing Miss Nettleship the honour of ' making her your wife, Sir Arthur,' rejoined Miss Oppenheim, with a low silvery laugh, • Why her folly was the talk of the town! Indeed, ^onr great generosity in this, Pj ia other thmgs, is not unknown to your acquaintances, only we cannot add that it has been unre* warded.' You think her unworthy, then T' ' Unworthy of that !' repeated Miss Op- penheim, with a world of emphasis upon the preposition. 'Oh, Sir Arthur! you are strangely blind to your own merits and the shortcomings of others ! However one may blame Miss Nettleship, one cannot but con gratulate you !' ' £ dare say you are right,' he said with a sigh ; ' I had almost arrived at the same concluaior myself. But I have been a very unfortuna ^e man lately, and I think fate must be against me.' * I should have said you were one of the most favoured of mortals,' replied Miss Oppenheim, always with the same air of self -depreciation ; ' but doubtless we argue on different premises. ' 'I do not understand your meaning.' ' You think of what you have lost in others,' said the young lady, * and I, of what others gain in you.' He was just considering what a sweet sympathising little creature she was, and whether he might venture to toll her so, when the door opened to re-admit Minj Farthingale. ' Here is Regina's noto, she exclaimed ;| 'so now you can read it. Sir Arthur, and! convince yourself that my information wh| correct.' ' I never had the least doubt of yonr word,'! he replied, as she glanced at the lettor ihi| handed him. ' There it is plain enough, you see.'ihtl continued volubly. They are to be mari ried on the 8th of September and to paMl the winter in Rome. I wonder what oIm Lady William will, do without her daughterj She will be dull enough in lodgings ul hi Sir Arthur returned the noto without codJ ment. ' You don't look over-pleased about it,| said Selina,for she was jealous and angry the manner in which he had taken tb news, and could not resist lettingfhim knoJ that she had perceieyd it« 'Don't youcoi( aider the match good enough for Mr. Cha more?' ' Vivian has money and can afford please himself. Miss Farthingale. I h«vi nothing to do with his matrimonial fairs.' ' Perhaps you are afraid Regina will ni make him a good wife. She is a dreadff flirt, you know I I have heard her talked ( myself, with at least half-a-dozen men thj season.' ^, . ' Then I trust, as she is so soon to connected with me by marriage, Miss F^ thingale, that you will cont-radict the repoj whenever you may hear them,' replied; Arthur, as he took up hia hat and bowj himself gravely out of the room. Selisi coarse sympathy, which took the fortn] abuse of hec rival, annoyed him. He not aeemed to mind Janet Oppenhiem n^ tioning'the subject of his rejection, but fn the lips of Selina Farthingale he felt| \yould be unreliable. And he owed Viri no less a grudge for the secrecy he maintained towards him, that ithadsubjed him to hear the news from the lips of j lawyer's daughter. When the cousins next met, it was ^ coldly, at all events on the baronet's and not many minutes had elapsed be| the subject that was irritatii'^ him contl the surface. ^' I should have thought that it was stij due to me, as head of the family, to be| first informed of the change in yourprosp Vivian.' 'Well, look here, i^ld fellow,' replied! other, in his frank, ei'.sy manner : ' if I| engaged myself to ai.ybody else, it '"^T^Tl^ THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. 47 to re-admit Mwl he note without cool next met, it waai m on the baronet si atea had elaP»«*^% irritatin'^ hitu conwl .ought that it WW atll ^ o! the family, to Wl .change in yourprosp* [been different ; hot, hang it all i y6u after what had paased between yon ef(ina, I did feel a little modest aboot iff and nonaenae I' rejoined Sir Arthar . that yon will, at all events, let that i drop for the future. Granted that I , and admired her, your own taste haa mine ; but beyond that, my dear matters never w«at : and you must my word for it that I would have SB altered from what it now is, for the a're a real good fellow!' exclaimed , heartily ; ' and wherever I may be, ^ always be a knife and fork for you at ble, Arthur. Don't forget that ! And rhen will you come round with me and ^na again ? I know she'll be pleased ^ke hands with you ; and we are to be 1 in ten days, you know. You will be st man, won't yon ?' 1th pleasure ! And as for the visit, I ay that whenever it is convenient to ~ :and Miss Nettleship.' ^t us say to-morrow, then, and I'll call _ at three. I can't offer to take you k though I am juit going there myself; uve an appointment to meet old Farth- faboutthe settlements.' tlements 1' repeated the baronet, open- _J eyes. '' fell, not exactly that, old boy,' returned t, laughing;. * You know ic is not in rer Ui make settlements ; but I wish Jl^iliiam and her daughter to under* [.thoroughly the provisions of my ^there's will before the marriage takes exactly! You are perfectly rifliht,' cousin . ' At three to-morrow, then. Bvoir !" ' \/ith which he strode away, Vivian to jump into his mail-phaeton, ive to his appointment with the law- come about in this wise : Lady i had po frequently made allusions to isent penniless condition of her sr, and'her happiness at the idea that lid now be amply provided for during 4me, that Vivian had thought it best she and Regina should be made Bd with the conditions under which mne had bequeathed him the fifty is pounds. And these conditions ^ore fitted to proceed from a lawyer's [lover's lips, he had appointed Mr. 7arthingale to meet him at Knights- i:that afternoon, for the purposes of Ition. iterview with his cousin had some- lelayed him, and when he entered Lady William's drawing-room he found the little lawyer already nloaeted with the ladies. ' Here oomes the hero of the day I' ex- claimed Mr, Farthingale,faoetioosly, as Viv- ian appeared and saluted the oempany. 'And now, as I am rather pressed for time, I will, with your ladyship's permission, at onoe pro- ceed to business. ' 'Can't you spare us the legal details »nd tell us the plain truth— for once m your life,' interposed Vivian. ' I am sure nei^er Lady William nor Miss Nettleship will understand your technical terms.' ' It is just as the ladies please, Mr. Chase- more.' ' All I care for, Mr. Farthingale,' said Lady William, ' is to be assured that my dear child is entirely provided for.' She cared for much more than this. What she wanted to know was how many thousand pounds out of the fifty were to be settled ex- clusively unon Regina for her sole use and benefit, ana Regina wanted to hear it too^ although she looked so supremely indifferent to tiie whole proceedings. ' I do not think your ladyship need have any fears on that account,' replied the lawyer ; ' but, as Mr. Chasemore has sug> gested, to read out this deed to you would only bo to trouble you to listen to a great deal that would prove both uninterest- ing and puzzling. I had better, therefore, teU you tne contents as briefly as possible. The late Sir Peregrine Chasemore left the sum of fifty thousand pounds to his grandson, Vivian Chasemore, under these conditions ; the interest of the invested money to be ex- clusively for the benefit of Mr. Chasemore during his lifetime, and at his death to revert in equal portions to his sons and daugh- ters.' ' But suppotiing they don't have any f cried Lady William, eagerly. At this signal Regina retrx^ted to the window of the back drawing-room, where she remained in silent contemplation of three empty flower-pots, the (water-cistern, and a couple of oats fighting over an old bone ; whilst Vivian walked away into the balcony, and amused himself wiuh leaning over the railings and watching the stream ot oarriagea wending their way to the Park. Lady William and the lawyer was consequently left together, and Mr. Farchingale could not help smiling to see the painful anxiety de- picted on the lady's face. ' In that case, Lady William,' he said, in answer to her question, ' the interest of ten thousand pounds is to be devoted to a dower for the lifetime of the widow, and then re- 48 THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL. varta with the remtinder of the mooey to Sir Arthar Chasemore, or his heir*.' ' CIrauioua heavona I Do you mean to tell me thac Mr. ChMemore ia tied hand aad foot in auuh a manner that be ii unable to make any aettlement upon hia widow T* * Not if he diea without an heir I But that iarather an unlikely oontinKcnu^' to ouuur,my lady. And should ho die, leaving heira, the widow eujoyo the whole income for her life- time, after which it reverta to them. It ia a perfectly fair arran(,(eiuent, and the one most commonly agreed upon intiuch oaaes.' Lady VViiliam bit her lip and aaid ntohing. Shn did nat like to hetray the disappointment ahe felt before the little lawyer whom ahe hated. 'Have you two people done taikinitT' cried Vivian, gaily, na ne peeped itito the room. ' Has Mr. Farthmgale explained everything to your entire satisfaction, Lady William V ' Oh, perfectly, Mr. Chasemore. Nothing could be plainer nor more satisfactory,' re- plied Ihis future mother-in-law. But the minute she found herself alone with Regina, she told a very different tale. ' YouVe let yourself in fora nice bargain 1 ' she said spitefully. ' That money is tied up in every possible way. If the man dies, there is positively nothing for you — unless you have a family.' ' Well, I shall have a family, I suppose — everybody does f ' rejoined her daughter. ' And I shall be much obliged if you will drop the subject, mamma.' ' iDh, of course ; that is all the thanks I get for looking after your affairs, miss 1 I'm sure I shall be heartily glad when I've washed my hands of you altogether.' * You cannot possibly be more ^lad than I shall be,' were the last words Regina said, as they parted for the night. BND OF VOL. I. VOLXJMR II. CHAPTER L * I WISHES I WAS DEAD, 1 1>0. ' Miss Nettleship was not quite so indifferent to her matrimonial prospects as she would have led us to believe. She took a keen pleasure in (metaphorically speaking) leading Vivian Chasemore about with a blue ribbon ruuud his neck ; but she occasionally felt a tinge of fear aa ahe thought of the poaaibltl uoatiiigenoy of being left a window vithoutj joiutuie worth apeakiug of. Vivian, in thtj ardour of hia paaaion, had propoaed that, ij order to avert ao terrible a calamity, tii(j| ahould not live up to their income, at tlil events, until they had laid by a oertaiil number of thousand ptmnda to form a settle! inent for herself. But llegiua did not reiiul this idea at all. She had not sold herself igl order to retreuoh and live quietly. i^M wiahed to cut a dash amougat her frieudi! and aoquuintauoeB,and till the breasta of bothj men and women with euvy. She tolit: Vivian that she would not hear of hia layinil bv anything on her account | that if he Bpol^tl of or hiiited at the probabilitiea of his dt;atiil he made her miserable, and the pretty apeecU sounded so much like the outpourings afftiotioj that the lover felt perfectly aatiatiedl So the preparationa for the wedding went ol gbily : a handaome house was taken for thj reception of the bride and bridegroom ; aoq in the miust of choosing expensive furuitun and equipages and jewellery, if Regina evei experienced a misgiving aa to her future, put it from her as a disagreeable pusaibilit,^ that might never happen, and had better uoi be thought about. She had a great deal i endure at this time from the jealousy of hei mother. It may seem an extraordinary thii^ thata woman could ever be jealous of tbeguo fortune of her child ; but selfish people ari selfish all the world over, and Lady William'| equanimity of temper was not always pro against seeing the beautiful presents tliv Vivian showered upon her daughter, otd hearing of the luxuries by which she was i be surrounded in her new house : whilst tbd poor old woman, too, hardly knew where shi should find the money to pay for tho articles for Regina which sho could not pto^j cure on credit. ' Another dress 1' she exclaimed with up lifted hands I ' why, that makes the tentbl What you are to do with them all 1 caul imagine ; or what you will find to spend yoa allowance upon after you are married. Ou^ would think you were going to be a duche Regina, at the very least.' 'Really, mamma, the girl answered, 'yoi seem to consider that anything would good enough for me ! I wish you woull remember I am about to relieve you ii|| the burden of supporting me for ever. Tei dresses ! Why, 1 ought to have twenty ) the very least ; and if this is the effect being a duke'u granddaughter, all I can ad is, that I am thankful, for the sake of nf posterity, that I am not going to beoome j duchess 1' ' Oh, of course 1 ran down your {atherjj THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. 49 ight uf the puMibJ i a window vithuutil ; of. Vivittu, iu thtj wl proposed that, ml )|« a ualauiity, tbcjl iheir inoome, at till i Uid by a oerttiil indii to form a atittlel ilegiua did nut reliiiil lad Qot sold huritiU k\ live quietly. S'hi. kinoQgst her f rieudi ,^ till the breast! of botb J Lh euvy. She tok.i not hear of his iayini J iiuut } that if he spuiitF babilities of his dvatii| ,aud the pretty speecJ the oatpourinKB oL felt perfectly satistiedl ■ the wedding went ol ise was taken for thJ tud bridegroom; auij ig expensive furuitun irellery, if Regina evei 1^ as to her future, Bhi isagreeable pusaibiliti len, and hati better ar he had a great deal t >m the jealousy of ha an extraordinary thin- sr be jealous of the goo but seltish people art er, and Lady William'd was not always pro* eautiful presents thi('| on her daughter, c'^ 8 by whioh she waa i sew house : whilst thi lardly knew where ih ley to pay for *hoi ich she could not proj 6 exclaimed with up hat makes the tenthj with them all I cau'f will find to spend yooi pu are married. Oul going to be a duchc ast.' le girl answered, * ya anything would ' I wish you wouM ut to relieve you ling me for ever. Ta ht to have twenty i this is the effect laughter, all I can il, for the sake of mj lot going to become ( t m down your fathetl as nsual, Regina I Ha may not haT« J • fortune behind him——, rK'i, that he oortainly did not,' int«rpos««l [daughter, deoitluotl II veins such as will never run through of y«)ur ohddren— if you have any I ' I I suppose Dot, mamma, unless they trit a drop or two from me t Still I ik, on the whole, I prefer red blood and to blue bluud and bread and cheese I |[tMte may be degenerated — I dare say it It I have b«eu accustomed so long to itter luxury, that I am a little tired of ■d shall enjoy a change I ' 7hilat you leave your poor mother alone .1 her days in the saine.cheerless poverty,' Lady William, weeping, (ilia did not reply directly to this in> itiuu, nor deny the truth of it. Had her |«r been an ordinary individual,' she lUl probably have comforted her by the Vance that she would live more in her tnan in her own. But the girl knew such a proceeding would entail, and illy avoided it. Visions of Mrs. Run- ic and the Maodougai, with cards late iht and sips of brandy and water, rose • strengthen tho resolution thatherfuture sliould be kept froe, as far as lay in ner ir, from all that had disgusted her in the Bnt. So she deftly turned the subject. >n't let us think of anything disagree- f mamma 1 You have had your day, you ft and surely it is time for mine to begin, jou not going to put on your bonnet ? Phaaemore is to call for us at twelve in ^w carriage, that I may see if I like it ; believe we are to go to Howell and i''8 to choose some rings. Pray don't |im see that you have been cryii:g ! He inspect we have been having words, and "links there is nothing so vulgar aa a |:^, well, my dear ! I suppose I must go, you inu^iit have a chaperon ; but it i folly in me to accustom myself to that It whioh I must manage to exist for lainder of my life.' lould think there was all the more to enjoy it whilst vou can, mamma,' her daughter; 'but if yon like it I will tell Mr. Chasemore to send for ifeeling — ungenerous ungrateful ! ' j-iike pistol-shots from Lady William's she disappeared into her bedroom. [Regina, however, who had never bad than a few shillings at a time to spend own pleasure, the rcckloss profusion with whioh Vivian threw away his money waa a aonroe of exquisite content. Not that she waa vulgarly and openly grateful. vSlie accepted all hia gifu as if they were her due, and nothing better than she had b«!<*n accnstomed to ; but she revell«ssession in private, and her inward satis- ction maiie her temper unusually sunny and beaming. Vivian thnuir' pvrtoot angel in thuve brief days u, vi.v j, and indeed she waa more like one than sne had ever been before. 8he even appeared to grow benevolent and charitable ; a phase of softness of whioh no one had ever suspected her. When Vivian Chaaemore saw her stop for a moment to drop a coin into the hand of some faded* looking woman sitting on a doorstep with an infant at her breast, or throw pennies to the little urchins that gathered round them in the Park, he thought what a good mother she would make, and thanked Heaven pre* maturely. As they drove away that morning, in the splendid chariot drawn by a couple of high- stepping bays that ha had brought round to receive the meed of her approval, a girl with a dirty face thrust a bunch of lavender in at the carriage-door. ' Oo away I' said Vivian, sharply, and ha was about to draw up the glass. * Oh, poor child I don't speak so crossly to her,' exclaimed Regina, as she threw a shil* ling to the lavender pirl. It was one of her last, but she knew it would bbar fruit a hundred-fold. Vivian drew up the window gently, and clasped her hand. ' You would make all the world as happy as yourself, Regina, if you could,' he said fondly. ' Qi course. But that poor creature looked BO ill. I am sure a meal will do her good.' 'You are so kind-hearted,' continued Vivian, ' that I have no hesitation in asking your sympathy for a little girl I know — a good little soul though iu the lower classt^s, the granddaughter, in fact, of my old land* lady. Mrs. Bell.' ' Yes. Is she ill T' ' I hope not. She was blooming enough when I saw her \>%at. Poor little Bonnie ! But they were ver ;- good to me, both grand- mother and granddaughter, at a time when I valued the kindness of even such humble friends, and I am afraid I have been very ungrateful. Fancy, I have never been near the house since I left it ! I saw you, yon witch, and you entrapped me at once, and I have bad no eyes nor ears for any one since. I wonder what they think of my defection.' 'They could hardly expect you to find / 80 THI ROOT or ALL EVIL. i|||iinii S<1 time to Tiaik thain an' it all the •ogageoMoti of • London mmoo.' ' Oh. thejr know nothingof tho molkifa- lions dntiM of m mmod I Tho^ an m inoo* oont M if they bad lived »U their Uvea in the eoantry in•(e'^dof Drory Lane/ ' 1 hope yoa don't want oio to go to Drnry Lane, Vivian I Mamma i» ao afraid of thoee ■ort of plaoea.' ' Mv darling I aa if I wonld let tou. No t what I thooKht waa that I aoonld like to gire any old frieoda a preeent when I marry, and that it wonld come more graoef ally from yon than from me. A black ailk dreaa for the old lady], and anything von think a yonng woman in that etation uf life would like beet, lor Bonnie. Yon oould ohooae them lo maoh better than I oonld, and 1 would aend it to thorn in ynur name.' ' OerUinly, if you wiati it. B«t would not that oomo better alter the ftth of September than before ?' < i think yon are right, as you always are. But in that oaae yoa muet bear it in mind yourself, for I shall have time to think ol nothing but you.' By whiofa means it Ml out that neither Bonnie nor Mra. Bell ever saw the preeents which it waa settled Mrs. Vivian CluMemore was to select for thero. When they reached Howell and James's it was with diffioultv Lady William could be perauaded to leave the carriage. Although she had been KrumUing to herself all the while, because the easy sprioga ahe sat on and the rich brocaded silk cushions ahe leant againat were not to be hers, but- her dianghter's, ahe liked them so well that she would have muoh preferred aitting there, making believe,' as the children say, that she waa enjoying her own property, to look* ing at caaes ol diamond and ruby and •merald rings. However, Begina waa in- asorable in her demands that her cha- peron should aocompany her inside the jeweller's establishment, and Lady William was compiled to obey. The choice took a long time. Each drawer of glittering rings looked more tempting than the last, and the aettinos were ao varied and so beautiful At laat Vivian, glaneing at his watch, remem« bered a pressing engagement at his club, which would only,however, detain him a few moments. So, asking permission ol the ladies to leave them to make the final deoiaion and to call for him on tiieir way home, he quitted the shop and drove to Pall Mall, sending back the carriage immediately lor them. Even then they were not quite ready, lor Regina kept tryins on, first a Half • hoop and then a duater ol oiamouds on her little finger, quite unable to order which J ahould be sent to her address, K% last, sc ever, the deoiaion was arrived at, and tb roee to follow Vivian. Aa they stood at the door, waiting for carriage to draw up, Rygina noticed a ^ leaning in a droopma attitude against i iron palings. She did not look ill, nor ti poor. Her stoff dress was good and n*^ and her little straw hat wsa neatly trimm But h«r brge blue eyea were oast upwa withso£Mi and despairing an exprea that it arreeted Miss NettJeship's attent even thoitgh there waa, no one by Wa wb^ it was her interest to appear haa anTeharitabla. * Are you ill f she inquired of the girl The blue eyes glanced for a mo wonderingly at her faahionable drees golden>crowned head (for Regina, altl so poor, was always attired in the la mode), and then drooped wearily again. *No,ma'amI' withftw 4 little ahake the head. * What is the matter with > u then ?, ' Nothing I nothing 1 I thouf^^t i •»! friend, bnt he is gone I Indeed it is iog.' * Is she madf whispered Miss Nett„ in an aweatruek tone to the shopman, had bowed them to the door. *0b, no, madam 1 There are plenty! her about. We are pestered with every moment. Come now, 'he eontinn a loud tone to the girl, *move away here, will you, or 1 snail send for the poll ' Don't be harsh to her V said Begins, \ feminine pity. Did some prevision ofj dark fnture flash through her mind at f moment, and make her experience a woo compassion lor the poor soul who sL suffer through her guiitt Who can tell! j she almost felt aa if aha would like to i the stranger'a hand. ' Here is somethi help you,'^8he added* aa she put the mos the girl's listless palm. Bonnie — for it was indeed Bonnie! stood there to rest and think— gazed l silver for an instant inquiringly, and I replaced it in Regina'a hand. ' No, thank yoa, ma'am V she said qn ' I've got plenty of money at home.' * Come away t come away 1' wL Lady William, as she clutched hw dai. arm. * How can yon stand there talk that creature? Can't yon see she's d Keally, Regina,' she continued, aa tm entered the carriage and drove to Pall ' ' yon have no sense of your own The idea ol stopping to talk to people I open street I What can the lootman you t' "'It it very little oonseqnonoe to bm THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL. SI rrived ftlpMidth oor, waitioBlori riiina noiioed » . lol look m, nor w iTMgood »on H WM DMtly triinn^ I wort oMtupwi irioa »n oxpr** letUwliip't •**«*, B,no one by wM Mi to »pp»f •»•' iqoiredotthogirl AO«d lor » nwi" fMhionable dr««i» ifor Repiu«, »lw ikttirod lo *»«. '* ped we»nly »R»>o. i^A UttU •»»*'»• w with > «» thon ?, I I thoOK^-t 1»»' e I Indeed ii »• «>«< roered Miw Neti B to the shopinw*, ^ ibedoor. There we plenty Ire peetored with « nenow,'heeontia« airl, *niove »w*y fi»ll send for the poll her I'tikid Begin V 1 Bome previBWD oil iroagh her nwnd at ler experience »woiP< poor eoul who «, kik! Who can tell? ■be would Uhe to t • Here ie •omethi •ftiheputthemoH ^' indeed Bonme] Mid think-gMfld rt at inquiringly* »o* pm'b hand. . rmft'MilehosMi'q^ I money tX hoine. loome aw»y l* whu Ibadutchedherdaiig] lyou »t»nd there t»l»" Un't you see •ho'» J , ■■ I continued, MtM , And drove to P»Uj ,e of your own uia to t»lk to peop lit etfk the footman 1 oonieqnenoe to v»\ ike, mamma. He will be my eervaat ir week, aud will hav« to think aa I il the woman waa intoxioatad I' wae no euob thing i' le idea ol ooatradiuting your mother ■uoh a eubjeut 1 Wbal can yo^ know r roa have given me plenty of axperienoe, nth Mre. Uuonymeiie and other friflodi. 1( 1 do not know a tipsj from a eober one by tkie time, it u the want ol being able to compare [ whioh oroel etatement Lady William il into indignant reproauhei, which ' until Vivian ran emiliug down the hia olub to juiQ them again, iwhile Mra. B«i> wae jugging from Itle ahop to another, aekiug all her >nra if they had happened to aet eyea inie. bonnie 7 ' exclaimed Mra. Bull, the the butoher at the corner. '.Lor ', ly aoul, Mra. Bell, ma'am, you dun't \%n tell roe a« you lata lh»t gal go ig anywherea without your know* ^"indeed, Mra. Bull I I know my duty thild butter than that oomea to, but h«a been very queer aud uuaettled [ and 1 oan't make 'er out. iShe'a ao idable like. If I aeod 'er of au > otf ahe ia, like a ahoc, and don't oome houra. Aud 'tain't to be t;xpeoied, 11, aa I can run of erranta myaelf, at of life, nor keep a aervaut to run tme.' |pbe the gal'a aiokenin' for jummat. laaon'' children lie dead of the , aiid tney tell me aa aoarlet>fever ia out in the next atreet.' fno, it ain't that I Bonnie'a bin juliar in the head ; sud aa for rhy we Uvea in the midat of 'em that we do I 'acquieaoed Mra. Bull , ty fevera they air too — allaya tak le wrong {^ople. Didn't I loao my ad boya the year afore laat with loid, aud there'a that brute Bull the. day 'a long I' , », Mra. Bull ; though (if I muat [truth) those boya of your'n were the atreet, whatever they may to you. However, that 'a sut do with my gal, who'a not bin I momin' aince eleven o'clock.' [on earth don't yon marry 'er hoff, "' ?' I expect there'a many a young lid take her, for ihe'a a peraon* able-lookia* gal anoff, when her 'airi etraigbl ' 'lliat'ajaalit, Mra. Bull Ronnia goee agea me ui everytbink. Kit Maatera wou'<\ marry her to-morrow, bat ahe wou't 'ava » word to eay to 'im> * And Maatara muat be doio* finely, too.* ' Aye, that he ia 1 — and Juat come into a fortune of Hfty ponnde into the barrfBin.' ' You doJt lay to, Mra. Bell I 'Ow'a ihatr' * I can't say- aomebodv leave it Mm, I anppoee i 'e didn't tell me, but 'e'a got it aure eonif. And it might be all Boutie'a for the aakin' I' ' Lor', the gal muat be a fool I A young feller like that didu't ought to 'ave to ha>-k twioe. But ain't that Bonnie'a hat oomiu' down the attest now T' *Tobe aurel there'a my lady'a a-oomin' 'om« at two o'clock, and bin gone aince eleven — and not a tbing dune in the 'ouai? ! It'e enutf to break one'e eart I But I'll be even witli her, never fear. Good-day to you, Mra Bull' ' Oood'day, Mra. Bell, ma'am { and 'opiii' you'll manage to bring that gal to 'ar aenaea.' Having fluiahed her intereating converaa- tiun, Mra. Bell walked alowly to her own houae, whiuh ahe reached juat aa Bonnie had bung up 'ur hat and ahawl upon a peg, and . aeated buraelf behind the counter. ' Oh 1 ao you're 'ome again, miaa, are ve»*. commenced her gran«l*nother angrily. * An where may you 'ave bin for the laat tbrea houraT — auawer me that.' ' Don't bother me, grandmother,' replied, the eirl, wearily. * Don't bother ye ? you independent gad- about I Do yon think you can leave a.re«* apeotable houae at all timea, aud coma and, ge aa yon chooae 7 Yon can't then, and I'il have uo more of ik Mow, where havaivoiu bin V ' I've bin after no harm.' ' I don't know that i reapectablagaladon'ti- trape about the atreeta all by theiraelvea. Who 'ave you bin a-aeeiu' of, or a>talkin' to ?^ * No one— at leaat a lady apoke to u.e, . but ■ I anppoee that won't kill me.' * A lady ! What did ahe aay f * She aaked me if I waa ilL' *Iu conrae 1 No real lady would; thbk. but what a gal waa ill aa lounged about all, day doins nothink. Now, Bonnie, you liaten to me. I won't have no more of it Yon. don't leave the houae asen after thia day aoleaa I goea along of ye.° ' Oh, 1 muat get out and have a bit of freah air t' exclaimed the girl, impatiently.. I can't bide in thia hot atreet all day. It. 02 THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. makes me sick, with the imelli and the dirt and the nniae. If ye don't let me ran out for a breath 'vhea I feels the want of it, I'll run straight off, and never come baok toyou. So now yoti know my mind, grandmother.' Old Mrs. ijell stood aghast. She had always known Bonnie to be what she called ' ' pecnliar,' but she had never yet heard her give vent to suob an expression of rebellion as this. She had been an indolent, dream- ing, forgetful nort of girl all her life ; but this was t'ie first time she had actually . «• iu3ed tr oHey her grandmother, or hintsd that thore was a possibility of their lots bein^ divided. ' Well, of all the ungrateful, wicked, schem- ing 'at lies I ever see,' cried Mrs. Btill, * you're uhe very wust ! Don't yon know as I broughu you up from a hiofant, to be what you are , and not content with wearin' out my lifo with your lazy, do nothin' ways, you mtt2>t go and per pose to leave me altof^etber. Oh, I m glad| my poor Joe ntiver lived to B ee this day ! He was a good lad, he was, who loved 'is poor mother, and would h. ve slapped your face afore 'e'd 'ave let you speak to n i3 in this manner. But you never was a bit hi a '.iim in body or soul— more's the pity — and 1 only hope he ain't bin a*heariu' in heaven ihe words as vou've just said to me.' * Why oan't you le&ro nia alone then T ' ex- claimed Bonnio in he'r turn. ' All I ask fur is peace and quiet, and not to have that horrrid feller Kit Masters thrust down my throat every minnit. It's ennff to make a gal run away to be asked to marry a low creature likb that 1 ' ' A low creature, indeed ! That's your manners, is it? VVhy, he's just come into a forti'i of fifcy pounds in gold I ' * What s that to me ^ I don't want him nor his fifty pjunds. I dare say he stole 'em. All I want is to have a walk now and again ; «nd one would think that walkin'wasacrime, by the way you goes ju at ma about it.' ' No, Bonnie ! walkin' ain't a crime,' replied Mrs. Bell, solemnly ', * but leavin' the house »nd|the shop to be minded Sy yoar poor grand- mother at her time of life ; vtrhen you know whac the stairs is to her, ii a crime and a grievance ; and what's more. I won't stand it.' ' I'm sure I've always dusted and cleaned the rooms as they should be,' rejoined Bonnie. ' You've often said as I spent too much time on 'em.' * Yes, on the hupper rooms ; but they're not ^he kitchen-floor nor yet the shop. When I.Ir. Waverley was here, you was allays at 'ome, doiu' this, that, or t'other 1 but now that we've got no lodger, you seems to m«^ as restless as a cat in a strange place ant's and as if you could never settle to a thiD^j And now, whatever are yon a-oryin' for ? ' | For Bonnie had laid her bead down up., the counter and burst into • violent flood of| tears, which prevented her for some minute from answering her grandmother's question ' ^Veil, I do feel unsettled and ill mto tbl barg'iu, and that's the truth. I suppose itl this hot weather and never bavin' uhanee.' * You might 'ave change and to spare, you wouldn t be so hobstinate, Theres's '. bin a-speakiu' to me agen about you — an worry in' to have the banns put up. I'g sure I wonder 'e cares tuppence for sichll contrary oreetur ; but there's no accouati for men's likin's. You'd better think ovtf the matter agen, Bonnie, and take 'im. Y the faint cry of pleasure with which she * him, or to see the Hsure of the girl — long so many — that shrjink back into >wd as he drove out of sight. Another she had passed him almost shoulder to Ider, as she leant against the railings of ?ark gates, gazing idly at the stream of carriages and people who were driving or walking up and down Rotten Row. She bad nearly failed to recognise on that occasion, in the fashionably'dressed young man, with a gardenia in his button hole and the smallest of canes in his hand, their * ci> devant' lodger, Alfred Waverley, for Bonnie knew Vivian Chasemore by no other lame. She had started as his handsome, delioately- cut prjtile came into view, and would have spoken, perhaps, had he not been in close attendance on two ladiea whose faces Bonnie could not see. But what cared she for any one, poor child 1 except the one hero of her imagination, whom she would have walked a dozen miles any day to see but for a moment ? She thought these passing visions of a glory and splendour into which she c(«nld never hope to enter did her good, but it was quite the reverse. As soon as the excitement of seeing him had died away, a deeper depression than usual would succeed it ; and Mrs. Bell had reason to remark, when she was wak«n«d from her own slumbers to hear her grand- child Bobbing in her sleep, that she didn't believe these long rambles did Bonnie any good. A taird time the girl had met with Vivitiu Chasemore, and that was as he was driving from Huwell and James' to his club, on the occasion which has been narrated. Then, she had caught sight of him lulling luxuriously back in a carriage still more btantiful than the one he had occupied be* for, and evidently thinking of nothing bat twirling his moustaches. IP^it VM this vision, and the great golf it seemed to mark between their past and future intercourse, that had ::ant poor Bonnie reeling with emotion and faintness against the steps of Messrs. Howell and James' establishment, and called forth the omel suspicion from Lady William Nettleship that she \..j in- toxicated. She hardly looked at the face of the lady who accosted her. She only remem* bered that some one had spoken and offered her money, and she had refused it. All her mind was tilled with the sight she had seen t of her prince, raised, it is true, to the position he ought always to have occupied, but having left her, his humble little subject, so im> measurably far behind him. Could that be the same gentleman, she. argued with herself, as she took her way slowly homewards, on whom she had watted, for whom she had cooked, and who had thanked her so earnestly for the loan of her stuff-gown to keep the draught from the door when he was ill ? Had she met hiin, well- dressed, driving about in a hansom, with a . rose in hit button-hole, she would have con* eidered it only the natural oooaequenoe uf ' 54 THE ROOT O*' AX^ii EVIL. ' oooiing into a fortune ; ' hrit lo great a trans formation scene as she hftd witnessed that day puzzled the weak little brain altogether. It was almost as wonderfal as if he had gone to heaven itself, whence she had seen him return with a pair of glistening nt ines ; and she would hardly have felt the gulf which bad suddenly yawned between them to be greater than it was now. Still he was yet on earth, and Bounie's most ambitious dream had resolved itself into the hope of once more becoming his servant. To be near him, she thought to live under the same roof, to black bis boots and make his bed, and keep his room bright and 'fresh and clean — this was the summit of her ambition. She 'nr«5 quite ignorant of the style and manner in which youne men af fortni.3 live —had no knowle*tge ofcuikmbers, no idea of the duties of a valet^ and thought that every unmarried gentlemen kept some nice tidy girl to attend to his creaturer to give them warning that tht cerema was over; but the handsomest of all,| barouche drawn by white horses, the co man and footman "f which wore imme bouquets of flowers in their button. holi was ready in waiting at the bottom of steps. 'That's for the bride and bride^r remarked a milliner's girl standiuu Bonnie's side. 'Lor'l ain't some peopltj luck t Just look at them 'orses t The; fit for the qunen. ' ' Is she very rich ?' wLspered Bonnie,tol neighbour. ' I don't think so. We made part of i troussore, and we didn't think great sha of the dressei. But 'e is— rich as Grease I'ni told, anfl 'ansome as a rosu I I seel go in. And she's wearin' a lovely satii twelve and sixpence a yard — but she's pale to suit my fancy. I liLes more colo q'lotedthe milliner's girl, who had not 1 left the country, and had two cheeks peonies. ' 'Ere they are I' exclaimed the crowd, | the nun at the church-door waved his i frantically, and the coachmen flicked u horses| sides to wake them up, and the nol of a triumphal march pealed f arth from organ inside. But it was a false -'" "?*NS THE ROOT OF ALL BVIL. fiS ^tlem, the defrayal) irith many coagratalatio iddle-naan ' who ble the unfortanate inan|gj w fearlully Bwindled | i was here that xohanged her blue Uo uectioos for youDft 8ti kdaod a year, which separation and haadson y luontha were orer I iD f aot, that parsons >t their fees, without ev inquire if their oust 'anoe in auy li^ht exoept| i it was here that Reg he envy of all her fei >o make herself o/er for the oousideration iiQils. A wedding in for a woman, par Isome one. The carr liorses and favoara ses of the ladies ; ab t clings about a bride i ibine to make our Enti tty shoT;. s. L herself as near aa 1 of St. George's ch« going on. There wii| riages drawn up in al of a mas at the ehun 'arning that th6 ceren he handsomest of all,| r white horses, the co of which wore imma rs in their button>holi ing at the bottom of bride and ner's girl atahdIuK l| or' 1 ain't some peoinej ,t them 'orses I Then bride^r atahdiug I' wh.'spered fionnie,tok We made part of i lida't think great shtl t 'e is — rich as Grease me as a roso I I wearin' a lovely satiij le a yard — but she'* I sy. I likes more colo 'a girl, who had not! >cd had two oheeka ' exclaimed the crowd, | 'oh-door waved hia i I coachmen flicked ' e them up, and the Dd ch pealed f 3rth from I i it was a false Iding-party had only turned from th« Jiuto the vestry to receipt the bill and Jftlie * middle-man * hia fee. md back there ]* exclaimed a fierce- ag policeman, as he thrust the crowd of J nursery-maids, ohildp' " . and milliners »r away, and the man ^;; the door ex- fast-increasing exeiteinent There [| crimson roll of dmggetins laid from ''inrch-door to the bottom of tbo steps, ieh Ronnie gazed with silent awe. tffa for the ladies' dresses,* explained Uliging neighbour. * There's the beanti* ; lot of satma and silks as I've seen for , time here to-day, and it's strange, too, Bring it's out of the season. But then adegroom's got sich a lot of money, of they'd like to 'ave everytJiing ooa* lllible to his riches.' /hat's his name ?' demanded Bonnie. can't tell you. She's a Miss Nettleship. Idaughterof a real duko — or at least say 80 — though they may only have it up after all. But bless yon 1 here ?are I' bnie looked up quickly, and her eyea bUy fell first upon the bride. Regina ' handsomer in her wedding attire uian brides do. The intense whiteness of Iress did not clash with her pale wax* smplexion. She looked like a beautiful lie as she moved down the cricison- Ited steps, her golden hair crowned myrtle and orange-blossom, and the tof her satin robe sweeping imperially behind her. Bonnie could not take ires of the bride's face : she had quite en the bridegrrjm as she gazed at /a claasi I featcres. I't he a 'cter of s man ?' whispered liner's apprenticj. ' Don't let him go I you've bad a cood look at him. See 1 ' irning 'is 'ead now 1 Ain't he bean- Twice as 'aadsome a« she, in my opin- lie suddenly diverted her eyes in the lution of Vivian Chasemore. He was ag at the carriasfe-door, helping his to settle hetself and her voluminous in the vehicle, and Bonnie had a full of him. -he — ' she stammered . pointing him her neighbour with a snaking finger, I't the croom 1' i course he isl who else? Don't you li^ht pants and tie, and the white his buiton-hole? Why, 1 know 'im 11 as can be 1 He often oome with fNettleship when she worried, us about Iresaes. ' [e's married to her I' gasped Bonnie as her face turned to an ashen hue. ' Why, where 'ave you you ever see anvbody but the bride out of church ? bin bred? Did the groom 'ring In oourse 'e's the one. Now 'e's got into the same earriaga and driven off with 'er. Do you *ant a bet- ter proof than that? One would think yon had never seen a wedding before 1 Oh, I eay 1 jest look at this shaking old guy 1 That's her mother. We made that dress too. It's brocade. It cost seventeen and sixpence ft yard. Do you like the colour 1' But Bonnie made no answer to this que*- tion. Something had seemed to atop go- ne near her heart as she caught sight of Alfred Waverley's faee, and now h'sr head was growing heavier and heavier and her legs seemed to give way under her, and in another moment she had sunk fainting to the ground. ' Oh 1 I say, Mr. Policeman, here's some- body ill r gasped the milliner's apprentioe,a» Bonnie's sudden fall diverted her attention from the rest of (he wedding sroup. ' Who'll carry 'er out of the crush? WonH some of ion gputlemen make yourselves pleasant ? 'he poor girl is in a drad swoon.* Two or three of the ' gentlemen ' alluded to, who consisted of butcher boys with trays of meat, law clerks with blue bags, and croasing-sweepers, came forward and lifted poor Bonnie from under the feet of the gaping crowd. The policeman, in hopes of finding she was intoxicated, followed in their wake until he saw her deposited on a door- step opposite, where a large nnmber of the sight-seers also congregated, by way of keepings out the air. 'The riiow opposite was nearly over — the best of the dresses and bonnets had driven away ; and as there was a chance of tho strancer being in a fit, or dead, they considered it but prudent to secure the front row of seats for the new per- formance. Bonnie disappointed them, how- ever. It is true that tibe last carriage had disappeanul from St. Georae's, Hanover Square, before she re-opened her sad, misty blue oyes ; but then,although she looked very confused, it was evident that before lone she would get up aod walk home again, and the majority of her audience turned away with a snort of disgust, and went off in search of further excitement. • Where am I ?— What are you doing ? — Who brought me here ? ' exclaimed Bonnie with a puzzled air, as rfhe oame to her senses. •Why, yon've bin a bit ill,' replied her milliner friend, who still kept by her side. ' We was lookin' at the wedding— -dont you remember ? — and the crush was too much for you.' 'Ah, the wedding!' repeated Bonnie 56 TF*? ROOT OF ALL EVIL. faiatly, ati she closed her eyes and seemed as | if she were about to faint again. { ' Come along 1 don't let's have no mor<^ of that nonsense i ' interposed the policeman rouf^hly, as he raised the girl into a standing positiou by pulliug her up by one arm. * You can walk well enough if you choose, and if you don't dear out ot this, sharp, I shall send for a stretcher and carry you. You've blocked up the highway long enough. ' * Ugh, you brute !' exclaimed the staunch lictle milliner. * How dare you speak to my friend like that 1 Anybody can see how ill she is, and she don't btir from here till she's able to walk, unleus yon choose to pay for a cab for her. You take my arm, dear,' she continued to Bonnie, * aud come 'ome with me for a minnic, and gjt a drink of water. I don't live above a stone's throw from here.' Bonnie was half -standing, half leaning agamit the door of the house, upon the stjps o{ w'>ioh she had been placed. Her head still :elt very giddy and confused, but she understood the words addressed to her aud did what she was required. • Now, Mr. Policeman, you last put your 'and under her other arm, and elp er along that way. There ! that's- better ; she can walk a little now, and ,between us we shall manage to get her to my 'onse. The milliner's house turned out to la a dirty Ltilgiug, where she and a dozen other apprentices slept every night under the charge of a snuffy old woman, who was induced, however, by Bonnie's pretty face and respectable appearance, to allow her to rest for a few minutes, whilst her new ac- quaintance fetched her a glaa^ of water. The girl sat when they pushed her into a chair, and drank when they held the water to her lipa, but all she did was done mechanically : and after their humble attentions were con- clud<)d, she continued to stare into vacancy, as if she noticed nothing before her. ' She ain't come to her right senses yet,' whispered the apprantice to the old woman. The policeman had taken his departure as oon as he had seen her to the door. * Has she ever had 'em ? ' inquired the other, doubtfully. ' Oh yes ! She was right enough whilst we was lookin' at the weddin*' But the 'eat took 'er, and she dropped all of a sudden.' ' Ah, wull ! she looks >adly now, don't she ?' ' I must go I ' ejaculated Bonnie, slowly, as she rose from her seat. ' Where do you live — far off from here ? Are you well enough to walk by yerself, dear ? Best a bit longer if you feels inclined,' ■aid the kind- hearted little apprentice. But Bonnie shook off her touch, and witJ a quiet 'Thank yon,' moved towards thil door. They unlatched it and let her gol forth, and watched her staggering slowljl down the street. * She ain't fit to walk alone,' remarked th«| milliner, ' but I 'aven't the time to go witlt| 'er — I'm hours late as it is. La t poorl thing I how she reels. She looks as if shf(l| topple over every minnit. ' ' She^l be " rnn in " by some of theni nasty policemen afore she's gone a quarter ofi mile,' remarked the old woman, as Bonnitl turned the corner and passed out of view. But so dire a certainty did not befall herl though bow she groped her way from Han-I over Square to Drury Lane that day, thif poor child never knew. It was aocomplishei at last, however, thouffh it must have taketj her hours, for the dock was striking four : she dragged her weary form into her grandJ mother^ parlour. ! ' Bless me, Bonnie, how white you look[ and wherever have you bin all this tiroe?| exclaimed Mrs. B^U, as the girl laid htij head back in her chair and fainted awin again. The old woman was really fond of h« granddaughter, however much she raile against her, and Bonnie's unusual illnts alaimed her. She used every known mea to restore her to consciousness, and then] attributing the accident %o the oppresaifi heat of the autumn, and weakness conitj quent upon it, she made Bonnie go upstairi to bed, and waited on her the rest of tin day as actively as if she had been tweutj years old instead of seventy. * Grandmother V said the girl feebly thi evening;, as Mrs. Bell sat by Her bedside wit her knitting in her hand, 'do you wantp I to marry that feller Masters V ' Want yon to marry 'im, Bonnie t in course I do ; and I can't 'elp thinkiij you're a great fool to refuse to keep compu with 'im. I ain't so young as 1 was, ;4 know, my dear, and afore long it'll be tif for me to join your poor grandfather andi dear boy Joe, and then what's to become yon, left all alone, with the shop on yo^ 'ands?* *And will it 'elp yon if I marries hio continued Bonnie. 'That it will — ^in a measure - for I should wonder if we ended by making it one oern. But anyways^ it'll take you off 'ands for keep, and yon eats hearty in gij eral, yon know, Bonnie, and don't do noto towards earnia' your food.' ' All right, then — you may tell 'im as doitr THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. 51 I alone,' remarked tM the time to go witlil as it; iB. La! poor! She looks as if Bh((l| oit.' I i" by some of thenl she's gone a quarter oil d woman, as Bonnii| passed out of view, aty did not befall heti d her way from HanJ ;ry Lane that day, thrf ■. It was accomplish igh it must have takeiil •k was striking four;,! y form into her grand- how white you looki [)ubin all this time!'! 11, as the girl laid hetj ur and fainted awajT ameasnre-forlshonld* Iby making it one r ys- it'll take you off i yon eats hearty in gj )nnie, and don't do noU^ mr food.' -you may tell 'im aB Bell dropped her knitting in her ihment. Iq'U marry Mm, Bonnie ? Wel!,I never I I's no knowic' the twists and turns uf a I's mind. However, 'e'U jnmp at the fp never you fear, and we'll 'ear the next Sunday.' |[(l in her enthnxiasm Mrs. Bell actnallv Bonnie's cheek— a weakess in which }r do not indulge as freely as the | « [girl turned her face to the wall as I her {grandmother's eyes were o£F her, ,ied in silence. She was rough in (and manner, and ignorant in mind; was a spirit of determination and Jice in the character of Bonnie Bell Ewas only just beginning % struggle CHAPTER IIL 'what are ItOU DOING HERE V I Farthingale was one of the guests ina Nectleahip's wedding, and highly * had she been to accept an invitation Hd out the prospect of a whole day the society of Sir Arthur Chase- She had wasted at least two weeks ind in designing and ordering her for the eventful occasion, and Miss >ppenheim and she had nearly turned las in endeavouring to decide the merits of sky-blue, sea-green, and [aatin islovely.dearMios Farthingale,' Ibpenheim affirmed in her purring Fit is fit for a duchess, and would i rich with a white lace mantle and t but then, only just see how the pink its your complexion, and yet this , gauze would be so light and ele- fcr your mauve under-skirt. Oh dear I Flit is almost impossible to give an inpon so many beautiful things 1 ' Ithe time is getting on, and we really side,' replied Selina ; 'so what do ^ Janet, to this pale pink silk, with a *le and bonnet with blush roses ? ' reJy— lovely ! exquisite I ' exclaim- pmpanion clasping her hands ; in the world could be in better k sky-blue, with forget-me-nots in et,' continued Sehna musingly ; Irget-rae-not " is such a sweet flower |of touching ideas and recolleistions.' Bry— very! Quite so I Nothing sweeter than •' forget-me-nots " I ' 1 Miss Janet. Edove grey satin with white roses I Oentlemen like qniet modest colours as a rule, only dove-grey is rather an elderly tint for a woman of my age.' * Oh ! much too old, dear Miss Farthingale. I am sure he would rather see you in pink — couleur de rose, yon know, as your life is sure to be.' * What a flatterer yon are, Janet ! And what right have von to allude to any parti* oular he ? I spoke of gentlemen in general.' ' I know yon did, dear ; still, we may all have our thoughts, may we not 7 And yoa know he is to oe best man, and will have no eyes for any one but yourself.' ' I don't k ow that ! I behove it is th« custom for the best man to take in the prin* cipal bridesmaid to brft^kfast. I think it was most ill-natured of Regina Nettleship to leave me out of the list of bridesmaids, and particularly as none of them are her rela^ons.' ' She was afraid yon would entail the rest out — that was her reason, dear MissFar« thingale, you may depend upon it.' ' I dare say ic was. There ia not one of the set who can wear such a dress as myself ! But she had the impertinence to tell me that they were none of tnem above twenty, and it would be to my disadvantage to be seen amongst them !' * Oti ! the envious, sillylthing !' cried Miss Oppenheim. ' Any one could see through that excuse, dear Miss Farthingale: She knew, of oonrse, that yon would put them all in the shade.' ' And I mean to do it if possible. I think after all I will decide on the pink, Janet. And I shall wear the set of pearls papa gave me last birthdr.y. I do not believe that Regina herself will have any ornaments to compare with them, although Lady William never loses an opportunity of thrusting Vi« vian Chasemore and his generosity down my throat' ' She guesses yon will have the title, daar Miss Farthinsale, and be the head of the family, and the poor old woman naturally feels jealous. They won't boast so mnoh of their wedding after they have seen yours.' ' Yon nau^ty girl ! Yon really mnsn't talk of my prospects so openly. Yon know that nothing is settled yet. Though my pa^*a certainlv has it in his power to spend twice as much money on such an occasion aa the Nettleships.' ' And he'll do it, too. You must mind and observe every little detail of the wed- ding, dear.that we may compare notes after- wards. ' I will, unless something very particular distracts my attention . I wish von were going with us Janet. Yon would have been 58 TBE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. Able to look about you well, without let or hindranoe.' ' How oould I have mixed iu luoh a my scene iu my deep mourning, dear Hiis Fart;hingale ? And even might I have ohaufied it for that day, I have no money tc buy gay dreMtee with. . You forgot that everyboHv i» nv-tt as happily situated as yourself.' Selena's sallow complexion grew darker with a blush of diaocmpnsure. ' I am aure my papa would have advanced you a little money, Janet, or given it, if necessary. I have told you how' hard he is trying to save something for you out of the remnant of your aunt's small fortune.' ' Oh ! ho is goodness itself. Bat I was not asked to the wedding, you know, and so there need be no question about the matter. I shall dress - you with my own hands, and then sit at home, thinking how beautiful you look, and how much you are enjoying yourself, until you come back to tell me all •bout it. ' Selina looked down upon her humble- minded friend almost affectionately. She really would have enjoyed taking Miss Oppenheim to the wedding, if only to hear hor own praises continually dinned into her ear. But Regina Nettleship had not included Selina's jackal in her invitatiun^ She had sent cards to the Farthingales themselves only at the solicitation of Vivian Chasemere, who considered that the man who had been the means of restoring him to his friends and fortune had some claim upon his hospitality on such an occasion. So that Miss Farthingale in her pink silk and roses, and her little father in a brand-new suit, had been amongst the earliest arrivals at St. George's church on the memorable morning when poor Bonnie Bell saw her idol shatter- ed before her eyes, and Regina Nettleship swept down the steps as Mrs. Vivian Chase* more. As Lady William had no aocommoviation for a wedding-party at her dingy litcle lodg- ings, Mrs. Scingo had been kind enough to place her grand rooms at her disposal for the reception of her friends at breakfast, and thither the carriages took their way, as, one bv one, they rolled from the church-doors. Mrs. Stingo had another motive than that of .vjoommodating Lady William's guests for lier apparent amiability. Which of these women of the world ever do an act of kind- ness towards another from the single-hearted 'mah to be amiable T She lent her rooms, it is true, and permitted her servants to help in waiting at table, but she knew well enough nhe should get her ' quid pro quo ' in the no- tices of the ' Court Circular ' and ' Morning Post,' and moat probably the ' kudos ' inUJ the bargain of having provided the weddia breakfast, "^ It brought around her also (as Lady Wi] liam had already done in her own person)^ number ot people who would never hvn known her for herself, but of whose quaintance she should ever afterwards! able to boast. Whilst the people themselvo knew they would be under no obligation I do more than bow to Mri. Stingo, should iltj luck bring them across her path again, everybody was well satisfied upon Regin Nettleship's wedding morning. And no one more so than Selina Farthii4 gale. It is true tlu\t the exigencies of ciety compelled Sir A.'-.hur to sit besiA one of the bridesmaids at the breakfast-tablel but she happened to be a girl whose on wedding was nxed for only a fortnight lata| and so Miss Farthingale had no fear of attractions endangering her cause with til baronet. She gaz^d upon him so continudDJ during the progress of the meal, as entirelj to neglect her own appetite and the parts who sat beside her ; and when, as best he rose to return thanks for the health t the bridesmaids, she thought his speech < the most eloquent and the best deliven that she had ever heard. In fact the solid tor's daughter was more enamourei of baronet, and more determined by hook or I crook to win him for herself, than she had ever been before. At last the tedious ordeal of wadi^ through a heavy and indigestible meal, ati hour when no one is accustomed to eat kx^ thing at all, was over, and the bridegr had been brought to his feet, and madelj look very foolish and utter a great dealj unmeaning tautologv ; whilst the bride kq her eyes fixed upon her lap, and played m vously with her gloves and bouquet. Evert thing had been done, in fact, to make evei bod^ else feel as uncomfortable as possibly could. And now the signal was given for bride to retire and change her white is^ robes for a costume more suitable for ' railway train. The ladies fluttered the bridesmaids, with one ' but just a carpet-hon, and home at ^Vilock; but now that de. r Reg n s gone^ fcll be so dull wiibout her I ' Stingo was quite ready to accede to desire. She was too fat and old to I herself ; but she would have felt as the young ones, left to Mr. Stingo i^her own meditations after so much and so she consented to the p'an, and ^out to secure a pianist, and invited f body to Mtay at her house for the re- ler of the day. majority of the guests took advantage kindness. Selina was tmonffst them, seconded the bridesmaids^proposal loe with great avidity. She had even Ifo far as to whisper to them that if ptingo objected to the plan, they should fit out at her father's house. She had able to do more than look at and to Sir Arthur Chasepiore as yet, and >Bpect of an afternoon and evening i^in his company was too delightful On an occasion too, so full of pleasant itions, what might not the result of a ^tete be ? was so eager and excited at the idea, that it was some Httle time before she missed the presence of the baronet from the house, and no one seemed to know where he had gone. Some thought he must have businesa of importance in hand, and had slipped away to attend to it ; others, that he had accom- panied his cousins to the station, and would be back in half an hour. But the half-hour came and went, and Sir Arthur had not re-appeared. Selina was terribly put out, though she did not dare to show it. As the afternoon wore on she lost her temper completely, and even proposed to go home without waiting for the evening's amusement But her father perceived her humour, and urged her to remain. He thought it so probable that Sir Arthur had engaged to look after some of Vivian's domestic matters for him during his absense, and had determined to get the business over at once, in order to be free to return to Mrs. Stingo's for the dance in the evening. And on that supposition Selina consented to stay with the Itadies during the aftprnonn, and share their tea and listen to their babble of the compliments they had received that morning and the partners they hoped to se* cure that evening whilst they re-arranged their ' chevelures' and shook out their tum- bled skirts. When they descended to the drawing-room they were a very gay-looking party : a little jaded, prehaps, with the fatigues of the day, but stiU quite lively enough to tire out the finger of the pianist who piped to their danc ing. But Sir Arthur was i.ot amongst the white-gloved oreatures who, one after an- other, solicited tho honour of Miss Farthin- gale's hand in the giddy waltz, and her fa^ ther's avowal that the baronet had not been se< n again confirmed her fears. I would much rather go home,' she said fretfully. ' I am tired to death Wi^h so much standing about, and have not strength for a single dance. Do go and make my excuses to Mrs. Stinso, papa, whilst I slip upstairs for my manue and bonnet.' ' Won't it look rather stranffe,yonr leaving so suddenly T' he remonstrated. ' Remember how eager you were that she should allow you to remain.' ' Well, one cannot always be accountable for one's feelings, I suppose,' was the tart reply. 'I didn't know I should be so tired. Anyway, I shall go home, and you must make the best excuses for me in your power.* No one attempted to detain them, and the father and daughter found their way back without the slightest trouble. It V£s liot much more than eight o'clock, bu t dragged her weary feet up the stair ca Ill '63 THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL. though she had heen dancing f< { hours . All the huoyauoy had left her f rsn;ie with the de- parture of the faithlens baronet. ' Why not go Htraight up to your bedroom, Selina, ainoe you are so tired ? ' laid Mr. Farthingale, as she approached the drawing- room door. ' Bei}au8e I don't choose,' she snapped in answer. ' Besides, I want Janet Oppen- heim to come with me and help me to un- dress. She will be dying to hear all about this grand wedding, and what we hare seen and done. ' She threw the door open as she spoke, and advanced into i-he room, which was brilliant - ly lighted. It appeared to be empty. But from an inner aparLment, divided from the first by folding-doors, there came a smother- ed exulamation and a start at her sudden en- Vunoe, and in another instant their issued i om it Miss Jant.t 0|jpeahein^., sleek and sm'^oth anl un ruffled as though she had beer detected reading hci- Bible, whilst behind her in the . .mi-darkaesq loomed the tall . figure of Sir Arthnr C/hasernore ! Selina was thrown off her guard. ' What are you doing here ? ' she exclaim- ed angrily. ' Doing ! dear Miss Farthingale,' replied Miss Oppenheim's meek voice, ' do you mean me, or your friend Sir Arthur ? "^ was reading when he came in, and he was po disappointed at not finding vou at home, that I ventured to t .Kgdst he should stay a little while to see if you returned. Ch, I hope I didn't do wrong I I thought you could not possibly be much later, and Sir Arthur woai>l havu been so sorry to go again without having seen you.' But Selina's mind was £nll of suspicion. She turned from Miss Oppenheim without ai.sweriug and addressed her father. ' Did not Sir Arthur understand there was to be a dance at the Stingoes' this evening, papa? ' ' I don't know; my dear, I'm sure,' btam- mered the lawyer ; ' I thought he did — but I suppose he didn't, or he wouldn't be here. Did Mrs. Stingo say nothing to you about the dance, Sir Arthur ?' ' A dance 1' replied the baronet. * No I Where? What, at her house? She must be mad to think any one could dance after such a fatiguing day. I was obliged to leave directly after the breakfast in conse- quence of business, and I came round here this evening, in hopes of seeing you and Miss Farthingale for a qniet chat over the •vents of the morning. It all went, off very wall, didn't it, Miss Farthingale? The lady looked a trifle pale, perhaps ; but Vi/ian yas quite himself, and made an excellent speech. I thoughs it was the prettiest w« ding I had over seen.' ' Oh, indeed !' said S« lioa, spitefully, am glad to hear you s \y so, but I thiokj under the circumstances, it would have wiser for you to remain as the others diJ instead of running away in that nuaoooail aVde manner directly the breakfast \r^ over. Some peuple might be ill-natun enough to infer th»t the sight of Miij' Nettleship's marriage had been too much ft you.' Sir Arthur's brow lowered. ' I should no^ have been present at all ht that been the case,' he answered. The attendance at Regina's marriaie been a very painful duty to him, but lie i not choose that Selina Farthingale shod twit him on the subject. He had not forgiven Vivian Chasemore for succeediij where he had failed, n.>r his wife for aidii anr^ abetting this success, but be hoped I had hidden hit, anger and envy from world. And that he had not been able i do so, only created a greated desire in mind for reventr against those to whom i owed i\ h imil''ai-,ioti, Mr. i'iirthinv;aie saw the baronet's comfitare and was amazed at his daught want of tact. 'Of oourieie not,' he said, with au atteni{| to smooth over Selina's rough speech, can't think what made you say snciil thing, my dear, when every one has talking of Sir Arthur's affection for cousin, and the beautiful manner in ^vh he showed it ib his spcedh today.' * Ah, well ! it is not of much conseqneod replied Selina, with attempted indiffereooj and then she turned sharply npon Ji Cppenheim. 'And pray, how lotig isj since you have taken to sitting in drawing-room in our absence, Miss Opp heim? I thought you preferred to occnj the workroom upstairs. I am sure I ' heard you say so, often enough I' ^' Oh yes, dear Miss Farthingale ! it i most charming little room, and I like| better than any in the house. I was sitt: there, reading those sweet verses of (i| Martin fnpper; but v,:.en your frieiul Arthnr arrived, 1 thought you ba(' m back, and ran down ♦" m?et you, and tin to my astonishment, J found he was alw and wished to await your return.' But the pertinacious way in which Janet mentioned 'your friend Si^ A\.. d'd not satisfy Bolina Farthingale. She| intuitively that somethine was v/rong ao| where, and was angry with herself fori being able t*^ find it out. 'Next time my friends call in my absei TilE ROOT OP ALL EVIL. 61 t waa the prettifiat w« [ S« lina, spitefnlly. a a \y so, but I think] ices, it would have nain as the others dij iway in that nuaojoail biy the breakfast ri 9 might be ill-natnn fint the sight of l\\^ ;e had been too much ft lowered. B been present at all 'm he answered. t Regina's marriase b^ duty to hiiTi, but lie ( elioa Farthingale shoni bject. He had not lasemore for succeedii] u.tr his wife for aidii iccesB, but be hoped I ger and envy from t« he had not been able f a greated desire ia gainst those to whom I n. saw the baronet's ftmazed at his daught iie said, with au atteni{j ina's rough speech, made you say snciil ten every one has ihur's affection for Siutiful manner in wh ipeedh today.* ot of much conseqnenij attempted indifferentj ed sharply upon h I pray, how lotig aken to sitting in >r absence, Miss Opn ^ou preferred to occoj lirs. I am sure I ' en enough I' iss Farthingale ! it i ;le room, and I likel he house. I was sitti le sweet verses of dj t wr.en your friend thought you bar c« I *rs meet you, and tin , I found he was al« ; your return.' ous way in which ^our friend Si' Ai'M a Farthingale. Shell ethine was v/rong soij jry with herself for i out. lends call in my aba I advise you to rY aittiug in the dark, I cannot iite.' this remark, Janet Oppenheim's pallid actually fluahed,andStr Arthur looked lb, dear Miss Farthingale,' the girl ex- sd, ' how funny you are i We had only igune into the bkck room, Sir Arthur to see the last photograph, and I to get it off the mantelpieoe ; and it [hardly worth while to nave the gas for that, was it now 7' Tell, I suppose you could have got it fourself.aud did not require ISir Arthur's Itauco. You have grown terribly weak l>f a sudden,' retorted Seliua. Phe two men looked at each other in se. It was hopeless to try and stem the ant of tho fuminine tongues Sir Arthur Ight it was time to take his leave. [l think, as you appear so tired with the ''a cerenaay, Miss Farthingale, that I say good-uight,' he observed quietly, bowed and left the room. Then la saw that she had made a great mis- f Now, you've frightened him away,' said ' father ; ' what was the use of making lb a fues about nothing ,Selina 1 The man lid have spent the reat of the evening B, if you had only left him alone.' JOh, he is not the one to blame 1' replied ' >a, tossing her head. [■Are you angry with me then, dear Miss khingale ?' demanded Jauet, with plead- jcyes. 'How could I help his coming re T He was so anxious to see you — to ik alone with you, I think — audi hadn't heart to send him away, when I con- ired that perhaps he had hardly had an >rtunity to say a word to you all day. I now that I had never come down to i him at all, but it was for yonr sake, II friend — it was all for your sake, believe il' |ut Selina would not believe. ^I suppose i^ was for my sake you were up lu the back drawing-room together, 'lad bette>* be a little less friendly on ftccouut nezi; time, that's all I have to f Oh, she won t hear me ! She won't h''<4r cried MissOppeuheim, w»:<:ping. ' Mr. rthinpale, plead my eause with her, I plore you !' f!l think we had better put off this discus- >n till to-morrow morning,' said tbe lawyer, ^o to bed. Miss Oppenbeim, and say no m ~re about it. Selina will see things in a different light when you meet again.' ' See things in adilfereni hghl I' exclaimed his daughter aogiily, as the d«ior closed upon her weeping friend. ' I shall do no such thins 1 Pnpa, there can be but one issue to this business. That girl Jeaves our house to- morrow. ' ' Just as you please, my dear ; just ar you please. But you know the diffitiultiea that stand in the way. ' ' Bother the difficulties I I will get over them ; but she liotisu't stay here a day longer. The false, deo«itlul little cat ! Cannot you see that she is trying to play a deep game with regard to Sir Arthnr ? She wanto to vet him for herself, with her languishing eyes and pensive downcast looks. How I hate all Hoiueu and their double ways I' Seleina was pacing up and down the house, in ber fury. ' My ositiou that ahe is penoileaa. It will be easy to profess to have reoovered the money when I tlnd myself in a position to pay it. But you must be " my lady" before that happens, Seliua.' But the smile with which his daughter greeted this asseveration waa not quite so couHdeui as usual. OHAPTEU IV. ' MARRY MISS FARTIIINOALB I I OOVLDN't DO IT I' Belina was as good as her word { but with this difference. The night's meditation had Dot caused her to hesitate in the slightest degree in her determination to turn Janet Oppeuheim from the house ; but ahe had arrived at the conoluaion that it would be advidablu not to Hale that determination in aay way with her conduct respecting 8ir Arthur. 8he would appear to have entirely forgotten the unpleasantness of the evening before, and to be occupied , solely with thoughts uf the new oumpliuation that bad Arisen. As soon as ever the early post had been delivured on the following morning, therefore, she seat her maid to Miss Opprjheim's room with the announuement that she had received very important intel- ligence, and wished to see her as soon as possible. Janet hurried on her dressing gown and joined her in a few minutes. ' Oh, dear Miss Farthingale 1 ' she com- menced plaintively, ' 1 have scarcely slept & wink all night — your words made me so \. iierable. i'ray tell me that I am forgiven I I shall know no rest until I have your assurance that it is so. ' * Wiiat do you mean T ' demanded Selina with affected surprise. ' Why, this unfortunate business with Sir Arthur, of course. I ani sure I wish I had remained upstairs altogetk er, and never gone into that wretched L^-^ok di awing- room ' ' Oh, pray don't say another word about it I I thought something frightful had hap< pened, from your tragic manner. I was so tired last night that 1 can hardly remember what did happen. But we have haJ such bad uews this morning that it is enough to put anything out of one's head.' •Bad news 1 What is it?' 'Papa's aunt, Mrs. General Feasbentone who live at Plymouth— yon must have heard me spe*k of her ' Janet had never heard any such thing, but she exclaimed : ' Oh yes, yes ! Pra.y go on I ' ' She is very ill — dying, we are afraid — and she is like papa's mother, you kuow, if not more. ' ' How very sad t ' ' Isn't it T It has cut us up terribly. But we m>* t go to her at once. The case admits of no delay. If we could have caught the morning mail, we should. As it is, we must travel this afternoon.' ' But you will soon return I' ' I am afraid not. However her illnesa ends, papa srys we shall be detained snm^ time at Plymouth. And what we are now thinking of is yourself, and where to place you during our absence.' 'Why cannot I stay here, dear Miss Farthingale, and look after the house for you T' ' Oh dear no I that would never do. Our friends wouk* talk about it. You do not know how very particular we have to be in London. You would lose your character if you lived by yourself.' ' Then what am I to do — a poor orphan, without friends or a home to go to ?' 'Papa has thought of a home for you, and has already gone to make the necessary arrangements for your staying there. It is with a lady of cur acquaintance, a Miss Nether wood, who has a uharming louse and and atjadeiny, at Clarence Lodge in bt. John's Wood.' Selina could not deceive Miss Oppenheim. She saw through the * ruse' at once. ' In what capacity am I to go there ?' she asked, in a voice apparently as meek as usual. ' Well, my dear Jvnet, I need not re|«eAt to yon what I have said sootten, that though my dear father is goodness itstlf , yet you have really no claim upon hifn, and it i* hardly to be expected that he could keep you liere for a lifetime at his own expense.' ' Of course not, and I know how much I nm already indebted to Mr. Farthingale's benevolence. But still, when be has rescued that "small portion of money which he hopes to save from the wreck of'roy poor aunt's little fortune," will he not be able to repay himself for his great generosity to me ? ' demanded Miss Janet from beneath the long light lashes of her meek pale eye^. Selina coloured at the remark, innocently as it appeared to be made. ' I do not know, I am sure ; and any way, it is quite a chance if he is sucoessf nl. Meanwhile, you could not do better than THE BOOT OF ALL ETIL. Moept a borne with Miu Netherwood, wbo is litndoeu itself.' * Aa m te«olier I sappoee, MIm Farthin* g»l«?' * ! fancy yon may be aaked to do a little in that way ; bnt if bo, the duties will be rery liuht. I am sure yon will be charmed with Clarence Ltulgo. Such a lovely garden and oroqvet lawu, aud the young ladies from the Tery tirst families. I was tinished there myself.^ ' How interesting I and I tmat that the good edncatioa I received at St. Anna's College may enable me to satisfy Miss Neth' «r wood's requirements as a teacher. I think I told you iiiat my dear suut, Mrs. Math rs, was really tduoatiiig me t'ur the position of governesB, uulil her grandson died, aud she considered there was no further necessity for it,' said Janet Oppeuheim, lixing her eyes upon Seliua's face. ' How much does she know^^r not know ?' thought that Udy, as uhe turned uneasily •way. * How soon will you be ready to start for Clarence Locge T ' she asked presently. ' Oh, whenever yon wish ic, dear Miss Farthingale; directly after breakfast, if con- venient to yuurself. I have little to pack, you know,' with a humble smile, ' and my few poor poBsebsioni will soon be put to- gether, fiut how shall I ever, ever thank you for all your uoodness and hospitality to me ?' said Miss Janet f^veutly, as she raised her handkerchief to her eyes and rushed from the rouui. Helina was astonish od at the readiness with which her prop* jal had been acceded to. She would have b<4en still more as- tonished, perhaps, had she seen Miss Janet Oppenheiiii's beliaviouA wh m alone in her own room. ' So 1 am to go 1' she said between her teeth. ' Very good, Miss Farthingale ; very, good. Your reason is clear enough to me. And so I wili go,but I'll take someone with me, or my name's not Janet Oppeimeim I I suppose you think St. John's Wood is too tar off to make an appointment from, aud that there are no such thmgs aa pillar-pusts thece. But I fancy yon will And you are rather out of your reckoning,my dear. You had better have kept me under your own eye by a vast deal, and so hod your cheating old father. But I'll be a match for the pair of you yet, althougii I am not so much indebted to Mr. Farthingale's benevoleuoe and hospitality.' Ho one who had seen Janet Oppenbeim descend to the breakfast-room an hour after- wards, meekly clad in his morning robes, with her coluurless hair banded smoothly on hei forehead, would have credited the amount of itiBgiog lareMni with whieh she had delivered the fortgoiag neech when tker* waa no one bat herMlIto uaten to it. Bat •he waa •■ vioioas in her temper and dit« position aa Selina Farthiogale,and a thonaand times more dangerous, becaose she nad acquired the facility of oonooaiiog what ah* felt. Mr. Farthingale, having itriotlj obeyod the instructions of his daughter, waa enabled by eleven o'olook to sen«i her a telegram from hia office in the city, aaying that Alias Netherwoud was ready tu receive Miae Oppeuheim at any moment. The fact is, tne mistresa of Clarence Lodge had many bnainesa dealings with Mr. Farthingale's tirm, aa to that Kentleman'a trust waa con- tided the payment for more *L«n one of her pupil's education ; and it was to her inter- est to oblige him in any way that waa poa- aible. So that she had readily consented to receive Misa Oppeuheim aa an extra teacher, her board and lodging to be avoepted in return for her services, aud her allowance fur dr<>Me to be paid by Mr. Farthingale until he waa able to make lome more permanent ar- raneements on her behalf. The little lawyer did not feel quite easy when he had completed the tianaitction, tor he was not so sure of his self- elected ward aa S lioa seemed to be. However, one thing waa certain, the two girls could not continue under the aame roof after what had taken place the evening before, and all he hoped waa that Janet might eome to a know- ledge of the true atate of her affairs until he found himaelf in a better poaition to aououut for ihom. He was thinking a great deal on the subject, wondering if his dau^thter would ever marry the baronet, and if so, what were the best means by which to hasten such a blessed consummation, when Sir Arthur him- self entered the grimy little office. ' Come in. Sir Arthur, oome in I' exclaimed his would -b« father-in-law, aa he hnartily grasped his hand ; ' it is not often we seo you here, is it 7 You're more of a West- end bird than an Eaat-end — eh. Sir Arthur ? But I suppose you've come on some of Mr. Vivfan Chasemore'a business, since he ia not here to transact it for himself.' 'No, Mr. Farthingale, I have not. Strange as yon may think it, I am here to consult you about my own. I should have spoken laat night, perhap., had it not been for the un- toward little circumstance that parted us. I trust Miss Farthingale has recovered her fatisue of yesterdny' Which meant. 'I trust that Miss Far- thingale has recovered her abominably bad M THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. t«mp«r,' but the fathar did not take it lo. U« ooly read io the words aoxiaty for Heliuft'e welfare, aud begaa to thiak the time had arrived for him to put in a r.ord on her buhalf. ' Thank yon, Sir Arthur, thank yon. My daughter ia quite ^rell again this morniug, f>by«iaally ipoakiug, though a little upaet itUl rum the event yon aUude to. Hhe hae beau to kind to Miu Op(»enheim altogether too indulgent aud geueruua — and the girl'e ingratitude hae naturally atfeoted her. But •he ie etruggling agaiuet uer feelings— bravely —bravely r Sir Arthur did not know what anewer to make to this haraugue. He intenslv dis- liked Selina Farthingale, and oould not ttuderstand in what way Janet Oppenheimbad been ungrateful, so he turned the subject. 'l have oome to you, Mr. Farthingale, aoouer than to a stronger, because you know all about our family affairs, aud will under- stand the reasons that may have led me to this neoeasity. Tho fajt is, I am in a bit of a hul<9, and I wont you to pull me through. ' 'A bit of a hole. Sir Arthur I Do I understaud you to mean you are in debt ?' 'Weill very sligbtly— nothing when you oome to hgures. .ouly a few hundred pounds. But you see duriug those months that my oousin Viviau whs uut turthooming, and I naturally hoped— i mean I naturally feared — that he might never be heard of again, and my arandfatiier's fortune would revert to me, 1 let out rather mor>, than had been my custom, or than was, perhaps, prudent of me, and the consequence is, 1 hud myself a little in arrears. ' Mr. Farthingale no longer 'began to think' that thu was the opportunity to introduce Selina's name, lie felt sure that it was so, and that he would be able to make terms that the baronet would jump at. What a surprise for his daughter should he be able to tell her at dinuer-time that the bargain was concluded, aud the accepted suitor would wait on her that evening 1 What a splendid and victorious wind-up for a day so unfortu- nately begun I But he kept all these emo- tions to himself. ' Well, Sir Arthur,' he replied placidly, ' aa J v« hat can I do for you ?' ' You can help me, Mr. Farthingale, if you will. Lend me hve hundred pounds at your own rate of interest, or direct me to some one who can do so.' , ' And your security of payment 7' ' Well, you must take that as you find it. You know what my little principal consists of, and that and my note of hand ought to be be sufficient for a friend.' ' Which I trust you consider roe. Sir Arthur. Indeed, I am disposed to do s great deal more for you than what you ask. Ynur disappointment about the fortune— for it must have been a titsappoiiitment— ami the noble way in which you have born* it, have excited my utmost pity and a'lnii* ration. But doubtless you will liave your reward.' ' I (iun't see where it is to oohie from,' returued the baronet gloomily as be thought ot his oousin in possesaioa not only of tii« money, but of the woman whom he hi. I hoped to call his own. * Oh, there's no saying I* cried the lawyer, cheerily. ' You remember the old adage,8ir Arthur, " There' as good fish in the sea ever came out of it," and it's as true o( | women as it is ot money.' ' Tell me where to hud as good money a« . I've lost, Farthiugale, and I'll leave tlie | women to shift for themselves.' ' But suppose they're united. Come, now I why dout you look out for a nice girl with i\ | fortune, and cut out Mr. Vivian altoKethur.' 'Easier said than dunei Heiresses dout I grow like blackberries on every bush.' ' Not Rothschildki, perhaps ; but I know o( I several girls with tidy little fortunes wlio would be only too pleased to exchange them for the title of "my lady." ' And meanwhile I am being dunned for | lack of five hundred pounds. Can yor ac- commodate me, Mr. farthingale, or oan yun I not T ' 'Certainly I oan — moreover I will — butj like all money-lenders, I make my condi- tions. And the first is that I should like i to have a little talk with you about your own affairs. Be candid with me, aodi tell me the truth. Are you really em- barraseed ? ' ' Only to the extent I have mentioned to | you. I have always been a careful man and I lived within my income. I hope Vivian may| do the same.' ' I doubt it. Sir Arthur I He has married a wife with extravauaot ideas. "Set il beggar on horseback ' and we all know I where he rides to. But I beg your pardou !J Perhaps I am trespassing on your feelingi.! The rumour is that you would have m»ie| Miss Nettleship into Lady Chasemore had| she been agreeable to the ohaniKe. ' Like all mean-spirited men, Sir Arthur | felt ashamed of the charge and denied it. ' Rumour lies as usual, Mr. Farthin^ala I What Mrs. Viviau Chasemore may harel wished or thought of, before my cousiol appeared on the scene, is another question ;| but the best proof of my intentions towardil l">r, is that they were never carried out,| lontider me, Sir iapo««d to du » n what you mIc. the fortaue— for ppoiiitmeub— Kud yuu h*V0 horn* pity aad a'hiti- I will l»»ve your to oohie from,' ily M he thouglit not only of lae I whom he hivl cried the lawyer, the old adage.Sir | ish in the tea ai knd it'e •■ true o( |THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. an good money a« ad I'll leave tU« I Ivee.' , lited. Come, now ! ■ a nioe K^rl with ^ Vivian altoKether.' li HuireHsea dout every bush.* l ape ; but I know n( ,ttie fortunes wlin to exchange them I being dunned for nds. Can yor ac- lingale, or oan yunl •cover I will — but] make my ooniU.| that I should like j ,h you about your I id with me, amll re you really em- have mentioned toj a careful man audi I hope Vivian may ■I He haa married I ideaa. "Set i nd we all know [ beg your pardou ! { on your f eelingi. would have made »dy Chaaemore had ihant(e.' _, men, Sir Arthur ^e and denied it. I d, Mr. Farthingale.! laaemore may have I before my couaini another question ;| intentiona towards I never carried out,| Iftiiongli th«r« WM •Twy opportanity of ingea' * I am gla4 to hear yoa say it, for thonah Jibe report reaohld ns through Miss Nettle* lip (and ladies, yoa know, do sometimes Uow their imaginations to run away with ^em), and it appeared to mo meet impro* khie that she shoald have refused your fer, yet the idea gave a great deal of an> BORSary pain in other quarters, and vexed le in proportion. ' In other quarters I I did not know that ly feelings were held of so muoh oouse- lenoe by anybody.' Ah, we are very blind. Sir Arthur, and les but little of what is going on around But I should like to see you married a nioe girl with money. That would be I far better way of setting out of your Buniary diffionltiee than appealing to me.' It would indeed,' replied the baronet, loking his cane and staring viksantly before im, as though he were acquieacing in au lea that would never be carrieen't I made that plain enongh to yon ly T She's been soft about yon for a time, Sir Arthur ; but to rectify her (ness, you shall have twenty thousand Inds down in hard oash upon your Idingday, and a furnished house beside ; if you can't make that aiuu your title yuar profession carry yoa ahead of 6 Kir oousia and hia wife, why voa'ro nottbt g-head«d fellow I teko yoa for.' 'Marry Mias FMrthioralo T' exolaimod Sir Arthur, quiokly. ' Oh, I ooalda't do it i' He hiA boon quite in •ameet when h* said he shoald like to marry an heirees, bal he had not dreamt of Selina Farthiogalo M he made the avowal. Say what we will of them, men do not nearly so often sell them* selves for filthy lucre aa the other half d creation do. They like luxury, doabtleM. and a woman loses none of her charms ia their vyes from being rich ; but it is only th« lowest and most unmanly of their sex who will deliberately relinquish all their drsana of beauty in exchange for wealth. Thsf always want an heiress, but it must be aa heireaa of their own choosing, endowed with eveiy charm and virtue under the aun—a kind of fabuloua creature which they end bjr never meeting at all. Sir Arthur, from hia diaappointment of loeing Regina Nettleship with her fair atately grace, nad no relish for the aallow complexions and angular proportions of Selina Farthingale^ and he was perfectly sincere in blurtms oai the unpalatable truth that he 'conldn'l marry her.' ' Couldn't do it ?' echoed the father. 'Then what on earth have yon been driving at all this time T' ' Not a marriage with your daughter, sir. It was the very furthest thing from my thoughts. Have I ever said or don« anything to make yon imagine otherwise V ' No, Sir ArtHur, no i not until these last few minutes.. But when you told me so plainly that you wanted to many a girl with money, I thought you must have your eys upon Selina. ' 'Indeed, Mr. Farthingale, you do m« too muoh honour. I have never even aspired to the idea. I am not worthy of Miss Selina, and even if I were so, the fact of my not having yet paid her any. attention would be a serious bar to our diacussing the matter.' ' I thought the attentions might oomo afterwards,' aaid the discomfited lawyer: ' however, of course, if you haven't a mind for the girl, it's no use saying any more abont it. But you won't let this go any further will you ?' ' You may trust me implioity. But how about the five hundred pounds T' ' There it ia you aee I You might h*FS made it thouaanda, and welcome, if we could only have arranged this little matter between as. And I thought it would have been a perfect sodaend for you, particularly when yon think of all the practice I could hare put into yonr hands. ■'r- 60 THE ROOT OF ALL EVIU 'It woald indeed, under other oironm- dlMioei ; bi^t witboQt aft'ection, yon see, Mr. FlMihui|(»le, even money loeea it* vahie. I am rare yon muat care toe much for your charming daughter to wi: i to riikher happi> ' Oh, prty say no more abont it,' replied tho other, ae he hid his ihamed face amoDgst hut papera. ' You ihall have the lum yon require tO'inorrow, Sir Arthur, if yon will bring me the proper seonrities; and itow.ae I have a great deal of work on hand, I will bidyou "good- morning."' The men akook hands and parted, both wishing heartily that the interview that had JQst passed had never taken plaoe. Mr. Farthinmle intended to keep it a secret from SeUna, but after a few weeks her fretfulness at the baronet's continued abeence from their house caused so many disHensions between them, that in a mo- ment of irritation he told her the whole sterr. Her rage was terrible I The idea that her father, by what she termed his ' uieddlioK interferenoe,'had blighted her prosp^uts in life and spoiled the game she had just cleared the course to play made her lose all self-command. She called Mr. Far. thinnle by every opprobrious epithet she could think of, and so angered him that he made up his mind he hM been a fool to devote his life and wealth to her as he had done,and that thenceforth he should be v/iaer to. think more of his own comfort and less of that of his daughter. 80 Mr. and Miss Farthingale (after the very serious quarrel that followed Sir Arthur's rejection of the lawyers overtures) commenced life anew, auH under very diffe- rent auspices. Each took the path that seemed best, without any consideration for the feelings of the otiiher, and the result was an almost total sepan.tien. Selina could neither forgive nor forget the fatal tormina* tion to her father's interference in her love affairs ; nor ti, the insolence with which she had greeted his failure. Gradually but surely, therefore, they drifted apart, tc find sepak-ate friends, pur- suits, and pleasures. And it never entered Miss Selina's elever heJsd to imagine that without her watchful eye to foresee danger, there was a probability of her father drift- ing into something still worse than separa- tion. CHAPTER V. *'TWAa I OIVl 'IM UP.' The end of autumn was not the most healthy part of the year for Drory Lane, nor the most profitable time for Mrs. Bell's trad* ing. Perishes, nectarines, and grapes were luxuries too costly fcr the purses of her re* gttlar customers ; aidded to which sundry un« welcome vi»itors, in the shape of dineaaes en- gendered b;^ the hot summer and the unripe ^ruit, were in the habit of visiting Drury Lane and it«i environs aboutthat period, and making its inhabitants rather shy r>f all sorts of ve^e* tables. So the little shop did not look its best. The chean flowers were all over, so was the cheap fruit, and a few huidfuls of brown filberts or a bunch of daMias was all that Mrs. Bell could afford wherewith to decorate her window. Everything looked melaRcholy, inside and out, and not a breath ci fresh air was to be obtained from the dusty street, which reeked with the smell of decaying refuse, and rang with the cries of fractions, fevered children. Bonuie drooped iu the inside parlour, and her grandmother moped behind the counter, ofteu wishing she was at rest in the Bronipton Cemetery with the two men she had laid to j sleep there. When Kit Masters had odled on three consecutive days, without receiving any fresh orders, he began to think there must be something very wrong at the little I shop in Drury Lane* ' Why, look ye here, Mrs. Bell,' he ejaoa- latedj as he removed his fur cap and scratched I his head : 'this won't do, ve know ! What'i come over you md the shop that ye don't want nothing again to-day ? I've got as fine nuts and apples as you'd wish to see, instl fresh out of Kent, and pertates as fall to I pieces on :.he fork. What on hearth's gone! and come to ye that ye don't want 'em ? ' Oh, it's of no use your worrying' me arterl that fashion. Kit Masters 1 I don't want 'em,! and that's enough for' you • There's no ontl comes to buy 'em now. What with the drjl season and the touch of chiilery they've 'sdl down 'ere, the bisness has fallen off dreadfrLF I'm fnre I'm quite down like abont it slLl There s nigh a sack of them last pertaters leftl yet. I can't think what the people's livinf on — but not vegetables, I can take my ostkl of that !' I ' That's a bad look out, Mrs. Bell,' repliedl Kit, scratching his hesd still more. 'ItT comes of your 'aving a shop, you see. It| don't answer all the year round. You shou!; set up a 'orse and cart like mine, and tfaeil when your cuHtomers don't come to you, yoil could go to them. Why, it's the ereat«' trouble to me to keep the vegetables for yd till I gete round to this street, I 'ave so nuui}j a-clamourin' to let 'em buj' !' ' A 'orse and cart I' repeated the old won witheringly. ' Qet along, and don't talk 1 N THB £00T OF ALL BVIL. 67 ibbbh to iM. Why, what should I do with !• 'one Mid oart, with my ouui and 'i» son rmoalderia' in thmr fpn^TM ? Who'd drive ^•m? tell t no that I Yoa niut bo olosn daft talk of vioh a thing I' ' Well, ye MO, Mn. Boll, if Bonnio ooold I broiUKhtto too mutton in onr Uffht,'twoald the making of >^ i and mo, ma'am. ^ I OMrry tm this oonaarn with you in a rablo way, ai yon may say, and you'd al« %y» have some ono tojook-artor the bian«M fhen you was ill or took 1 Here'a my 'orae ad oart— all my own propurty — and theer'a 18 shop ; and what wasn't wanted ere, Boa* ' I and I oould take round and dispoae on srwards. 'Twould be the fortin of un all, trs. Bell, and we might live to ride in cmr idgel' 'Aye, so we might, lad I and the gal's a }1 not to see it I But theer, she comes of a fcy-aotor, and what can vou expect? I ;ht die and rot afore she'd move a 'and to fp me !' ' This was a very unfair assertion on the ; of the old grandmother : but she was Itish like the rest of us, and fully believed Hat she said. }he had held many suoh conversations Kit Masters, and tcj^^oted them to her inddaughter, before the day on which ie groped her painful way home- Is, and fell fainting on the floor. The woman's heart was touched then, and Bnthe girl assured her, and her first com- id of speech, that she would do as she led ana marry Kit Masters, her heart touched still more. Her gratitude and ;ht at the intelligence were so great, that lie would have found no opportunity of sting, even had she wished to do so. in truth she was indifferent, or she {ht she was. 10 bridegroom' eleot was cautioned by Bell not to be too rough in his wooing, he should frighten the girl into with- ring her consent again • and acting on I advioe, he crtntinuMl so to behave him- las not to extort more than an occasional jbions objection from Bonnie's lips when ipted to play the lover somewhat too evident indifference and aversion often an oath from him ; bat he consoled ' with the belief — so larKoly indulged ' men better educated than he was — that jo would amend all that dissatisfied in courtship, and that the wife would lenly blossom forth into something en- V different from the maiden. Why men Id deceive themsolves with this idea it is Bult to say. Immon sense might teach them that the girl who shrinks intoitiTcly from their bnMM is hwrdly likely to proT* a passi« and devoted wife ; bat everything that dia* pleasea Uieu before marriage ia set down to maidenly retioenoe and modeety, whioh the magic nog is to wt richt— that rin^ alaa I whioh usudly proves its magio by showing up two people in their true o(Mohr8» and bind- ing them fast tcMjether, in order that they msy be separated for evermore. The wooing of Christopher Ifasters and Mary Bell went on in a very proaaio and oom- mon-plaoe manner. I believe the chief reason the girl had for consenting to the marriage was the idea of getting away from the oloee rooms and street tbat seemed to be stifling her, and driving round the town and into the country in Kit Masters' light spring- cart. She had several of these drives aoring the weeks that the banns werr being oalled, and the pleasure o! them seemed to put new life into her veins. It is true that she often sighed as they came in sight of the still, deep-flowing river, and wished she lay dead and cold beneath the water ; but her sorrow was more a pensive than an active grief, and she was too young really to wish to die. There was no antagonism in her real life, as yet, to make that other and ideal life con* trast with it as heaven with hell. So long as we have our losses only to be« wml, it is easy to suffer ^jatiently. It is th» existent wrong that raises the demon within us, and makes the loss seem twice as great beside the hated gain. So Bonnie journeyed listlessly towards the goal of her life, an«1 heard that the banns had been cried for the third time, and the following Sunday would be her wedding-day, without visible feeling of any sort There were very different preparations made for this wedding from those that had been re- quired before Miss Regina Nettleship could be married in a manner befitting the grand- daughter of the Duke of Mudford. Mn. Bell, in her delight and ^pratitude at Bonnie's tardy acquiesence, did insist upon the girl being married in a ' real silk gown,' which hung upon her about as naturally as one of her morning dresses would have done upon a duchess ; but besides that festal attire and a new hat to ride about in his cart with Kit, there was not much alteration made in poor Bonnie's usual wardrobe. Mrs. Bell had no money wherewith to parchase bridal out* fits. When the marriage morning came and the Cr'remony (through whioh Bonnie stumbled in a dazed and absent manner, that left an impression on the parson's mind that the bride was either deaf or silly) was ccrapl9ted, the weddiQg-party, whioh inuladed Kit's THE ROOT OP ALL EVIL; fathar and mother, Mt down Id the beok parlour of Mn. Bell'i shop to dine o£f roMt pork and greens, and to drink the health of the marriM couple in gin and water. After which Kit drove them all in his care to Rich- mond, where they hired a boat and went up and down the river ; and the old people got TO' y merry %nd the gallant bridegroom quite intoxicated ; and poor Bonnie sat at one end of the boat, shrinkins visibly from the en- dearments of her lord and master, and won- dering why people were always so anxious to get married, and if she should ever be ■o happy again as she was in the old days when she lived alone with her grandmother, and kept the rooms clean for Mr. Alfred Waverley ! Ah, Bonnie, not much need to ask I The veriest tyro in the history of human na- ture might have answered you 'No.' It had been decided that as Mrs. Bell's house had riore accommodation in it thaa she required the newly-married couple should take up their abode with her. And Bonnie, frightened when the time came of leavins her srandmothpr,had dung to this idea with avidity. Mr. Kit Masters, therefore, became the responsible tenant of the rooms which had once been occupied by Alfred Waverley and the spot in which her first sense of love had been awakened was the scene of Bonnie's honeymoon. Do the lower classes ever love and mourn and feel in proportion with their higher-bom brethren ? The^ have not bfleu reared to think and act deliberately, and we all know what the sensitive flower of li ve is degraded to when it is stripped of refinement. Do any amongst them lo^e with their heads as well as their hearts T I have watched and ques- tioned them closely, in their various joys and trials, and I doubt whether they can either sorrow or rejoice with the same power of feeling as those who have more leisure to devote to a contemplation of themselves. Had a sentleman fallen in love with Bonnie BeU, he would have invested her with a thousand attributes unseen to the common eye, and bred of his own affection. The girl was really pretty and modest, and sweet in voice and manner. Her eye had the pensive tint of the harebell, and her cheek waR like a wild rose flushed at the heart. Ber supple figure might have supplied a painter's model, and thfre was a aelioaoy about her smooth skin and a refinement in Hm low, dreamy tones of her voice thatraised her far above her fellows. There was an elevation also in the mind that ouuld cherish a fancy anuh as she had oouceived for Alfred Waverley, that, well directed and wooed back to its legitimate resting place, wonld have transformed the girl into a good and grateful wife, if not a loving one. But Kit Masters, coarse in breeding and manners, was not the man to effect this. In his eyes, Bonnie was nothing more than any other pretty girl— a trifle less, perhaps, luioa she was absent and listless, which are bad qualities for the mistress of a woiking man's home. * He thought her a' main good-lookin' lass.' She had 'took his fancy, 'aslieexpresed it, and he didn't see why she shouldn't be as useful a wife as any when she was ' stirred up a bit. ' But had any one suggested to the costermoneer that there were depths of feel- ins in the neart of his new possession that only needed culture and education to trans- from the girl into a poetess or a painter, he would have thought his informant either drunk or mad, and liave jeered at the idea as an incomprehensible piece of nonsense. In his eyes, women were animals, either more or less agreeable to view, that had to be coaxed or coerced according to their ho* haviour. Bonnie was a woman ; ' ergo,' Bonnie was an animal, placed in his power and tc be treated a« his superior judement direc\'ied. This was the style of Kit Master's reason- ing. As to Bonnie herself, her married life,eTen in those first days of rough wooing and in- dulsence, became a horror to her. She .flew to her grandmother full of complaints and entreaties for redress ; but the old woman naturally assessed her wrongs at the nsnid worth of matrimonial grievances, - and so Elainly pointed out to her that she had set er feet on a path from which there was no return, that the poor girl sank into a species of apathetic despair that never afterward! forsook her. She soon became afraid of her husband — afraid of his easily roused passion — his coarse oaths and vituperation. — still more of his rough caresses and compli- ments when he had recovered his temper again. Her greatest pleasure was taken in . M daily drives they had in the spring-cart, and to be demiyed of going rounds with him became her greatest punishment. Never mind how early Kit had to be in Corert Garden market, in order to secure the beet and freshest vegetables and fruit, Bonnie was sure to be up and dressed in time to aocom- pany him, and ^ Masters's pretty wife ' ynit soon as well known amongst the Tendon •• himself. She enjoyed seeing the oonntry cars, hi|^ piled with oabbages,oanliflowers,lettn.'es and greens of all descriptions, come rolling in to take up their appnmted stand on the .^arV^t pavement and unload their itaeke of goode. THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. [ood and ling and this. In than any kpa, lino* are bad ing man's td-lookin' expreaed In't be as itirred up mL to the i» of feel- wion that to trans* i painter, uat either the idea nonhenae. Js, either %t had to their he* k>nnie was kod tc be direc\'-ied. r's reasca- d life,eTen Qg and in* I She flew faints and d woman the nraal and so had set le no hre was a species afterwards afraid of ly ronsed tnperation nd compli* his temper taken in prinS'CArt, ■ wira him t Never in Corert re the best Bonnie was itoaooom- wife' wa« vendors •■ oars, high ittuv'ss and tiling in to the .^larVrt I of gOOdSi She became interested in choosing the best apples and pesn aad oranges, and learned so, qawkhr to distingrish between bad and good tnat Kit soon left her to make the fruit par- chases by herself. She was a different girl here to what she had been in heir grand- mother's little shop. The life around her, the chaffing and ohaflfering, ronsed her languid brain into something like action, and put her to her mettle. But still she was vaguelv and restlessly unhappy. When the shop'.had been supplied for the day, and Kit and she had had thezr breakfast, they would leave Mrs. Bell to attend to her castcmers, and wander forth again with a cart full of fruit and vege tables, to visit all the streets where Masters was known, and dealt with on his own ao- count. Some would have considered it very monotonous and tiring to occupy the wooden seat of the cart all day, sitting atill sometimes for half an hour while the costeraionger was talking with an old cnstomer and persuading her to buy more than she required. But Bonnie never felt weary. She was straining her eyes all the time to catch sight of a form they longed to gaze on. Every now and then, as tiiey urove round a corner or crossed a street, her heavi would be jerked backward to regard some passing figure ; or, going home in the dark, she would peer in the foot- passengers' faces as though she would devour their kneaments in the gloom. Her r>oods did not long pass unnoticed by Kit Masters. More than once he asked her gruffly who she was ' cocking her eye at, arter that fashion ; ' and she had shrunk from the question and murmured some unintelliitible reply, which had only urged him to order her ' not to let him catch her doing it agen. ' One or two little quarrels had arisen from this circum- stance— one or two sullen fits, that is to say, on the part of Mr. Masters, which had resulted in fits of another gender, namely intoxication. Both Bonnie and her grand- mother had been terribly alarmed on these occasions, and the old woman had gone so far as to 4sk herself if the convenience of the "orse and cart ' was worth such a disturbance in her hitherto peaceful household. But there was nothing to be done but to bear it, as the women weepinely agreed, for tnere was only onti master in we house now, and they were two >pitif ul trembling slaves. Yet otill Bonnie's eyes roved incessantly up and down the London streets in search of Alfred Waverley, and the colour came and went on her chsittin' as glum as a howl on your seat, and Uinkin' your heyes to keep tlie tears back ? What's the meanin' of it, I say ? ' "Tain't nothing,' repUed Bonnie, through her tears. * That's lie the fust 1 How many more do ye mean to tell me ? Now, I won'e 'ave no nonsense, you know ! I'm your 'asband, and I've right a bask what what you mean by a-thiverin' and a-shakin' arter that fashion directly you claps your eyes on another feller. Ah ! ye think I didn t twi^r you, I suppose ; but I oau see through a 'ole in the wall as f ar as hany man, audi know as plain as if you'd told me with your ow^a month *.bat its that hulking obap Halfred Waverlejiias you're a blubberin' arter now.' ' Oh, don't— don't ! ' implored Bonnie. .Don't what— ye fool I Don't speak so Slain and open to your ladyahip, I suppose. )h, we're mighty inneroent and moaest, I know I We oan't throw a civil word to our 'usband, who keeps as in board and lodging like a honest woman, but we oau go a-sniv- tellin' arter a lanky oove that ai't't no man> ner of relation to us. jist beoaua^ 'e vears a fine ooat and 'm got a diamind ring upon 'is finger.' ' I tell yon it is not so t ' oried Bonnie, passionately. '^ ' That's lie the second I I know all your capers just as well as you know 'em your^ self, and it's no use trving no dodges with me ; and if yon do I'll make you pay for it with a rope's end. So now you've heard my mind about it.' ' I hate you I ' said the girl, turning wrathful eyes upon him. ' I dessay vou do. Tht tS nothin' noo. Most wives ate their 'usoands. It's the fasshun nowadaya. But you'd best, tidnk twice aboat tellin' me so. I're found oa^ the reason of yoar h'aira. I 'aU snspeoted it all along, bnt to*day has nude me sure. Yoa're sweet upon that Halfred Warerley, and yon tuk me just beoause yon found yon oouldn't 'ave 'im. Isn't it now ? ' * I shan't tell yon I Yon are cruel to me. It's no business of vours, whether or no^' she gasped between her sobs. ' Oh, ain't it no business of mine I Well soon settle that matter. Anyways I knows it, and now I've got a bit of news for you in return. You was main out up, warn't yon, when that chap was found out to be a lord or summat, and ■ left your grandmother's lodgings, and you didn't see Im no more t Well, then, 'twas I give 'im up. 'Twas I as see the advertiMment fust and the reward offered, and went and give 'is description and whereabouts to the lawyers, and set 'em on 'is track, and got fifty pounds down for the information. Warn't that prime ? And 'twas mainly on account of that fifty pounds that your grandmother pushed on our marriage ; and it's part on it as you wears on your back in the shape of that new cloak. So you see I've 'ad my share ont of Mr. Halfred Waverley as well as you, my gal, as it's only fair as I should 'ave. And now, what do you say to hall that ?' What she said was to tear the cloak off her shoulders and trample it under her feet. What she said was to turn eyes npon her husband, glaring with fury and impotent revenge, before she cast ners<)lf headlong upon the sofa and burst into a storm of passionate tears. ' Oh, that won't be no manner of use V con- tinued Kit Masters in a bullving tone. 'I ain't done with yon yet, my lady, nor with Mr. Halfred Waverly neither.' He took the little clock she prized so much up in his hands as he spoke and dashed it on the ground, where it was smashed to atoms ; then, walking int<^ the next room, be deliberately tore the painted pictures in ribbons from the wall, and cast them in shreds upon the floor. ' Kanytbinf^ mere of Mr. Halfied Waver* ley's ' he inquired joooeely ,as he returned to the sitting-room, * Ha t a picter or two,' treading them beneath his heel as he spoke, ' And now I think we've pret^ well finished with that gentleman and 'is belongings. What do you say, ma'am ?' he added, as ne sat down by Bonnie on the sofo and lesrad into her face. She sprang into a sitting posture and qia' at him. The act roused him to fnry, and he struck her a violent blow upon the aide o THE BOOT or ALL EVIL. fl inipMtad TvftUy, onndyon b1 torn*, r or no** 1 1 We'U 1 1 knowi [or yon in rn't yott, be » lord dmotber*! no more t TwmIm iO reward esoription ad set 'em down for net And ty ponndi I on onr 1 we»n on cloak. So r. Helfred IB it's only , what do I cloak off r her feet. ijpon her impotent headlong ■torm of UM V oon* tone. *I nor with priced lo >oke and it waa int«« the painted andoaat Waver, tnmedto or two,' ■poke. Ifimihed longinn. led, aa he id leered »andapat , and he e aide o the head, which made her aink down to her former poeition with a low moan. We hare atarted the rariona peraonagee of thia atory upon their separate careers. Some appear already to have loet the same, others to have won. Bat is there reuljr so much di Terenoe after all io the positions which aie allotted to each haman creatures t Is there any joy in this world aomingled with sorrow — any sorrow which has not its modicnm of relief t Vivian Ohasemore, Re* gina Ncttleship.and Kit Masters have attain- ed the jpriaea they aspired to; Sir Arthur, Selina Farthingale, and Bonnie Bell have been worsted in the race. The little lawyer has quarrelled with his daughter; Lady vVilliam is left grumbling alone in her apartments ; and Janet Oppen* heim has been banished to Clarence Lodge. No one seems to be in the same position or to entertain the same hopes they did four months before, except it oe the greengrocer's old widow, who has learned to look for noth- ing but the grave. It is the safest hope for any of us to in* dulge in, since it the only one that is certain of realization. Still, the men and women of this history have sundry changes yet to undergo before their biographer can lay down the pen that transorilMS it, and those who have had the patience to read of tlium so far, may have the curiosity to pursue their fortunes to the end. Two years and a half will have passed over each of their heads before we meet them again. jHAPTER VL *8at an olb vrixnd oallbd to &■■ hkt.* When Lady WiUiam Nettleship harl had time to settle down, after the exci'Mtment consequent upon her daughter's wedding, and to look her future ste^ily in tkir face, ■he found that sho had gained a great deal more than ahe had lost by the ^ransfor<'n»tion of Miss Begins V ettleship intrt Mrs. Vivian Ohaaemore. Five hundred a year is a sorry income on which to keep cp an appearance of respectability when one is compelled to meet from it all thu outlay attendant on the dressing and taking about of a young and fashionable lady on her promotion. But when it has to be applied only to the want of an old woman who prefers oard< parties and dinners at her neighbour's expense rather than at her own, it will go a considerable diatance. And Lady WiUiam felt the better for Begina's departure not only in the inoreaM*^ freedom ^ her panw<«trjbs0s ; a load f. ^ed lifted tmm her exisl«ao« whett her danghter'a eapionage waa ramoved. 9k» waa a very worldty and pl^aanre^iieekiag old lady, who loved gambling and late hu9rB,and would atoop to any depth to ; mode had a chai^ming little villa in Ken* sington, which, with the furniture it otm- teioed, waa all her own ; none of her frienda knew how she had come by it, any more than they knew whence she derived the money on which she contrived to live so com* fortebly ; nor did she vouchsafe to enlighten them upon either matter. The fact, now* ever, remained, and when ahe offered to let her dear Lady William share her hnmble *■ menage,' the bereaved moths'.i- consentdl to do so at once. She knew a little of the 8tyl« in which Mrs. Bunnymede lived ; of the snug litUe card^paTties ahe held which no one dreamed of breaking up 1/sfore the small hours had arrived ; of the free and eaay way in which people walked in and ont of her house and she of theirs ; of the delicate dinners she gave her friends, and the generosity with which the wine was ciron* lated at them, and decided it waa just the sort of life which would suit her best. There was ne daughter now to try and keep up the proprieties, and frown her down when ahe was going to«i far, or mercileeoly remind her of the hour every tiLie the dock afrmok. Old Lady William felt like a girl auddenly released from school discipline, as she re* cognised the delightful position Bt^ina'a marriage had plsioed her in, ami by "M w THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL. the tim* the ViviMi ChMemor«>« retarned from their wedding ^^ip, iMtty touad her per* auaently iaiitelled as »a i ornate of Mrs. RaDQymede'M house. The oiroutnetttuoe diHg^asted Bagine, end eoneiderably nr.'joyvd. iier busbaovl. Few people about town were unacquainted with the character borne by the widow of KansinK- koOf and her social proptsnsitiea rendered her most unht to be ihe tiostess of suuh a woman as Lavly William Nettleatiip. Rogina de> olared from the tir«t that no power should in- duoa her to set foot in the bouse, nor to re- •eire her mother at her o ^n, unless she came nnacoompanied by Mrs. Kunnymede. And to this determination she had relitiioasly "d- hered. It had no effect, however, in induc- ing Lady William to seek another house. The wicked old woman was only too delighted with the existence sue '^as leading. To 06 able to gamble and rouge and talk ioaadal to her heart's content, free to make wh*t acquaintances and keep what hours she ehose, was heaven to her, after the some- whftt domineering rule to which she had been M long subjecte£ Mrs. Vivian Chasemore's remonstrances and refusal to visit her only formed a fresh frievance wherewith to entertain her friends. Ler daughter's hard-heartedness and ingra- titude and pride were copious subjects for dilation and many of her hearers were really paranatied that Lady William Nettleship was a wy injured ana long-suffering mother. Ska aid not refuse to go to her daughter's kooae ; on the contrary, she appeared there mochoftener than Kegina desired, though the pride of blood forbade her letting strangers ■ee that sbe was ashamed of her own mother. A lerions difference, however, occurred be* tween them on the occasion of Lady William pleading her poverty to Vivian Chasemore, as an excuse for asking him to defray the wedding expenses. 'This is degrading,' cried Regina with flashing eye- , as soon as the two women fouud themselves alone. ' Yon know, mam- ■M, that you would be perfectly able to pay ttioee bills if you would only exercise a little •df-denial. I wonder yon could stoop to ask Vivian staoh a favour. I would have gone •pon dry bread and water for a twelevemonth int.*! 'BealljTt Regina, one would think you were talking of a stranger. I should like to know who has a better right to pay these bills than your husband 7 A man can't Mcept to marry the granddaughter of a dnke for nothing. And rolling in wealth as yon are too I I think it is you who ought to be ashamed of yourself. Yon would let your poor mother scrape and save to defray th j expenses of a marriaga that has given yon luxuries that she baa never darempt of poa* sessing.' 'It is so nnasuaI--so unheard-of a da> mand, ' continued Regina. ' It is sending ma like a beggar to his arm. You might hava been contented to know that I shall be no further expense to you, and at least have sparpd me this.' ' Oh I if you are goiut; to make such a ri« dioulous fuss over a trifle, my dear, I shall take my depa^ ture. It is only five hun'.lred pounds, and you have an many thousaikds, However, let us say no more about it I I ought to have been prepared to meet with insult and ingratitude at your hands I ' 'I would rather have been married in a print dress than have been subjected to this humiliation,' repeated her daughter. ' Oh yes 1 that is all very fine in theory, but it would have looked well in practice, would it not, for the granddaughter of Lord Mudford to have .had a trousseau like a housemaid T However, we are not likely to agree upon the subject, Regina, and there- fore I shall leave you to think it over by yourself.' Vivian, however, could not allow the mat* ter to rest there, and before long a cheque for the amount due found its way from his hands to those of his mother-in law, and he often thought afterwards that the es- trangement which the transaction made be* tween the mother and daughter had been cheaply paid to.?. Lady William Nett\eship, when we meet her two years and a half afterwards, had not entirely given up calling at Regina's house ; but she went there so seldom that they were very little troubled by her company. She had quite relinquished the undesirable habit of popping in at all times, whether they had friends or were alone ; neither did she intrigue to procure invitotions to the houses at which they visited, where she might glorify their relationship by expatiatins on the attractions and virtues of her daughter and son*in-iaw to all who would listen to her. On the contrary, she kept rarely closely to the villa in Kensington, where ahe and Mrs. Runnymede entertained all sorts of people- good, bad and indifferent^ any one in fact who would accept their hospitality on their n^n conditions, or were too ignorant of the repntetion in which their parties were held to be prudent enough to refuse it. Several of the oldest mixed with them still, attracted by Lady William's title or Mrs. Runnymeda'a excellent housekeeping, and amongst them were the Maodoagal of Maodougal, Mr, and Mrs. Stingo, and Selina Farthingale. It is easy to sea what drew these people THE ROOT OV ALL EVIL. 7t trail yon t of poa- of ft de- DdiBgma iht have U be no Mt haro loh a ii« , I abaU I hnn^lred toaiaiida, b iti I leet with ■ I ' ried in • id to this • t theory, practice, r of Lord u like • likely to id there* t over by ' the mat* a oh«qae from hia law, and t theea- made be* tad been we meet I, had not house ; hey were oy. She lie habit ley had did she bonnes might Aina on iaugbter in to her. lely to >nd Mrs. ipla— in faol m their It of the •re held Several iraoted edo'a it them r, and peopla thitkar. The Maodongal, Uke Lady William herself, had ever been famous for oondesoand- ing to eat a dinner or a supper anywhere, so long aa she had not to piay for it The Stingoea, who were still strumling to attain a position superior to their mrth and still failing to attain it, could oot afford to drop the aoqnaintanoeship of one title, hcwever imall ; and Miss Farthingale, whose home at this present moment was more lonely and dull than it had ever been before, was eager to preserve a footing in any house which entertained male visitors. And thoi»h the gentlemen who frequented Mrs. Runny- mede's card- parties were not as a rule the youngest or gayest of their sex, there was no knoiving where a stray son or nephew might be induced to accompany them, nor what chances of a settlement might not be lost by non-fcttendanoe. It was in March, therefore, more than two years after Regina's wedding, that a little group of ladies were gathered in the drawing* room of the Kensington villa, anx- iously awaiting the advent of the men, who oame not. The weather v^s bitterly cold, and Lady William looked blue even through her rouge, aa she drew nearer to the hre and held Selioa Farthingale's hand between her own, for the sake of the warmth she derived from it. * I am afraid we shall have no party to- night, Runnymede I' she remarked to the other partner in the firm. ■ Selina ipiys it is snowing fast, and she had the fereiilat diffi- enlty in getting a cab:' ' It must be inches thick already, Mrs. Runnymede,' chimed in Selina, 'and it's freezing into the bargain. I wouldn't have stirred from home myself for anybody but you and dear Lady William.' * Well, my dear, if the men don't come, we must do without them, and have a rubber by ourselves. There are five of us, you see, with Mrs. Macdou^al and Mrs. Stingo, so we shall manage nioely. But we won't give S'lve them up just yet. I should think eneral Playlair and Sir Cunningham Morse were sure to come. And what about your papa, Selina ? ' said Mrs. Runnymede, who was already viry watery about the eyes, though it was but eight o'clock in the even- 'Oh I I Lnow nothing of papa,' exclaimed Miss Farthingale, tossing her head. * I see less of aim every day I live. He's got some friends of his own, I suppose , any wi^ he tells me nothing about them, though I be- lieve he spends half his time there ! ' ' ^hata pity 1 Such a clever man too, and so faaoinating I Just the person oalou- latad to make a happy home. And than to throw himaolf away upon strangers. It must make you very uneasy, dear.' ' I don't trouble myself much about the matter. I think papa is a very overrated man. He may be smart in his profession, but he give* me very little of his cleverness at borne,' retorted Selina, who retune'l a vivid impression of what ' papa ' had ef- fected by meddling in her matrimonial afiEairs. ' Have you been to Premier Street ? nquired Lady William ; Premier Street being one of those fashionable throrough* fares that intersect Portland Place and the looality in which Vivian Chasemore had s^'t- tied down with his wife. ' No. Have they returned home yet ? ' ' Yes ! nearly a week ago 1 Regina says she was so tired of Nice, but she had better have stayed a little longer. She feels the cold bitterly here.' ' She must indeed t How is she in health?' ' I think her looking delicate, but vou know Regina's way t She will never allow that she is ill. And Mr. Chasemore seems perfectly easy about her.' ' Ah ! that a not saying much. Husbands usually are ! ' 'I was there this aftemo^n.' continued Lady William, ' but I did no stay long, as they were in such coafusioi . A number of oases had just come up from the Custom- house, filled with curiosities that Mr. Chase- more has brought froin abroad. He seems to be very extravagantly inclined. And then, who should arrive in the middle of it all but his cousin Sir Arthur ! ' ' Sir Arthur 1 ' repeated Selina, with a start ' Yes : the first time they have seen him for a twelvemonth. He has been to Madeira and the Cape and Algiers, and Heaven knows where beside. I thought there was never much love lost between the cousins since my daughter refused the baronet, but they seemed quite pleased to meet. And Sir' Arthur is to be their guest, I understand until his chambers are vacant a^ain.' Seliua Farthingale became quite fluttered. She had long since ceased to mourn over the baronet's delinquency, for three years is a severe trial of constancy for a fancy bhat was never founded upon faith ; but the remem • branoe of his rejeetion of her proffered hand had still thoMfWer te sting her, and if she retained one'It'-r>n(; feeling in respect to him it was the desire to be revenged for his in- difference. fjfi ' Sir Arthur staying in Premier Street ! ' she observed in ja voice that trembled, spite ^H t I III m 74 TBI ROOT OF ALL EYIU r Mn. An of all har |Mica to pravMil it. *OoiMtolook •(tor his proporty, I ntppooo, and to mo thot it ioproparly oarod for/ ' His proporty, door 1 What do yon i * Why, it wUi bo kif, won't it, if VirioD ChMomoro has no ohildron? thoro any proapeoto, Lady William ?* ' Not y ot, 1 am sorry to say. < H cnnrso I did not uko to manticn so delioato a snbjoct, lN\t I fanoy that my daughter's mind has a gTMt deal to do wiUi her health. She frets and fidgets, you know, and naturally too, for I can see that Mr. Chasomure is bi^nnning to foel fidgety also.' 'That's the woistof entailed property, isn't it r remarked Miss Farthingale. ' It's a great comfort to have it m one's own hands, as papa has his. Poor Regina I I'm snre 1 hope to goodness her wia' will be roalinet? if only to keep Sir Arthbi out ot the mone>, He's so grasping and jealous, it would just serve him right 1' ' Ah, my dear, we must make allowances for him ; it's only natural the poor younit man should feel his position. "His cousin has out him out in everything I You used to speak much more kinoUy of Sir Arthur iu olden days, if I remember rightly.' ' Used I ? Than it was" more than he deserved, for he behaved very badly to papa not long afterwards.' ' Behaved badly to your papa, did he T I wonder if that had anything to do with his leaving England? He didn't wait, you know, till the Vivian Chasemores had re- turned from their honeymoon. By the way, what has beeome of that sly4ookint( girl thst was livin/i; with you at the time — Miss Oppenhoim ?' ' Oh ! the ungrateful minx ! Papa sot her a most desirable home with a friend of ours, and went to a great deal of expense to settle her thero; and she has never written us a line of thanks since her departure. Isn't it mean ? I hate insratitude. It makes one think so !>corly of nnman nature,' ' Ah, it does indeed I ' responded Lady William, with a sigh dedicated to the remem* brance of her daughter. ' But you intend to call on Regina, I suppose ? I am sure she will be deliahted to see you. She is Tory^ lonely, you Know. He is so much away at his club and societies.' ' Of course I shall call ! Though she must have everything money can procure to amuse and distract her.' ' You are right there, my dear I And she loves it too well— a great deal too well t She showed me a set of furs to-day that must have coet her several hundred pounJls 1 And I am wearing my old cloak fcr the Ihir^ wintor. Snoh inoongmities as thoro /MTo in this world i ' * W'jat oan yo want mair, Leddy Wool* liam ? ' intorpMod the oraokod voice M the Maodongal, who uunally sported an old Scotoh woollen shawl that had aeon the wear of ten winters : ' it's a varra gudo oloak that ye wear, and must have ooat a pretty bawbee in its day. Tho world soona to me to go daft nf tor cfothaa that are made to be thrown away before they show tho least seogn of ago.' ' Ah, Mrs. Maodongal, it is not everybody that oan afford tc dress as plainly as yon do. No one needs to be told who Mrs. Maodon- gal is.' ' You're rioht thvre, my leddy. A Mao- dougf >f M*'" ug* couldn't <'.rap his clans- biep i. n)Vv. ./ ' ^ wn Re£,«.nt-stree in a sack. •?'« (V,: Wn^d we think of -not the silks ui. \ ') Still, a' that doeana amend your da :,! ■ ir gratitude. She might weel share seme c r bawbees with yo, for ye're not over-reect., as we all know.' * Fray let us drop the su bjeot I 1 1 is a very painful one,' returned L%dy William Nettle- ship ; and, indeed, at that moment the en- trance of a roan who had braved the weather-^ tnme ie longed for the lem. As Regina'e tp wesal* Tike her- M the |the lower boat en- and the me?' How •■morrow take ay ly taming Imedam?' I coloured. I* * Kb 80 long lenChMe' day an old friend oeUed to lee her, and will odl •gain in a day or two. That i« all : good- mo; uing;' i'r\d the ladv. taming aharply I'OQQd, oame foil in tIcw of SMina Far> thingale at ahe deBcended the itepOb The oonreraation Bh« had held Waa saoh an Selina coald not help some oarioaity. She waa I e or fifty ywr* ■>£ age — J. Raonymede, b\it much ith an amoant o roage on her f» b tha^ wbb oogb her spotted 'eil. -\Ibo, \.i altogether bore trioioas ai >«araDc J that wae far from ii or h jyliUe. Selina Fartb'ng^' mod* Regina's uoosaal oue tbat regarding her wit a woman of fort> ; fall- blown, like i handBomer, and and ,>earl uo«de lainly viBible he bad d^ed hn amer ' ' tak Jered who l^ia g old fi.end' oi might be, bat the footman was waiting for her to speak before he cloead the door. *I have j net heard yoa Bay tbat Mrs. Chaaemore i(. not at home, ao I will leave my card,' ehc «aid ; and shen, as nhe drew it from her oard-oaae, adde thia way, madam ?' he said, throwing open the door of a magnificent drawing-room. ' No, thank yon I I will remain here. Joat aak the qaeation for me, and give me theanawer.' The aervant demarred for a minnte, bat finally rang an apataira bell, pjid left her in Older to conaalt the ladv'a maid apoo the landing. Selina slanoed roand the hall, which waa li|(hted by atained glaaa and ornamented with apecimena of heraldry and the ataffed heada of animala. She waa thinkiv how handaomely it waa fitted np, when he' eye fell upon a finely carved oak buffet that atood at the end of it, and on which were laid five or aix lettera, ready for their ownera to claim as they re-entered the houae. Her quick eight detected the name of Sir Arthur on one of them in a momont, and with feminine ourioaity ahe oroaaed the hall to examine the envelope. It waa directed in a Bcratchy female hand, which ahe immediately recogniaed aa that of Miat Janet Opponheim. Tea, there it was, addreaaed in full to 'SIR ARTHUR CHASEMORE. Babt.. Care of Yiviak CHAsiifOEi, Esq*, 3, Premier Street, Portland Place. W.'; and with the poetmark of St. John'a Wood in the ooraer. Selina'a eyea flashed with indignation. The man had not been two day 1 in England, and that artfal little ninz had Hotnally foaod him oat and pounced npNoa him. But Sir Arthur should not get this lette'.v at all events t She was detet. micsd of that. The footman was still "whispering with the lady's-maid upon the i.d!iding, thoajih even at that moment Selina could ueteo'' the runtliog of skirts about to descend thj stsiroase. Before they had swept over a half dosen rods, however, the letter was »afo in her pocket, and she was standing demurely on the doormat where the footman had left her, waiting for an answer to her inquiry. ' Mrs. Chasemorc have not yet decided, madam, I believe, on renewing her "At 'Omes," ' said the simpering lady's-maid," as her 'ealth is not strong aa we could wish for ; but if she makes up her mind, as ^' '^ ■easoa advances, to 'ave them, the cards a be sent out as usual to her friends.' ' Oh, thank you I Yes, of coune I "lat is all I w'shed to know,' replied Mic . i^ *• thingale, anxious to's;et oat of th' . m% again before the man-servant should dev ■■■i (if he ever would detect) the absence of we nurloined lettet which she had secur 'uthn depths of her pocket. But the a. vas opened, and she regained the street in safety. CHAPTER VII. •TOU HAVl A 80H TO INHKRIT, I BKLIBVX.' As Mrs. Vivian Chasemore's carriage, with its handsome horses and well-appointed servants, drove up to the door of the house in Premier Street on that afternoon in March, and, clad in the sables that had excited her mother's envy, she languidly descended from it, you would have thought she had been used to such luxuries all her life,and had become quite indifferent to their possession. But that was very far from being the case. It is true that she let the ooetly velvet dress she wore trail up the steps and through the ball, and that she never even cast a glance towars the stands of exotic flowers tbat filled the house with so sweet a perfume, nor on the marble Mercury that gracea the atairoaae, although it called forth the rapturoua admiration of all her frienda. Two yeara and a half had accus- tomed her to the idea that '4II these Inxuriee were hers by right, but shfi did not value the poaition they placed her in the less, because she had ceased to care for herself. Her r! Mi 76 THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. BiAid WM waiting at the foot of the stairoMt to relieve her of her oloak and fan, and then Regiaa paiaed into the drawing room« where the footnun followed her to lower the blindi MDd li^ht the ffae. She found Viriar. sitting thare in the dutk . not reading, bnt reolining in an armchair by the Are, with hia eyea fixed upon the fliokerina flame. * Ho^ luv you look/ wae all that the re- inarkfld,Aa abe threw herself into th« oppo- site teat. 'I oaunoC imagine how people oan waste their time when their is so much to do in this world. Where's Sir Arthur 7' /Not knowing, oan'tsay I' yawned Vivian, who did not appear in the least inclined to defend himself against ner aoousation of lazi- ness. She turned from him with a gesture of im- patience. ' Anybody called this afternoon, James?' she inqeired of the servant. * Miss Farthingale called, madam, and Mrs. Dompier, and Colonel Payton, and a lady who wouldn't leave her name.' ' Wouldn't leave her name I How very strange I What was she like T' ' She was a stout ladv, madam, dressed in black— with— with>-a fresh colour and light yellowish sort of hair I' At this description Vivian appeared to rouse himself. ' I don't know her,' said Regina. ' I can't think who it can have been. ' ' She said I was to tell you an old friend had called, madam, and that she would take her ohanoe of finding you at home another day.' ' Some begging petition, you may be sure,' exclaimed Vivian. 'Did she walk lame, James T' ' Well, sir, now you oome to speak of it, I think the lady did limp a little as she went down the steps. ' ' I know the person ; a regular begging impostor. If ever she presumes to call here again, say you told Mrs. Chasemore of her Tuit, and she forbade you to admit her. Do you understand me ?' ' Yes, sir,' replied the servant, as he left the room. Regina did not like such a summary order being given in her name. As soon as ever the man had disappeared she attacked her husband. ' I must say it is rather cool of you, Vivian, deciding who shall and who shall not be admitted to my presence, without the slightest reference to me. How do you know but what I wish to see this woman and hear what she has to say for myself V * I know nothing about it, Regina ; bnt I am quite ear* I shall not allow you to do ao. I recognise the person from the desoription, and she is not one I wish yon to know.' * This beoomes mysterions i Are you afraid sha may be able to tall ma too much ?' ' Not at all, my dear. You know that befo e I married yon I unburdened my con« science of all that it was necessary for yr n to hear of my furmer life, and that since that time I have been wholly and solely yonrs in thought, word, and deeid.' ' Ah I so yon say I* ' Regina I' ejaculated Vivian, in a tone of reproach ; ' have I ever deceived you ?* ' I really don't know t Some people say that everything is fair in love and war. And here we have not been in London a fortnight before a mysterions female calls to see ma, who won't leave her name, and whom yon are evidently most anxious to prevent my meeting.' She spoke so coldly that Vivian felt annoyed. He loved his wife verv dearlv still, and her want of sympathy with all he did and said was the sorrow of his life. ' You are quite right, Regina,' he answered, with a sigh, ' I am most anxious to prevent your becoming acquainted with that person, though not for the motive you ascribe to me. I should hnve wished to keep both her name and her existence a secret from you, as I do not consider she is fit to be mentioned even in your presence ; but, since you are so unV'.4t I will tell you in self-defence that I feel certain your mysterious visitor is no other than my step-mother— my poor father's widow. Now, are you satisfiea ?' • With what V ' My determination to exclude her from this house.' ' I really don't see why you should do so,' replied Regina, as she played with the st.ings on her bonnet. ' You don't see that I have good reasons for forbidding you to make the acquaintance of that woman, when I have told yon of her depraved and vicious habits, and that it was in consequence of her base conduct towards myself that I ran away from my father's house and went on the stage ? Regina t yon are trying me too far. Remember that I do not take a jest wiolL' ' Oh, you need not remind me of that, Vivian. Every one knows how touchy you can be when you are contradicted. Bnt if I think a thing is wrong, I must^say so. It will seem very ntraage to the world that your father's widow is not admitted to your house, and especially after the company yon have been in the habit of keeping.' THE ROOT OF ALL SVIL, n do 10. iption, • e yon me too •w that ny oon* yfu to loeihat ^oart ia tonoof if iple MV %x. Ana Drtnight see me, Lom yoa rent my Un felt ly with )W of hie aiwered, ) prevent t peraon, t)e to me. jor name i, M I (lo Id even in 10 nn'''^t I feel 10 other father's ler from doio,' Kth the reeioni itanoe Ln of her it it WM ItowMrde Ifftther*! fon do If that, Ihy you It Id that your ly you ' What oompany T ' rejoind * Why aotors and aotretees and all the aorta of low people you meet on the stage. You oan ask a person like Mr. Selwyn to itay, under the same roof with me, yet yon forbid me to speak to year own father's wife.' * Sverard Selwyn is a gentleman by birth and breeding, and this woman is not a gentlewoman. Even if she were, her de- grading habits unfit her foi- the soeiety nutke it You to do is L- ♦!*« jrepe&ted apron* •JmIioI IftkomMlerehoaldWMt, • • I I doa't WMt him to bo kaoekiaf 99I ■pi— I this pofion whoB hehoe JtMt mm eko is not to ho sdoiitted. Yo« sro growisf sl«* pid, PorkiBS I Yo« will hsTs toMfrhtea ap » llttK or 700 will oompel mo to nil yoar plsoo with • more oooDpotsnt person. ' ' Oh BO, SBo'Bai^ I hope Boi I slwsys do ■ly best to please yoa, ma'an, and I shovld be very sorry Bot to give yoo satiaCaotloB. I will see that yoar orders are attoBded to, rna'aai,* esolaimed the obeeqaioes Perkins, as shs ovrtseyed herssK oat of the room. Bat not withoat a pang at being pledged to deoeive the brighthe motioned her vieitor to a chair. T^is louaed and dyed and whitened woman waa the very last sort of pereon to take her fancy or angage her intereet, and Jet she had a cnrioeity to learn what brought er there which would not be baulked. ' Indeed I I hardly thought that Vivian would have had the grace to mention my name to yon. Ah ! my dear, he baa not been a good etep>soB to me, thoagh you may not like to hear it, and his poor father was reply toeneh an MM by his going en the aotMlly kwffkd iota hia gMva by his wi. datlfBl eoMBolk ' I am vary sony,* faltarsd the wife, whm hardly know what to 1 sation. 'Do yo« stage, Mrs. Ohassaore ? ' 'Tartly i And that was a sbookisg thing for a BUB of hie birth aad edneatioa to do, leaviBg saoh a home aa he had too, replete with every comfort and Inxory, to walkiw in the mire of social life I It was the General's dsath-blow— positively and truly hie death* Wow I' ' I quite agree with you that it was a shocking thing,' said Regina, gravely. ' Ib* deed, we never speak of it, the reminisoeooe is so paiafaL* * Ahl yon fssi it too 1 I thought yoa would, reared in the refinement of aristo> cratic sooietv ; but I suppose Vivian bsars your animadvenione on the aubject better than ha used to do mine. ' ' I am afraid not. He haa still a sreal hankering after hia stage friends, and will not hear a word against them.' 'Well, it IS a mercy his grandfather'a eocentrio will came in force to save him from such a gulf. He is quite a brand plucked from the burning. He will be more careful in chooeing hie acouaintanoe now, it is to be hoped, for your sake and that of bis family. Yon have a son to inherit, I believe T' ' No, I have not,' replied R«gina, with a deeper shade over her beautiful face. 'What a pity! and when every alley swarms with dirty brats t However, let us hcpe for the best I never had much love for the new baroi;iet. A eelf> sufficient, con« ceited, money-grasi>ing cad 1' ' Bard terms,' said Mrs. Vivian, smiling. ' Nothing could be too hard for 8ir Arthur my dear, in my opinion, and I'd do a great deal to strip him of his title. But we must manage to keep him out ot the money. I'm afraid it's entailei.' •Yes.' 'Ah! so old Farthingale t«ld me. Itia just like Sir Peregrine. He never could do a kind thing without eome condition that rendered it worthless. Does your husband know that I'm here T* eontinuecl Mrs. Chase- more euddenly, aa she turned round upon Regina. 'To this queetion the other woman did not know what to reply, and in her confusion blurted out the truth. ' To be plain with you, he does not* He was angry when he found out from the lervant'e description that you had called last week, and save orders you were not to be admitted. But I thought you might have something of consequence to say to me, and '1 THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL- M I wntared priTttaly to ooanterauuid his order. Sbill, I would rather Vitriaa did not hear of your visit to-day.' Mrs. Ghasemore fixed her eyes npon Rsftina's iaoe and fpieiisad the truth u a moment. '&k>mefchin({ to say to you,' she rvpeatei, with a barah laugh. ' I fancy I should find a great many things to say to you, t!iat would oonsiderably open your eyes, if we had time to disouss the past. Ah I you'r' a sharp girl, my deer, but you don't kn^w every- thing yet. And so you don't get on too well with Vivian, eh T ' ' I did not say so, Mrs. Chasemore.' ' No, but you've let it out all the same. Well, never mind ; you're not worse otf than others. It's the usual fate of married people. It you had been very happy toge- ther, perhaps I should not have ventured to int'.ude myself upon your presence. Yon would have believed all he told you, and the very worst of me ' ' Indeed, Mrs. Chasemore ' ' You needn't take trouble to deny it, my dear. Llaster Vivian has not concealed his rual opinion of me, even from myself. I have the misfortune to know a great deal more about his former life than he would care to be repeat .'' to his wife, and there- fore he hah l>n to be a widow, my dear, as I dare say your mamma has ofteu told yon. But I thoughc i should like to have a look ai yon, aud to assure you that, if loanjeverbeof the slightest service to yott,I shall ba deligeted.' ' Ton are very kind. But it would seem strange to nuke use of a friend who has not even admitted to mjr house. You had better let a.^ rpeak to Vivian about it. I don't in the least mind his beins sncry. ' * You will do no good. His enmity to me is too deep-rooted, and some day yon will know the osuse. Bnt if I might sometimes "lee yon alone in tne dusk as now, and hear how you are getting on together, it would give me ^reat pleasure.' ' I will give my maid orders to bring you up here whenever yon call. If you ask for her, she will always let you know exactly who is in the house and who is out of ic But ^ am generally alone, when lam at home, in the afternoons. ' I may hope, then, sometimes to see you. Meanwhile, Mrs. Vivian, I wish yon would remember that there are two sides to every question, end that the rash act by which my step-son cut himself off from his friends and family reouires some very strong excuse to render it justifiable.' 'Nothing could justify it,' cried Regina, 'audit is absurd to suppose that you can have been the cause* I tell him so every day, and yet he brings his horrid actor ao- quaintances, that he knows I cannot bear the sight of, to stay in the house, and sit down at the same table with me.' ' From which his poor lather's widow is excluded,' sighed Mrs. Chasemore. ' Ah ! well, my dear, he may yet live to know hir true friends from his false ones.' ' I should like to have a good long talk with you,' said Resina, as her visitor rose to leave. ' When wiu you come again T ' * Well, I think, under the circumstances, I had better not come unless you send for me. Here is my card and address. Should you be alone any day or evening, and would like to have my company, I riiall be delighted to bestow it on you.' ' 1 will let you know the first opportunity, Mrs. Chasemcre. I long to hear all yon can tell me. of Vivian's former life.' ' ' That would take a good many ev^sings I am afraid, my dear,' replied Mrs. General Chasemore, with an ominous shake of the head, as she shook hands with Regina and quitted the room. CHAPTER Vin. ' TOO H* 71 KIUJU) THE BIST PART IK MB.' It was late in the afternoon when Mrs. General Chasemore left her step-son's house. Mrs. Perkins, who wak sent downstairs •• TUB BOOT OF ALL EVIL. M »yott,I id ■Mm haanot I better lon't in f to me on will aetimee ad hear i would ing you I Mk for exactly at of ic at home, see you. n would to every rhich my ends and xcuae to i Refiina, , yott can so every actor ac- mot bear ), and ait widow is . • Ah ! know hit long talk at rote to stanoea, I d fi'r me. oulA you oald Uke lighted to irtnnity, you can |v«isloga I Qeueral Leof the Igina and IN MB.' len Mra> ','■ houae. itairaad a^aai^oarier to aoe that the ooaat was elear, aad order James to be in readiness to open tha door, whispered to him pertly that ' the master's ma ' was ready to j^ and he was to ' boodle her oat before any one saw her.' The ooonpanto of iLe servants' hall had liaessed the identity of the supposed ' begging imposter' from the beginning, and from am- iHgnons sentences dropped here and there, had gathered pretty nearly the whole of her hktwy, and the terms she was on with her step>son, before she paid her seound visit to the hoose. What a misteke it is to suppose that we ean ever keep anythinft a secret from oar senranto I The footman who stands be> hind their chairs knows how often bis master aad mistress have words together, as well as they do themselves, and the maid that brashes out her lady's hair has guessed whither her affections are wandering before her own heart has decided the question. James stack his tongue in his cheek as Perkitis delivered Regina's messacm to him, and then stationed himself at the nall-door, peeping throueh the side>panes of glass at the enter world, after the fashion or London footmen, whilst he awaited the advcat of Mrs. Oeneral Ohasemore. In another minute she had passed through the hall, and been let oat of the house in apparent safety. i| Bat fortune was against her. As she reached the lowest step, Vivian, loumang home frome his club earlier than usual, and on foot, which he seldom did, turned from Port- laud Place into Premier Street^ and recog- nised her figure. His step-mother was near- siffhted : she lost the opportunity, therefore, of crossing the road and getting out of his way, and the consequence was that they almost ran into each other's arms. Mrs. Chasemore would gladly hare passed him, but Vivian would not let her do so. He guessed the reason of her contiguity to his residence, aad was boiling with pa' ' God bless my soul I it's Vivian i' sho re- plied, looking at him through her (glasses with a braien air. ' Why, I thought you fins I«ondon ^ntlemen never left your dubs till it was time for your dinner i Whatever brinn you hoscie at five o'clock ?' 'Good luck, perhaps, since I have run against you. It is not the first time you have been in the neighbourhuoil, Mrs. Chasemore I I must request it will be the lust.' ' Yoa request it indeed ! What next ? Is the whole of Portland Place aad ita stt- virons your property,that one must ask your leave before placing your foot in it f ' You know what I mean well «Boa|^ I Yon called at my house the olher day with the intention of seeing mr wife. WeU» I don't intend that you shall see my ww— that is all !' ' Is the lady so submissive, then, fthol your will is law to her V ' She will be submissive in this instaaoe^ because I will make her so.' ' Dear me I You seem to role the rooot wi\.h a vengeance ! But take care you don't go too far. Oar sex is apt to overienp a strained authority.' ' My wife has no desire to overleap mine — ^t fill events, in this instance. one has been carefully brousht up, and is most par< tioular in her own choice of aoquaintanoes.' *Ah, I know your complimento of | "»*• ■r*^'^. M THE BOOT OF AIX XVII* at * glMM that hU mMtar wm raffled, and dreaded what he might have heard. Vivian deeired that he would follow him to the library. ' Who has been here this af teraooa T ' !ie demanded,. ia a determined tone of \oije» as the door was olesed behind them. Tbe ser- vant oommenoed to stammer. 'None of vour shuffling I ' ezolaimed his master. ' You know what I mean well enough. I gave yon a strict order last week not tn admit a oertaic person to my house, and I met her inst now descending the steps. Has she been here or no 1 ' James did not know what to answer. He wished to screen his mistress ; but he was not a liar by nature, and the beat manner in which to shield her did not occur readily to him. ' If you please, sir, I wish you'd ask Mrs. Perkins about it.' ' I shall do DO such thing ! My orders were given to you, and I demand an answer to my question from you. Has that woman been admitted to this house to-day 7 ' ' ^eil, sir, it was entirely by Mrs. Per- kins' order. It went altogether against me to do it I ' ' Mrs. Perkins' orders 1 ' thundered Vivian. ' Who is Mrs. Perkins, I should like to know ? Is she the mistress of this house T How dare yon try to screen yourself behind Mrs. Perkins T' ' Well, sir, she brought her mistress's onlers, of course, and h didn't know how to go against them. I'm very •'orry if I've die obeyed you, sir, but it's very hard for a se'vant to know what to do, when two puople puU different ways.' 'Two people pull different ways.' The homely expression cut Vivian's heart like a knife. He felt it to be so sure. But he was too proud to let his servant guess how he had wounded him. ' There's only one master in this house, James, and as you dont seem to know the fact, you'll have to learn it. Go and fetch Perkins, and return here with her— at once 1 Do you hear t ' The footman, with a most crestfallen air, left the room to find the lady's-maid. She was in Regina's dressing-room, busy over something that was required immediately, and very unwilliag to leave it ; but when she heard James's storv, she looked as grave as he, and bundled her work to one side at ence. * Lor 1 you don't mean to tell me as the master's found it out !' she exclaimed. 'Well, there will be a flare-up and no mistake, fur when them two get to loggerheads, they don't seem to care what they say co one Bat 'tain't our faalt, an j w§j. §a4 r's too good not to see that, if it^ another. the master'i onlv to put him in the proper light,' But Mrs. Perkins was rather mistakM ia her calonlations on Vivian's ' goodness.' Ha was standing on the hearthrug wheo Um servants re-entered the room, restlessly tap- ping the floor with his foot ; whilst a dacp spot of crimson burned ominously on either cheek. 'Perkins,' he commenced^' by whoM orders did yon tell James to admit the lady who has been here this afternoon T ' ' She wasn't here more than half an hour, sir, I am sure, on the whole.' ' Will yon answer my question f said Vivian, angrily. ' Who told yon to tail James to admit her ?' * My mistress, sir,' replied Pei*kiiis, whim- pering ; ' and I'm sure it's very 'ard upon a poor servant when she's bound to obey her lady in all things, even if she do so against the master, to tind as ^e's only blamed tot her pains.' ' Did you understand that this woman was to be admitted against my express order to the contrary T' ' Of course you didl' interposed James^who felt it would be a comfort to have a partner in his guilt. ' We've talked it over^soorea of times, and wondered at missus going against the master tor such as her.' ' But 1 d dn't know ' begun the wo> man. ^ * No more of this I' interrupted Vivian) '' one of yuu is as bad as the other, and you will both leave my service to-morrow morn- ing.' At this abrupt intelligence the servy whoM the ladjr i Ml hour, ionf oa to tdl ins, whim* MrdupoDft (o obey her ■o againit blamed tor womtok WM M order to jMnee^who re A partner ier,«coreaof oiug egainet pui the wo* od Viviaal Bf, and yott rrow mom* ■erVatata exolaimed la aervant u ed ia it. I under m^ »ar month ■ J by twelve iher servant >rity, Lever the mourn* snger wai ten directed I »nd James koe to him* Jlamw thdm, fted to re* lit that he lit interview Irvanu' dii- Ty, but his disiaiual of his whole household could not purify it, whilst she held the reins of gevemroent and guided it in an opposite direction from what he desired her. He could wreak his ven* Seance on his poor irresponsible menials, by epriving them of a situation ; bat his besL tiful wayward wife, whom he still loved so much, and who was so essentially indifferent to him, wha^i could he do to make her tract* able and obedient? Nothing but love or fear oau guide a woman, and Reijina knew neither feeling. She was totally free from all apprehension of difficulty or danger, and seemed to think her position so secure, that she could aftord to act just as she chose. The position which, had she loved him, she would have dreaded to lose her aovereieaty over her husband's heart — was a matter which she would have laughed to scorn had it been presented to her. But she could feel anger, deep and lasting, if any of her pet designs were frustrated, and Vivian feared to raise a tempest in her which he mi^ht find it diffi- cult to quell. Yet his mind was so firmly made up upon this subject of Mrs. (General Chasemore ' he resolved at all costs to speak. H'-j .vas still cogitating what he should say to Regina, and how in a few strong words he should make her uuderstand that he would not be thwarted, when she saved him the t/ouble of further deliberation, by appearing in the library ready armed for battle. Mrs. Perkins had flown weeping to her mistress, to communicate the sad result of thttir joint duplicity , and the idea that Vivian had dared to dismiss her private attendant without her aanctioo, hr.d roused Rettina to a fury. As she entered the room and dlammed the door behind her, Vivian thought he had never seen her look so hand- some. An angry flush had mounted into her usually colourless cheeks, aud her eyes glowed with passion. ' What do you meau, Vivian,' she com- menced loudly, 'by dismissing my maid without my authority ? I never heard of such a thing be-ore, aud I won't stand it* Perkins is my servant, not yours , and I refuse to allow her to leave this house on the dismissal of any one but myself. ' Vivian had hoped to ar^ue the point with his Mtife coolly ; but her insolent matter irritated him, though the voice in which he answered her was apparently calm. ' What you aliow, or do not allow, is not of the slightest oousuqueaoe in this manner, il»igina. The s>rvaats have dis^-beyed my ordnra, and they will le:ive my P'tfrvioc, as 1 told thr^m ; anct after what Has pasued, you should be glad, instead of sorry, to think that they will h6 removed fiom your sight' ' And for what reason, pray ' she de* manded. ' Because, if you thought rightly, itslumld be a souroe of ooustaut humiliation to yoa to keep under your eyes two people whom you have stooped to make your companions in de- ceiving me.' * No such thing 1 J. laid my commands upon, them, as you might have done^ and they obeyed them. And if you procure {rwh servants to-morrow, they shall not remain in this house unless they obey what order I choose to give them.' 'Then you must learn to make your orders agree with mine. I confess that James and Perkins are not nearly so much to blame a you are, but you have brought these oonse* quences upon their heads, and they must bear the brunt of them.' * If I am to blame, pray what do yon oon* sider you should be, who shut your door^ in the face of your own father's widow, josfc because you are afraid of what she may diis* close concerning you T ' ' Is that one of lies that woman has al* ready been pouring into your ears T ' cried Vivian, roused by her manner to show liis irritation as well as feel it. ' 1 don't believe it to be a lie I I might have done so if you had not appeared so ver* ribly afraid of my meeting your step* motber ; but your very fear proclaims that you have something to dread from her. ' * Take care what you say, Ke^a. Yoa had better not go toe tar ! ' replieu ber hus- band, with dosed teeth. * Oh I you doii't suppose I am afraid of speaking it to me. Thank goodness, my antecedenu are at the service of anybody who may feel an interest in them. ' ' It would be very strange, considering you area woman, if they were not.' ' 1 don't know that ! There are very few women nowadays who can affc \ to have the whole of their single lives laiu bare.' 'What extraordinary specimens of the sex you must have been in the habit of atssuoiat* ing wiih I ' ' Perbaps I have ! More eztraordinaiy than suuh as you made your companions when you adopted that honourable profession — the stage.' ' I often wish I had never left it,' said Vivian, impatiently. ' The friends I made there were at least honest. They didn't collude with their inferiors in order to de- CAive me.' ' Oh, that's a hit at me, of course ! So gentlemanly aud delicate of you to turn everything I si*y into a fresh reproach. It shows what a good effect your early training i as had upon you.' m K-M .H 8t TEIB BOOT OF ALL ITIL.! < It hM had at leaat the cffaot of maUng BM indepi^dent and dotermined to be the nuMter in my own houe, and of my own wife. And that yon appear atill to hare to lean, Begina.' * Aaeertion is no proof I Yon will havo to prove yonnelf my master before I shall aeknowle^ yon as suoh.' * l>im't loroe me to prove it in any way wliioh we may regret hereafter. Come, B^ina, I have no wish to deal with yon otherwise than gently in this matter i Only give me yonr word of hononr that this woman whom I know to be a most unfit associate for yon, shall never again be admitted to our honse, and I will say no more about it*' ' Indeed I I shall promise nothing of the sort. On the contrary, I desire that yon oonntermand the orders yon hkve laid npon James and Perkins. It is a gross insnlt to me, as the mistress of the honse, that tbey should be dismissed because they have done as I had told them to do.' ' Then you must put up with the insult. Ton may be the mistress of the house, and I hnve neve? disputed your authority until now ;' but yon are not mistress of yourself, and it is time you learned who is your master !' ' li^ master indeed I' cried Resina. ' I would acknowledge no man as snon, even if he were the king npon his throne !' * You'll have to acknowledge me as suoh, all the same,' returned Vivian coolly ; ' and the sooq^r the better, for your own sake as well as mine. I have let you have your way too louK, and it is time you should submit to my oootroL' ' Submit to your control Ishe echoed,scoru- fnlly. ' Make me do it if you can I I defy yon i' He strode to her side, and grasped her by thenrm. * Don't mske me use brute force,' he said in a low voice, as he looked her f nil in the face. Regina did not blench before him. She stared at him back again, hard and unyield- ing at brass. ^ Just what I should have expected of you,' she saitl mockingly ; ' wrench my arm out of the jookat, do I It would orL/ be on a piece with the rest of your manly behavionr. Brute ioTO'i indeed ! Why, it's the only sort of force which you know how to exercise upon a woman.' ' 1 am not likely to hurt you,' he returned ' but if y«u coBtiuue in this r t-*^te of rebellion I ahall disgrace you, by Ir. '^riMi you up in yonr own room until you ionte in your senses. Once for all, Kegina, .• ^'u bt. obeyed, acd it is useless your atteuij^Un^ ^o oppose »e. I have never vvyf.-t'K'n v^'tb any of yonr assoointes or pU Bures until now, but here I am firm. Yon must proouao me never to see Mrs. Oeneral OhasenuNre again, or I shall take means to make yon oho* dienk' ' Well then, I shsU not promise yon Thcro I' Tivian's handsome face grew very dark as he tightened his grasp npon her arm with the intention of leading nor npatairs. ' Coward 1' she exolaimed in a f nry. ' Yon are hurting me !' At that word his hold relaxed, and he let her go. But his anger was increased ton* fold. i No man has ever dared to call me by that name,' he said. ' But a woman dares !' she retorted. ' Yon are a double oownrd, first for trying to inti- midnte me by yonr words, and then, finduu^ them fail, by your violence. But you will learn that I am not to be treated in this way with impunity. It. is all verp well when yon have got me in the library with the door shut, out well see whether you will like to repeat jonr conduct in the presence of your cousin Sir Arthur and your fiue actor friend Mr. Selwyn.' ' I should not be ashamed to repeat what I have said or done this hoir in the presence of the whole world. I have not uttered a falsehood as you have. Regina ! you know that I am not a coward. During the years that we have been married, and the many unhappy differences that have taken place between us, I have never treated you other- wise than with justice and forbearance. Only unsay those words. Tell me that you do not really think me a coward, and I wiU do all that lies in my power to make my wishes coalesce with yours.' But Regina saw that she had gained the upper hand in tormenting, and with the usual prettiness of her sex, would not forego one iota of her triumph, although a proud man stooped to sue for peace at her hands. ' I can't unsay them ! I think you have proved yourself a thorough coward by the way in which you have tried to domineer over me to-day, and I despise you for it from the bottom of my heart' ' Yon despise me ! (.ood God ! has it come to this ? You will tell me next that you do not love me.' * * Is it to be supposed that I can, after th«i brutal mnnner in which you have behaved to me ? ' Vivian staggered backward. With all her cool indifference, Regina had never nrone so far as this. * Why did you nuurry me if yen did not love me ? ' he exolaimed,in a voice of anguish, But the s'.^isk did not appeal to her THB BOOT 07 ALL lYU^ M kard hm*%. She felt oold and unyialdiag m •ton*. ' HaftTWi knows I I am inra I don'l I nippoae my mother hii4 raised the devil in me, worse than nanal, on the day that yon were eo nnluoky as to propose.' ' And you took me as the least nnplsaaant altematiTe?' She shroffged her shoulders. ' It may nave been so. We were horribly poor yon know, and the prospeet of any ohange must have appeared delifhtfnl to me thca? ' Go on ! go on I ' exolaimed her hatband, paroastioally ; ' tell me that von married me ifor my money only, and linisn yonr tiendish wo katnld have a benefieial eft ot upon Vivian's leeiings. So she ordered the subdued and tearfal Per* kina to rob« her in one of the mo**^ becoming d r sssss — a oream-colonred satin, whioh dis- played every line of her figure to perfeotioii, and in which she had alreatiy eallwl forth h«r hnsband'a warmest admiration. Her golden hair was bound round her head with string* of pearls, and t,he same ornaments (crsoed her boeom and her arms. As she stood before the glass, preparatory to desoending to tho draw- ing-room, she lo<»ked as pure and palo as a tinted statue. She did nut presume so ftf aa to promise a re installation in office to the weeping lady's maid.but she threw out strong hints tl* kt it was not an impoesibility, which made ^rs. Perkins later in the evening confide her suspicions to James, that * the mistress must nave got the better of the master thia time,' at whioh oonitictnre the delinquents rt- joioed touether. But before long their hopee waxed fainter. Amongst the friends whom Kegina ha I invited to dinner that evening were the Farthingales, whom both Sir Arthur and Vivian desired to meet after their absence from England. The little lawyer and his daughter, tosetber with two or three other Ruesta, and the gentlemen who were staying in the house, assembled in the draw'ng-ronm not lon|} after Kegina entered it, and before the diuner- hour arrived, their party with the exception of Vivian were complete. Natnrally,i;jquiries began to be made after the master of the houflo, and James was sent on more than one fruitless errand to his dressing-room to see if be had come in. AU kinds of notions were started to account for his absenee ; only Mr. Everard Svlwyu, to whom Regina had an iistinotive aversion appeared to guess the true state of the case. ' I thoutjht 1 heard Chasemore and yon talking in the library, Mrs. Chasemore, about an hour ago ! ' he said with a snspioious look at bis hostess. ' I have no d«ubt yon did ! Vivian had jus- come in from bis club.and was detailing some of the servants' deliiiquenoies to me in so d ^ raatic a macnev that I told him he would >e heard down in ti:^ kitchen. But he acquired that horrid habit of taikins load, I suppose, upon the stage, aid I am afraid he will never drop it.' ' It must be awkward sometimes 1' said Selwyn, dryly ' now much longer are we to wait for him V iiif uired Sir Arthur, with the freedom of a relaijon, aa he cousuited his watch. ' It 8S THV ROOT OF ALL BYIL. i» nmrXy Imlf-pMt eight, and th« entreM will ba ipoilad,- m well m the oook'i temper. *Mot forgetting year own !' rej< lined Re> gia«. * We will not risk it, Hit Arthur. !biniMr iIiaU be serve 1 at onoe.' And ebe gave the necessary orders to the Mrvants. It will be remembered that when he had hoped to make her his wife, Sir Arthur Ohasemore had verv sincerley admired Re« Jina Nettleship. That admiration had not ied out, notwithstanding the severe blow his vanity had received at her hands — notwith- ■tanding also that R^igina invariably snnbbed lun, for an undue love of admiration was not one of her particular sins. She was too much used to it, perhaps, to overrate its Taloe ; and at the same time she regarded the baronet with peculiar aversion on account •f his being the heir to her husband's pro- perty. And Seliua Farthingale, who had quite recovered any personal wound she may have received by Sir Arthur's openly avowed distaste to her, yet could not watch his evident appreciaticn of the appearance of Regiua, in her cream coloured satin dress, withoet a pang of jealousy — a feeling which one can scarcely reconcile with her keen deeire to be revenged upon the barcet. But women's hearts are the strange %t contradic- tions, and the most unlikely feeJings to grow together lie coiled there like a nest of snakes. Ton may be sure that Selina had not carried i^way hliss Janet Oppenheim's letter from the hall tai«!e without reading it, and she triumphed inwardly and maliciously as she sat in Regina's drawing-room and remem- bered that it had n^iver reached the hands for which it was intended. Its contents had somewhat startled her, for by them she learned that the pnpil-tevsher at Clarence Lodge and Sir Arthur Ohasemore had been corresponding freely during the whole period of his wanderings abroad, and looked f rward to meeting on his return as uatnr^Jy as though they had been the oLiest of friends. Selina had not yet decided on her line of action in the matter -whether she should openly inform Miss Netbnrwood of the un- seemly intimacy her teacher was secretly carrying on,or bide her time and work in the dark, as so m.itny of her dear sex delight to do. Her anger at the discovery she had made was due more to the belief that Sir Arthur had informed Janet of the interview that bad passed between Mr. Farthingale and himself than to any fear that Miss Op- penheim was ambitious to usurp the p'.aoe ■he had coveted. That wm too ridiculous an idea to find harbour ia her mind for a ringle moment. This was the fir«it occasion on which the Farthingales am' Sir Arthur Ohasemore Had met since his return home. and their mutual greetinn (although the little lawyer still managed the money affairs of boiih nousins) were rather constrained. The baronet could not forget that the hard terras on vhich Mr. Farthingale advanced him five hundred pounds had compelled him to throw up his profession for while, and leave England ; whilst tbe lawyer, on hi* part, keenly remembered the oool disdain with which his own proposals on a certain memorable occasion had Iteen rejected by the impoverished barunet. Tt was consequently Sir Arthur's role to appear m 'debonnair' an unembarrassed as possible, which he did by talking freely of the delightful sojourn he had made abroad, and the collection of pretty things which he had brought back with him. ' I have a set of carved coral from Algiers, that is a ;ierfect marvel for beauty of work- manship, ' he said, as the party sat round the dinner table. ' I purchased it for a little friend of mine who is very fair — as fair as yourself, Regiua, and I expect it will create quite a sensation when she appears in it.' 'You have never shown it to me,' re- marked Begina, languidly. Something like fear had sprung up in her breast at Vivian's prolonged absence. Did he really mean what he had said this time t ' Because I have not yet unpacked them,' . replied Sir Arthur ; ' but 1 am sure yon will say they skve unique. I want Vivian to see them before they go away. He thinks so much of those coral cameos he got in Rome last year. ' ' And who is your '< little friend " ? ' said Regina. ' Ah ! come, that's not fair i but I can assure you that she is worthy of the corals ' ' Or, at any rate, you may be certain she will not reject them 1' laughed Selina sourly. She wondered if that minx Janet Oppen- heim was to be the recipient of these priceless ornaments ; but no ! it wae too incredible. What should a pupil-teacher at Olarence Lodge do with carved corals T The general conversation went on briskly ; but Regiua was almost Rilent,so was Everard Selwyn. The bleak March day had ended in a wet night, and the heavy rain might be heard splashing against the window-panes. But the wife's heart was not anxious for the safety or well being of her ab"t;aL husband. All she feai-ed was what the present com'- pany mighc think of his non-appearance at his own table. It was so low and vulgar to quarrel openly. She could not bear that they should guess that she and Vivian ever stooped to such a thing. TTiB ROOT OF ALL KVn* 81 igh the r attain (rained. M hard ivanoad led him ile, and , on his disdain certain d by the iqaently Hair' an did by |oam he >f pretty sk with Algiers, of work* t round or a little I fair as ill create in it.' me/ ro- bing like Vivian's lly mean ed them/ yon will to see thinks so in Rome "f said It I of can the in she Selina |t Oppen- 1 priceless joredible. lOlarenoe [briskly ; ' Uverard ended iif(ht be r-panes. for the laaband. it oum* hnoe at lal^ar to w that ever Sir Arthur was still disoonrsing ewerly abont the countries he he had risited aad the treasores he had collected, when she gave the signal for her own sex to retire to the drawiog-tx>om. There were two other ladies present beside Selina, and as soon as they were alone thiy naturally fell intd pairs. Miss Farthingale clung to her hoeiess, and opmed warfare with a tirade of compliments. Sha had ncTcr s«9n Regina looking so well or so young or so handsome in her life be> fore. It wss a great object with Selina just ■ow to get on intim«te terms in Premier- •iMei, and she could think of no better ■eans ^or laying the foundation of a renewed intimacy. Mrs. YiTian Obasemore received all her iattanf as though it were her due. Sae had nc^er u *ne more than patroaise Selina Far. thingale in her maiden days, and she was searMly likely to go further now. Bat like many another self-elected planet, nhe loved to have her ring of satellitea revolvintt round her. And Selina and she had one feeling in oommon, intuitively felt, although, as yet, unexpressed — eheir mutual dislike of Sir Arthur. * I trust you are not fooling too anxious, dear Mrs. Chasemore ! ' exclaimed Selina, in reference to Vivian * He may have met with some frieuds, and been detained. Still, it is very curious — is it not T ' ' Very much so. I do not imagine that any harm can have come to Mr. Chasemore ; bat 1 a^a astonished that he should have for- ^tten we expected friends this evening. He " scaroely forgive himself when he remem* lit.' .it this moment, James, handing r^und the eoft'ee, whispered to his mistress that Mr. Selikyn was anxious to speak to her for a moment ; and, with an ap<>io(;y to her guests, she left the room. She f«>aiid the 4otor wait- ing outnide the roi-m, leanio(( against the marble Mercury. 'I boK your pardon for interraptins ynu, Mrs. Chasemore! but I eannot feel happy until I have heard something of Vivian. Hare vou any idea in whioh direction he has goner R^na's lip curled with disdain. What right nad this vulgar professional to interfere in her private affairs ? 'Really, Mr. Selwyn, I cannot see what difference it would make if I did !' * Because I mean to follow him, and brini; him home again. See what a night it is ! Is it fit weather for Vivian to be out in his excited condition ?' ' Mr. Chasemore is not a child, Mr. Selwyn. He is perfectly able to look after bimneff, and I cannot see that his unpardonable ss: absenoe oalls for interference on our part. He is not easily reasoned into adopting any couree that is against his own wishes.' * Don't you think so t' said Everard Sel- wyn, sorrowfully. 'We always considered him so very open to conviction or affection. ' The ' wd' grated on Regina's ear. 'Perhaps he has dropped his pliability with the rest of the good manners you taught I him,' she answered, haoshtily. ' However,! have not the least idea where he is at present, and I advise yon not to trouble yourself upon the matter either. ' ' I cannot promise that i I must go round to his dubs, and the plaoee where I think it most likely to find him, and try and persuade him to hear reason. I am quite aware that he was venr angry when he left the house. I suppose I may say that you are anxious to see him — may I not, Mrs. Chasemore ?' ' Indeed, I beg yon will do nothing of the kind !' she answered hastily. 'It would be as untrue as it would be useless. As far aa I am concerned, the longer he stays away the better !' She returned to the drawing-room as she spoke.and Everard Selwyn, with a sad hearty left the house. He was very much attached to Vivian. He knew what a sterling sood nature he had, and what a iash undisciplined tem*' i - and would never have been surprised t; i • .--t of any act of folly he had committeo. whilst under the influence of such a misunderstand- ing ac Selwyn felt sure had taken place be- tween him and his wife. He ran from haunt to haunt, seeking his friend everywhere, but without success ; and at twelve o'clock he came back in the pouring rain, hoping to hear f-ut ' the same year as herself, and were now the proprietors of three and four ehildren— quite large families, and who com- plained every time she met them Of the nuisance it was to have so many little And all she wanted was one — only one ! but she was almost tired of wiabiug fur ic When Regina considered how much de- pended on the advent of that one child, she was disposed to blame Providence very freely for withholding tbe gift. It was not the lack of maternity that disappointed her : it was the lack of an heir to stand between her and the haunting dread of poverty. Four o'clock, five o'clock sounded, and Vivian had not yet returned She concluded, then, that he must have gone to the house of some friend fur the night, and it was of no use sitting up for him any longer. At any rate, she thought, as she laid her weary head upon her pillow, if tbe worst had happeued, she could make it no better by tiring herself to death. Yet the first question she askod, on awaking the next moruing, was if any news had Men heard of Mr. Chaaen«re. Mrs. Perkins answered dejeotadly in the n^ Sfttive ; for the bntler had informed her that his master did not return to ooanter«nler their dismissal, she and Jamw wonld hmf to bay* the house, whether they liked it or no. But an hour afterwards a hurried knock was heard upon the door of Begina's drsH- ing room, and Mr. Selwyn's voice demandod to speak to her if possible at once. Sbe threw on a wrapper, and joined him on the lauding. 'Vivian has returned at last, Mrs. Chasemore I I th<»nght yon would be lad to know it ; but he seems to have «en wauderioB about all nigbt in the rain, and I am afraid he luM made biniMlf thoroughly ill I ' ' l>ear me 1 How foolish ] I thought he had more sense. Where is he? Why doesn't he come here ?* ' Ue refused to do so. He has gone into the spare bedroom and thrown himself opon the Dud. ludeml Mrs. Chasemore, I think you had better send for a doctor. He is wet through to the skin and shivering %11 over. I am Mure he will have an Ittaok of ilhisw unless he is seen to at once.' * Nonsense ! Surely a wetting can't do a =:sa any harm 1 However, you had better cuusuli his own wishes on the subject.' ' 1 am afraid he is not fit to be oonsnlted. He appears half delirious, to me.' ' Must likely he has h^d more than in good for him. It is very disgusting, but Vivian has transgressed more tlum once in that way lately. You ha«i better send for the dootur. Mr. Selwyn. The butler knows his address. And pray keep Vivian away from me till he \ t himself asain. I have no wish to see him iu so degrading a condition.' ' Indeed you are mistaken,' conuneooed Selwyn earnestly ; but she shnt the door whilst he was speaking, and he tnm^ away disheartened by hei want of feeling. < He had not told her that as he went to meet his friend in the hall that morning, Vivian had thrown himself into his arms and murmured incoherently : ' Oh, Selwyn — Selwyn ! she doesn't care for me, my boy. She only married me for my d — d money- she told me so 1' -before he nearly fainted ^way from the excitement and exposure he had nadergone, and that since then he had lain face downwards on the bed, muttering broken seutencvs, beariag the same import, to himself. The medical man, who was summoned at once, pronounced the case at first to be only the effects of a violent chill, but was com- rest I«nr THB ROOT OF ALL BVJL. if ftoy MOIMr*. Mr that trH>rder d IwTe Bdilor IkBOok sdNM- nuuidad Mk 8ke oa the i, Mn. onld be to have ihe rein, himMlf sngbt he ? Why {one into Mlf noon , I think tfeiswet «11 over, of mn't do a lul better KMUulted. A is good It Vivian that way lO dtiotur. addroM. ae till he » nee him ninenoed ibe door i^ away I went to norning, iiisarme Iwyn — ay boy. noney — fainted •are be I be bad ittering I import, looed at Ibe only \b com* felled before nightfall to ohaage hia oftinion and oall it fever. Whatever it ma^ have been,it detained Vivian Obaeemore m bed for nearly a month, during whioh time be reeolntely rofoied to eee or apeak with bia wife. The mere mention of her name drove himintoapaesion.and Everard Selwyn was obliged at laat to ignore it altogether. That faithful friend alone sat by hia bedaide, whilst Segina went here, there, and everywhere, in ordertopaM away the dull spring weather, and professed, as far as lay in her power, «o know everything about the domestic arrange- ments of her husbtuid's sick-room. At last ▼ivian was convalescent, and Dr. Morton recommended a few weeks of the seaside to restore his strength before the fatigues of the I«udon season began. Ventnor was soleoced as voasessiuff the temperature best suited to his wse, and thither Selwyn accompanied him in the early part of April. The actor had been most anxious to bring about a meeting and a reconoiliatiou between the husband and wife before Vivian left home, but the sick man was resolute. The last words and looks that had passed between them seemed to be burned in upon bis memory, and be shuddered at the mere thought of seeing her again. ' When I come back, perhaps -when I oome back 1' was all the answer Selwyn oould extract from him. Had Regina been a loving, repeotMt woman, however undisciplined and HMti^ in dispositioa, who would have watobed and waited for an opportunity to Hhrow one pleading glance in Vivian's band hwi struck her I But do not let it be supposed that th r S' :U a^joD her bloom- ing cheek with half the sting that one of 'de ffina's unkind wordssank into Vivian's heart. Bonnie had been too much used to see hus- bands strike their wives, to feel as if an irre- (Murable injury had been done to her di/^nity. 8hi^ oi:ly felt it and cried under it as '^ child might have done. It was unjustly ^ven, of course. S3 does the child often vote its parent unjust in punishment, but it is com- pelled to submit all the same, and it does not fall in its own estimation on account of the blow. Bonnie had flown to her graodmnther with her grievance on that occasion, but the old woman had not sympathised very strongly with her sense of injury. * Lor , child I ' she exclaimed, ' a little 'it like that from a man don't mean nothin'. I suppose yon druv 'im beside hisself and 'e iust let out at you. You musn't think of sich trifles 1 Why, I can remember when your grandfather, who was as good a 'usband as ever stepped, used to cuft me right and left if I went against 'im. You musn't go against a man. Allays let 'im 'ave 'is own way, and 'e'll jog on quiet enough.' 'Bfat he's broke all ray things,' sobbed Bonnie. ' Lor ', now, they was only rubbage ! it's no use thinkin' of ttiem. Kit will buy you better ones when 'e comes to his souses, see if 'e dont. And now, Bonnie, yon be good and clear up all the litter afore 'e comes in again, or you'll drive me to cuff you myself, wbioh has never been my 'abit as you well know.' What with her grandmother's argument and Kit's apparent forgetfalness of th« 1 they had passed through, Bonnie began to think she most have been tha onlv one in the wreog, and that to strike a nawly-mada wife on the side of the head was tha mla, rather than the exception, in holy matri« mony. She knew that Mr. and Mrs. Ball, round the oomer, had periodical quarrels, when the woman alwaye came off with the worst of the bargain, and she could racolleot the dav when poor Ann Martin, the shoe* maker's wife, oame soreaming into her {[randnothor's parlour, with ner ohedi aid open from a blow with a oobler's awl. She had thought once that these /fere un- happy marriagee, and that people that loved each other never fought. Somethini in the leeeons of reiineu:«nt Tvbioh she had unconsciously imbibed from Alfred Waver* ley's society and surroundings had imbued her with the idea that husbands and wives should be the dearest and truest frieods to one another, but sbe eupposed now that she had been mistaken. To be a wife, she found, was to be a sort of se.vant — at the book and call of one person only —who must do, not what she liked, but what she was told, or she would be punishe ' for her disobedi- ence. Kit Masters did not often again allude to the jealous fit she had aroused in him. Either he forgot it, or he thought it best not to recall the circumstance to her. But it in« fluenced him t3 be much rougher and harsher with Bonnie than he mi^ht otherwise have been. As time went on, the conjugal en* dearments which she had so much dn>aded were dropped altogether, and a curt com- mending manner took, their place. Bonnie ran, fetched and carried fer her lord and master like a dog, and like a dog she was cuffed for disobedience or neglect. This sort of usage soon had an effect on her. She hrd never been strong in the head, and she now became stupid and dull — con* fused ideas ohased each other through her brain — her memory seemed torpid, and all life passed before her like some troubled dream. Old Mrs. Bell declared that marriage, instead of briBhtenning Bonnie's wits, had made her ' darter ' than before, whilst Kit asserted that she was ' a perfect fool,' and that if she didn't look a little sharper after his comforts, he'd jog her memory with a stick. But neither her husbands promisee nor his fulfillment of them seemed to make any difference in Bonnie. She went through her daily work in a sluggish, unmeaning sort of way, and when she failed in pleasing him, she took her punishment without a murmur. Poor little Bonnie I before the twelvemonth had gone over her head, she was used t» Thm her thai ■he / TRB BOOT or ALL EVIL. •1 lain nad* rul«i Ball, mis, i the ollMt ■ho«> > h«r ihMk I AWl. reaa* that ithioi e had ^aver* nbaed wivaa loda to tat aha found, ok and o, not I told, •obadi* ude to n him. teat not it it in- haraher le have ;al en- iraaded •t oom* Bonnie trd and le waa feet on lehead, U— eon. iffh her knd aU subled krriage, had bt Kit and Br after nth a imiaea make irough ig sort kg him, lurmur, smonth Ised t» being * hit,'— and really did not aeem to oare whetner it took place or nol Only it made hitr bead more atnpid and oonfaaad. And sometime*, when Kit Maatera waa oat with his greeof^rooer'a oart (for sinoe the memor- able meeting with Virian Obasemore he had not taken his wife with him as a regai»7 thing), she would sit for honrs with her handa olasped to her forehead, trying to diaentangle the mental oonfnaion that reign* od there. lfeanwhile,althoughahe never oomplained of ill health,the roumied symmetry of Boo- nie'a Bsnre hati departed. »nd her face look- ed half the aise tnat it had been bafore. There was an aching, unsatitlied longing in her heart whioh she hardly awnoiated with the memory of Alfred Waverltiy, but which she knew felt worae and opnreated her moat whenever her grandmotber allmted to tbe daya when their lodger waa with them or won* dered what had become of hitn sioce he left. Theneighbonra remarked the alteration in the girl'a appearance, and warned Mrs. Bell that ahe was going into a ' waste,' but all the old woman'a answer was, ' that if it was the Lord's will to take her, sbewas sure she wasn't Eing to be the one to ioterfero.for she didn't lieve that Kit and sbe would even get on too well as man and wife.* At which the noighboara would ahake their heada sym- patbisingly si say, that ' marriage waa a lottery, that it wis, and the greateat meicy in this life waa beina able to thiuk as there wae none of it in heaven.' But notwithstanding Bonnie's waated figure ahe did not die, or even fall sick. It waa tbe day, yon'd 'ave eaid she was just tit for a 'sylnm— and nothin' else. I kcow poor dear Mrs. B«ill 'ad a tryin' time witti 'er from her oradl* nppards. and it's a pit)' ahe weren't took fast, thavs what I aay.' ' Vfhy ain't she got an 'usband to look arter'erT' said Mr. Ball, who oonaidered marriage to be the aim and tbe end (as it too often is, eepeoially the end) of woman* kind. ' True I bat Kit Maatera, 'e oaflii 'er aboal too maith. I take it 'e don't nndentand tha gal's natnr. She waa allaya soft, and now she seems softer to me than ever. I don't believe she's got the least notion that her poor grandmother'a gone from 'er.' But if Bonnie could not realise the fact of her bereavement all at once, it waa evident enough that she underatood it on the day of tbe iuterment, when her frantic screams rais- ed tbe neigh boarhood, and caused her to re> ceivemore than one 'cuff' from Mr. Mas- ten' kiudlf hand, aa a quieting dose, before he left her to follow the b<)dy to the grave. Mra. Bull and othera bad tried to dress Bonoie in her mourning and make be/ attend tbe funeral in vain. 8he had wildly reaisied all attempts to induct her into tbe new blauk dress, and entreated them to bring her grandmother'a cofpn up-atain again, and not to part her from her only friend. Kib'a Boothing- mixture had the effect of tuiuing tbe poor child'a excited screams into low sobs, but when the hearse and tbe mourning* coach bad driven away from tbe door, and sbe fonud ahe was really left alone in tJie de- serted bouse, her agony of mind was extreme. 8he threw herself upon tbe floor, atiflmg her aoba in tbe akirt of her dress, aa though she feared that her husband might yet be at- tracted back to the bouae again in order to atill them. 'Alone I alone I ' ahe kept on murmuring toheraelf; 'all alone with him. Oii 1 I canot bear it ! I ahall go msd I I cannot, cannot bear it 1' The remembrance of her gnndmother'a kindly old face, with its seamed and puckered forehead, ita mild brown eyes snd tuothleas mouth, atmok her with overwhelming pain. 8he had often corrected her, it is true : she had called her ' daft ' and ' soft' and useless, and told her to put up with Kit's unkindness, and thank the Lord be was no worse— but atill ahe had loved her. Sbe was aure of that I She thought of the cold, trembling old :■ ik,'.' IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1.1 2.0 i.8 1 1-25 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" ► p% vQ /: ^ '•^ o 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation "^>^ 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. US80 (716) S72-4S03 r.*^" «>. V^ VV^<' f/. Ip n THI ROOT OF ALL SVIU luMid that iwed lometimM to stroke her heir: ot the qaiet kiea It id apoo her forehead : of the qniveriug Toice that bade her be patient aod good, asd remember thxt it was her daty to an omit — andnbe felt sure her grandmother had loved her, for «ho eahe of her father whom she had laid to sleep in the oharoh* yard. And now that she had gone there was no one— oo one to whom she cculd fly in peril or distress : ao one to bid her be brave and make the best of things. It was this sense of utter loneliness thatstraok fionnie with so much terror : ^e fear of being left complete* ly in the power of Kit Masters, without a ereature to turn to for comfort or protection. She pondered on the idea until it touched km brain, and she turned her head restlessly from side to side, like some wild animal tryiug to shake off the oppression of paw. At laat the horrid thougbs struck her that time was hurrying on, and the funeral party would soon be returning to the huuse. If he caught her again, there wauld be no escape for her. She would have to live her whole life alone with him, and the idea fiightened her into action. She rose hastily, and with- out the least preparation ran downstairs and lAt the house by the back door. bhe had no bonnet on her head, and her dreas was tumbled and in disorder ;but that was of little consequence. Such sights were not unusual in Drury Lane, and so long as she could walk straight, no one would molest her. The child did not walk, she ran with a swift, light step that took her over the ground like a lapwing. Where she was going she had no idea, nor with what purpose she thus sped along. She only felt tbat she was hurry mg from him, and that if he did not find her she would not be laughed at again when she was stupid, nor struck on the head when she was dull, nor sworn at until her senses swam with the terror and the din. She knew that she ran quickly on, past houses and shops and theatres ; by cabs and through streets, until she arrived at a broad road where the houses stood apart from one another, and in gardens where the frost lay heavily. Buui.ie breathed more freely as she reached this place, for she had never seen it before, and therefore she hoped that Kit had never seen it either ; bat still she dared not halt even for a moment. The broad road was succeeded by another and yet another, until the girl gained the open country, and saw tields spread out before her, and a beau- tiful glistening river, and farmhoues with their comfortable homesteads, aud the shin* ing hoai frost over all. But the day was draw- ing in by that time ; the bright co.d sky had gradually become overcast with dark lead- coloured clouds, and the snow coiamenced te falL Bonnie shivered as the keen air pene- trated her scanty clothing ; but she plodded on still the same, for her liead was burning, and every sound that came to her upon tho frosty air, she transformed into ttie fallop- ing of a horse's hoofs, following to overtake her and carry her back to Kit fasten. And so she toiled on, forgetful of hunger, cold and fatfgue, until the evening shadows fell and hid her from view. When Mr.Maaters returned with the funeral party from beeio(|| the old woman laid in her^rave, and found his wife absent with* out leave, his annoyance was not concealed in his own breast. He believed at first that Bonnie had only ' stepped out ' to visit a neighbour, and publicly averred his inten- tion of giving her 'a bit of his mind/ as soon as she steppml home again. Mrs. Bull, who, in return for hek* delicate attentions to the deceased, had been invited to partake of the funeral * baked meats,' and who was a very good-natured woman, begged Kit not to put himself out, as she would do all that was necessary in preparing the meal that ought to have been set ready for their return. 'Bonnie seemed nigh off 'er 'ead this momin' with trouble. Masters, and you musn't be 'ard on 'er if she 'ave gone off^ te 'ave a good talk with some one, and forgot the dinner for once in a way. There's nothin' so refreshin' after a death as to 'ave a good talk with them as oan feel for you.' ' Ah I ' replied Mr. Masters with a know- ing look, ' if she's bin hoff 'er 'ead this momin', 'er 'ead will be hoff 'er this evenin' if she dont get some very good excuse for this be'aviour. Why, what's a wife for, I should like to know, if a man's to come 'ome and find no dinner ready for 'im. And on a day like this, too, when we 'ave hall bin-a-tramping barter that blessed old grand- mother of her'n. Do you call that pleasure 7 cos I don't ! The honly thing I hail to look forrard to was my dinner, and if Bonnie dont account to me for this little joke of her'n, well I'm jiggered 1 that's alL' But th«i dinner appeared in due course, and was consumed and digested, and still there was no Bonnie. The^ even came to fear lest the girl should have made away with herself in her trouble, aud searched every possible Klace of concealment without effeect. Kit [asters grew more sullen and ominously sileut as the afternoon drew on, whilst his father and mother, who were present, en- \l\ THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. rpene- ilodded aming, pontho fftllop- rerUke m. And sr, ooM jwi fell ith the naalaid int wilih* onoealed finttbftt I yisit » Ib inten* /ueoon lull, who, ■ to the ke of the M« Tery t not to i do all the meal ' for their >ead this »nd you me off to d forgot There's to'ftve feel for |Diirse,uid (itill there fear leat |th herself possible .jct. Kit Lminously whilst his at, en- treated him not to be too harsh with his wife when she did oome baok ; and Mrs. Ball triad to bring forward ever^ plea she oonid devise to acconnt for Bonnie's delin^iaeney. * You know as she ain't qnite the thing in her head, Masters, and yonll promise not to be too rough with 'er when she comes 'ome— won't yer now? For reely I'm sometimes afraid she'll 'ave a fit when yon hit 'er ; she do ico so blue about the mouth and ohin.' * Yes I you must take oare what you're about, Christopher,' chimed in his mother; ' for Job Keeley finished his wife by mistake one day, you know, and is serring his time tor it now, poor fellow. It would be an orfel thing if you was to 'ave the same mis- fortune 'appen to you.' * Don't ;^ou be afraid as I'll do anythink to xit mjrself into trouble, old lady,' rejoined her amiable son , ' but if a man's not to find fault with his own property, I should like to know who is. MTwiie's so soft she don't understand AaytUng but a Ucl:in', and I've never given 'er a regular one as yet, as all the street knows." ' And I 'opes you'll never try it. Masters,' said Mrs. Bull ; ' for as sure as yon do, that gol will 'ang or dround of herself. You've given 'er quite ennff a'ready.* * 'Ave I ?' he replied with a leer, for he had imbibed considerably more liquor than was good for him that day ; ' well, jest wait till she comes 'ome,and we'U see if she can't stand a leetle more. I can't 'ave bin very 'ard ou 'er, or she wouldn't 'ave dared play me this trick.' But the funeral party dispersed, and yet the missing girl had not been seen nor heard (rf, and two or three days passed without intellisenoe being received of her. Kit Masters grumbled to himself and swore to tibe neighbours, whenever the subject of his wife was mentiened bciore him, but he seemed to feel no furthur interest in the matter, nor to be taking any trouble to search for her whereabouts. One or twice be said he supposed she had gone off with some other ' feller,' and so she might for all he cared ; for he could mt on quite as well, and a deal better ,withoutlier than with her. And it was not until the Bull and others represented to him that if any harm bad come to Bonnie, lua indifference would go very much against him in a court of law, that he awakened up to a sense of the responsibility he was incurring and the danger he possibly ran. Then, self-preservation being the first law of nature, Mr. Kit Mapters went off with a long fMC and a lugubrious tale of bereave- ment to the polioestation,and left a descrip- tion of the missing girl for the benefit of the force. Which means resulted in his reoeiving information, on the second day, that a young woman answering the description of Bonnie had been found in some fields near Putney on the night of the funeral, half frosen and nearly uoconscious, and been taken to the Putney workhouse, where she awaited recog- nition, having been found moat obstinate u refusing to give her name or addresiw * Oh,she'U speak when she sees me, never fear,' remarked Mr. Masters as he set off to see the girl who had been detained at Putaey. It was Bonnie, sure enouah I He knew It almost before he lifted his eyes to her face, by the scream of terror with which she saluted him, and the attempt she made to hide herself behind the matron, who hed conducted him to her presence. ' She seems fairly skeered at the sight of you,' remarked the matron, suspiciously, as she patted Bonnie kindly on the back. *Axt you really her husband? She looks very younff to be married.' * It you want to see the marriage lines, ma'am, I can go 'ome andfetah 'em,'replidKit Masters, sullenly. ' But she's my wife, sure enough, and I might add, more's the pity,for I'm a 'ard-working man, and 1 'aven't got the time to go skying over the country arter a woman who takes it into 'er 'ead to cut from 'ome for nothink at alL' * But there must have been some reason for her running ai»vy. Had she any trouble ? We have been qu>te unable to make her speak to us.' * Wall ! her orandmother died, if that's to be called a troiu>le, mum,' replied Kit, who felt he must be on his good behaviour in so public a place, ' Poor girl i perhai* she felt it more than vou suspected. She is not very strong, you know, and yon must take great care of her. Many women go off their heads a bit at times.' ' Oh ! Ill take oare of 'er, mum, never fear. Come on, Bonnie,' he continued to his wife ; * the cart's at the door, and we must get 'ome now. Thank the lady for takin' so much care of yon, and promise 'er you won't play sioh a foolish trick agen. You've kep' me on nice tenter-hooks tor the last week— not knowing wheer you was.' He took her hand as he spoke, and she followed him, meek and silent as a lamb, but with a look of fear and distaste upon her face, which the matron declared haunted her memory for days afterwards. ' That man's a brute, if ever I see one,' she decided in her own mind as she gave poor Bonnie farewella smile and nod. The ' brute' never spoke a word the whole way baok to Loudon, and his wife, infecring w tm 5 ;! 94 THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL. the v«ry worst from his ominous silence, wm in a state of fear that rendered Her more dead than alive when he ited her down from the cart before the does of their own house. Half the neighbours were on the alert to witness their arrival, and the Bulla, with several other friends, crowded round Bonnie, aa she reached the pavement, with many ex- pressions of sympathy and enquiries as to where she had been and how she had fared, klut Kit pushed the crowd to one side. ' Leave er alone !' he said peremj^torily ; 'a faggot as runs away from 'er usbaud without rhyme or reason 'as got to answer to 'im fust for 'er be'aviour. 1 ^avent't talked to B.)unie myself yet. You'll please to leave 'er alone till I've finished.' And he pulled the girl into the shop after him as he spoke. ' Masters — Masters 1 take care what you re adoiug of 1' cried Mrs. BulL ' I warns y«»u as she ain't over-strong, and you'll rue the hour as you touches 'er. ' The only answer Mr. Masters vouchsafed to this appeal was to consign Mrs. Bull to ou unpleasantly « arm retreat, and to slam'the door :u her face. Then he was alone with his wife, and there was no one to iuterfeie between them. But Mrs. Bull kept on ham- mering at the outside of the door with vio- leuce enough to rouse the street. • Let me in,' she repeated vehemently, 'or I'll send Bull for the police ! You're not a man— vou're a brute ! and if you dare to touch that gal with as -nuch as your little tinger, I'll go into court and swear it ageu you, as sure as my name's Jane Bull. Let me in, I say ! She ain't tit to be trusted to your 'ands M'ithout a witness, and I promised hbr grandmother as I'd stand by 'er, and 1 will ! Do you 'ear what I say. Kit Masters ? I've summat to tell you, and it you don't open the door to me, I'll get the neighbours to stove it in !' The noise she made had more effect upon Kit than any amount of threats. He was terribly afraid of the interference of the police, and they paced the little back street in Drury Lane pretty regularly. So he un- locked the door a:^ain, and, with a dogged air, asked the woman what she meant by kicking up that shindy before a decent man's house. But Mrs. Bull had pushed her portly person past him and thrown her arms round Bonnie before he had finished speaking, and then she declaied she'd never unclasp them until she'd brought Kit to h.is bearings. ■It' You may growl and swear as much as you like, Masters, but if you lay a 'and on this poor gal agen, Bull and me will be the fust to inform against you, and 'ave 'er puitected ; so you can put that in your pipe aud smoke it. It's got to be a perfect scandal, and we ain't a-(toiu' to 'ave no more of it, so there I ' ' Oh ! you ain't, ain't yer ? ' sneered Kit. ' No ! we am't, and you can make what you like of it. 'Twould be aoryin' shame at any time to see 'er cuffed about as you cuffs 'er, but specially now. Why, wheer are your eyes, Masters ? Can't you see as she's a 'uother? ' A what ? ' said Kit Masters. ' A mother ? ' repeated Bonnie, with wide open eyes. ' In coorse you are, and heverybody knows it but your two selves. So, now, 'it er agen, Kit Masters, if you dare 1' ' I Hhan't touch 'er,' replied the man almost reluctaiitly, as he turned away and walked into old Mrs. Bell's little parlour. Mrs. Bull saw that even his uncouth nature was tempttrarily softened by the intelligence she had given him, and that his wife was safe with him at all events for the present. So with a rough kiss to Bonnie and a whis* pered warning not to * haggervatw' him further, she returned to her own home, leaviutt the married couple alone with each other and the wonder of their new expecta- tions. IND OF YOL. n. VOLXJMRIII. CHAPTER L ' YOU MiTST PASS IT OFF AS YOUR OWN.' Mrs. Vivian Chaaemnre did not ask her mother nor any other lady to live with her duriui; the term of her husband's absence, LaHy William Nettleship would have been delighted to have made her way into her daughter's houae, and to have established some sort of authority there ; but Regina foresaw too well the difficulty of ever getting rid ot her again, to give any encouragement to the many hints which she threw out upon the subject. Yet she always took the greatfst care, before issuing invitations for a party, to ascertain if Lady William would be able to assist her in entertaining her ^uest8,for the whole of her social life, whilst Vivian was away, was conducted upon principles of the strictest propriety. How was It liki'ly to be otherwise ? Regina had no religion t«> kcp her straight, but the very oulduess which distressed her husband and THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. 05 and we there I ' edKit. Le wb»t ■b*me at on caffs heer are as she's a rith wide ]y knows retagen, an almost kd walked ith natnre ttelliKeDOO I wife was e present, id a whis* rate' him vn home, with each w expecta* I. lOWN.' [tot ask her with her |8 abseoce, bave been into her bstablished it Regina irer getting irattement 7 out upon I took the ^tioDS for Jam would lining her life, whilst tted upon How legina had \ the very sband and made her so unsympatheic a wife, stood her in excellent stead as a yoang and beautif al hostess, dispensing hospitality without the protection of a husband^s presence. Ho one ever had it in their power to breathe a word against the complete decorum of Mrs. Vivian Chasemore. She never re- ceived a gentleman aloue except it was dur ing an afternoon call, neither did she ever appear in public without being accompanied by some lady older thau herself. The season came on apace, and the temptations to ' gad about' were numerous. Still, Regina resisted every one that she was unable to accept under the chaperonage of Lady William, and was quoted as the most reti- cent and discreet ot all young wives ever left to pass through a London season by them selves. Whether she enjoyed the life sue had resolved upon leading, it is not so easy to determine. Her hours at home were passed in a very lackadaisical ud useless manner. She had never cared for needle- work, and she exhausted the contents of the libraries as fast as they were produced. She found it very dull driving about alone, or in company with her mother' whose sentiments had never tallied well with heirs ; but it was still duller to remain indoors by herself. She missed her husband's society more than she chose to acknowledge, especially in the evenings, and sny .lady friend who dropped in to see her after her solitary dinner was always very sincerely welcomed by Mrs. Vivian Chasemure. Amongst those ac- quaintances who had thus re-established an intimacy with her, was Miss Selina Farthin- gale, who found the house in Premier Street a very pleasant lounse in the eveuings, es- pecially sinoe her faUier had taken to spend- ing then away from home. Lady WUliam Nettleship was not so frequent a visitor after dark, unless she came by special invitation. Regina set her fac<^ against cards, and refused to receive Mrs. Ruunymede, so that her mother found it was so much time wasted to dance attendance on her daughter's soli- tude. But Selina grew to be a standing dish there, and the proud Regina, who had despised -the friendship of the lawyer's daughter in her earlier days, ended by making quite a contidante of Miss Farthin- gale. After all, they were much of the same age and standing in society, and it is very hard for a woman to bear pain anddisappoint- ment entirely by herself. Regina felt iier husband's desertion to be a great injury and insult, and she could not forbear impartini; her feelings on the subject to Selina. Thus the original cause of the quarrel was brought forward, and the name of Mrs. General Chasemore came on the ' tapis.' Miss Farthingale appeared to sympathise entirely with her friend's sense of wrong, and the absent Vivian came in for no small share of blame between them. Selina was ready to believe Mrs. General Chasemore to be a much injured woman, and counselled Regina to find out the rights and wrongs of the whole matter for herself. Consequently, when it happened that the lawyer's daughter and the General's widow met by accident in Regina's house, it was only natural that she should introduce them to one another. She fancied that the elder lady looked startled when she first pro- nounced Selina's name, but concluded she must have, been mistaken, as they had evidently never met before. Friendship, however, seeming to spring up between them as if by magic. Mrs. General Chasemore raved over Selina's appearance, manners, and accomplishments, whilst Miss Farthingale pronounced her new acquaintance to be the most charminff, clever, and conversational person she had ever known. Regina could not join, with uincerity, in her commenda- tions. Her husband's stepmother was just the sort of woman she had always set her face resolutely against, and she only tolerated her familiarity from a feeling of rebellion against Vivian, a determination to have her own way, and a curiosity to learn little by little every detail of her husband's former life, which, when probed, Mrs. General Chasemore seemed to know very little about. But then it was too late to retreat from the intimacy she had allowed her to establish. One afternoon Regina was sitting in her own room with a very uncomJortable feeling called fear knocking at her heart. Dr. Morton had not heard until that mornins that his patient had taken French leave,and left Vontnor for Norway, and he had called on her to ascertain if the news were true. When she had informed him that it was so. and that her husband's stay in the North was likely to be ^indefinitely prolonged, the medical man had shaken his head and said he was very sorry, and he wished he had been apprised of Mr. Chasemore's intention before he put it into execution. ' Mr. Chasemore is not nsualljr very open to persuasion Dr. Morton, when it runs in a contrary direction to his own wishes ; but may I ask why yon seem to attach any importance to this last freak of his ! It is becoming a very usual expedition, I believe, with the young men of the present day. ' ' Oh yes, certainly ! and nothing more 4'\ I ^ "3 i 96 THE ROOT OF ALL BVIL. delighifal, I should imagine, for a man in fall health. Bat though I do not wish to alarm you. Mrs. Chasemore, I must tell you that I did not quite like the found of your husband's lungs the last time I applied the stethoscope to them. That was the reasoti I sent him to Ventnor, from whenoe I quite expected he would return to London. The summer months may not signify so much, hut I should say that an autumn and winter on the coast of Norway might be very de* leterious to him. I trust ^ou will persuade him to return before then. ^ ' I will mention your opinion to him when I write,' replied Regina, who was anxious not to let the doctor guess under what circum- stances she and Vivian had parted with each other ; but I am much afraid there in little chance of anything I can say making Mr. Chasemore alter his dUdb. I hope yon do not think him really ill !' There was true concern in the tone with which she uttered those words, for danger to her husband meant poverty for herself ; but Dr. Morton naturally attributed her anxiety to her conjugal a£Fection. * Not exactly ill, perhaps, but his health is delicate, and requires attention. The severe chill he took on the occasion of his last attack most certainly left a little dulness in the lungs. I should have preferred his pat- ting off this fishing expedition till next year, but as you justly observe, young men are apt to be headstrong patients, and fond of having their own way. But you may as well give Mr. Chasemore a hint of what I say, and appeal to his t(ood sense to return to a warmer climate before the autumn sets in. I am t(lad to see yon lookint; so well your- self. Good-morning!' and Dr. Morton quitted th? apartment, leavine Regina with an intolerable headache and the uncomfort- able sensation before alluded to, as sole company, fle might think she looked well, but she did not feel so. The spectre that had haunted her at intervals ever since the day on which she learned that it was not in her husband's power to make any settlements upon her, rose up more hideous in her eyes than ever to confront and alarm her. She had bold the doctor calmly enouKh that she would write and try to dissuade Vivian from passing too long a time from home ; but the Jact wa } that since she had received those few cold lines from Ventnor, she had never heard from him, and had no notion of his address, Lord Charlesford's yacht was likely to be cruising here, there, and every- where, and its occupants to have no settled residence •^ntil their return. And even if she knew where to write, would any argu- ments she could use have an effect upon Vivian in his present state of mind towards her ? Would he not detect the reason of her apparent anxiety for his welfare, and throw her mercenary metivee baok in her teeth ? Would he not say that she had made life worthless to him, and the sooner he got rid of it the better f — she believed that ne would. She knew his hasty, passionate nature, and how difficult it was for him to forgive and forget a slight to lua i^aotions. So she sat alone all the afternoon, declining any of the servioes of Mrs. Perkins's suo- oeesor, whilst she ooaiured ap fear after fear, and pictured to herself Vivian being loat at sea, or dyins of a second attack :ipon the lungs, and leaving her a widow upon the mioerable interest of ten thousand pounds ; whUst that ' brute,' Sir Arthur, walked off with all the luxuries she had grown to be- lieve were necessary to her. Such dismal reflections were not calculated to make her headache better, and when dinner was an- nounced, she declined to descend to the dining-room, and ordered tea to be served in her boudoir instead. As she was in the midst of it, Mrs. General Chasemore was announced, and Reflina was thankful to welcome any one who would serve as a distraction of her unpleasant thoughts. Be- sides, Mrs. Chasemore was a sort of relation, and knew so much of the family affairs that she had no hesitation in telling her every word that Dr. Morton had said. ' Fancy, how wrons and imprudent it is of Vivian to have joined in such an expedition, under the circumstances ! So selfish too ! Not a thought of what would become of me if he never returned. | had no idea Morton considered his lungs affected. No one men* tioned it to me. If they had, I should have seat him down to Ventnor as soon as ever I received the news of Vivian's intended de- parture.' ' Ah, my dear 1 all men are the same I They can think of no one but themselves. But this sounds serious about Vivian's lungs. I remember now that the poor General told me he used to consider his chest delicate as a boy.' ' Oh, yen don't mean to say so ! ' cried Re* gina, clasping her hands in her apprehension. ' I think it is ^uite wicked that I should never have been informed of all this before. And the conditions of Sir Peregrine's will even were never disclosed to me until after I had committed myself by accepting his ro- posals. I think I am a very deceived and ujured woman ? ' ' It will certainly be a great misfortune for Tou, my dear, if your husband never comee back again. What is the interest of ten thousand pounds in consols ? — From three to see THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. f7 hM,t Mionaie him to Feotions. leoliaiBg «'• sao- Kerfear, l^lMt at pon the pon the I povnds ; ralhed off m to bo- th diimal make her WM w- d to the t)e served wMintha more wm luuikf vl to lerve M » ghti. Be* of relation, kffairsthat her every .entitUof expedition, ilfieh too! lome of me lea Morton one men* jottld have ^n as ever I mded de- Ae same ! tiemaelvei. -iierak told leUcateaea V oriedBe- krebension. Vt I ehonld before. .ine's will atil after I kg his TO- 'eived and jtortune for Ivor comee Bt of ten three to four hundred a vear I Sheer begsary ! And when you have been need to so maoh luxury too,' qnolh Mrs. General Chasemore, as she sipped her tea out of exqiiisite Japanese Gll.na. Kegina was ready to cry at the nrospect ' Oh, it cannot be !— it cannot possibly be ! ' she whimpereil. ' I should never survive the humiliation.' * And all for the want of a child to inherit too,' continued the elder lady ; 'that is the aggravating part of it. It's enough co make a woman ' ' What T ' inquired Regins finding she did sot proceed. * Well,! dare say you'll be shocked at what I am going to aay, my dear ; but it seems that the circumstances are so very peculiar that they entirely alter the case, and I've oltf^a wondered of late why it has never en- tered your own head.' ' But I don't understand what you mean,' said Regina. Mrs. General Chasemore glanced back to see if the door were closed fast before she entered into explanations. ' I have often wondered why, since there seems no prospect of an heir, that yon don't substitute one.' ' Substitute one ! Adopt another woman's baby, do you mean ?' ' Hush ! don't talk so loud, or we may be overheard. Yea, that is what I meant*' 'But in case of Vivian's death they wouldn't give the money to an adopted child, would they V * No, no, you goose ! of course not ; but what need to say it was adopted. You must pass it off as your own.' ' Oh, everybody would find that out.' ' Not if you're a clever woman 1 A woman with brains can do anything she chooses in his world, tit would only require a little plotting and planning,and a little help. You couldn^ do it alone. ' * I could never do it alL Vivian would discover the fraud at once, and never forgive me for ic !' ' What I when he is out in Norway, from which the doctor hints he is unlikely to return ? You'll not have such another oppor- tunity my dear, as long as you live. The man's out of the way for a clear twelve month, and you have the field to yourself.. Why, it would be as easy as possible ! All you would have to do would be tc go away for a while, and oome back with the baby. Do you suppose Vivian is such a conjuror that he will be able t>» cell at a glance that the child ib none of his T No, no, my dear ! trust to me. " It's a wise child," they say, ''that kuows its own father;" but depend 7 upon it, it's a much wiser father that knowi his own ohild.* Regina sat silent, ruminating on her e(Ma> paninn's words. The proposition was too stait ing a one to strike her at first sight witk auythiog but dismay. Before Mrs. Obasa> more had time to oontiaue her diaooaraa^ Miss Farthiagale walked into the room. Ah I here is our dear Seiina I' exclaimed the v^eoeral's widow. 'She and I were talkiug over this very subject yestArdav afternoon, and we mutually agreed that it would be the most feasible thing in th« world.' * I am much obliged to you and Seiina, for taking somuch interest in my private affairs,' replied Regina haughtily. 8ne did not like the idea of so delicate a matt er having been disousssed by those two women,and her pride was roused at once. ' What is it all about ?' said Seiina, looking from one friend to the other. ' Dear Regina has been very much upset this afternoon by Dr Morton telling her that he considers Vivian's lungs unsound, and that he runs a great risk in going to Norway. Yuu know what a terrible thing it will be tor her it he goes and dies out tbei-e, and leaves her without any one to inherit all these beautiful things — to say nothing of the money.' * Ji^zcept that odious creature Sir Arthur,' interposed Seiina. ' Just so. A man who has neither gene* rosity nor good feeling, and would be de* lighted to have an opportunity of revenging himself on the lady who had refused the honour of his hand, it would break my heart to see our dearRegina lef t to themeroy of the baronet — living, as you may say, on his charity, tor he wiJi never let het forget that b'lr wretched pittance is derived from his money 1 ' * It would be intolerable I ' murmured Re* gina, as she laid her head down upon her hands. ' I would rather bnaak stones upon the road myself I ' rejoined Seiina. ' And I would do anything to spite Sir Arthur, and keep him out of the property ; so you m^y depend upon my aid, dear, whenever it may be required.' ' Mrs. Chasemore has been making the most monstious proposal to me,' said Regina, looking up " with a sickly smile ; ' but it is uttetly impossible I ' / 'I don't see that at all,' said Seiina, stoutly. ' Have yon heard it, then ? ' ' We were talking it all over yeBterday,aa she has just told you. I know what I should do in such a case. No doubts nor lears III < ^-1 iiii I':: t 'li- ii ' 'fi. $. M THE BOOT OF A.LL EVIL. •hottld stop DM, for »f t«r all, if it w«re found •■t, nu ooe ii likelv to proMonte a Ud^ fai your position. Bssidas, how shoold it be?' ' * Oh, people tell these things. The ler- ▼ante would be the first to betray me.' 'You mustn't trust servants. Ko one should know it but a couple of real friends like your mother-in>law and myself. It would be as easy as ABC, if you only tried it' * It is not to be thought of,' returned Re- f ina , yet she did think of it attain and af{ain whilst her friends were with her, although she resolutely turned the conversation to other topics. Miss Farthingale was obliged to be home by ten o'clock that e /eniug, and a« the hour approached, she roso to go. As she kissed Regina at parting, she whispered : * Don't be such a nany, my dear, as to let all the money slip through your fingers for the want of a little pluck 1' And Regina answered earnestly : ' I will speak to you about it again, but whatever you do, mention it to no one ;' and then she returned thouehttuUy to the boudoir, whence Mrs .General Ohasemore showed no signs of an immediate removal. ' I am glad that ^irl is gone, my dear. She is a good girl, and quite devoted to you, and fou may trust her as you would myself ; but want tohave a litlie talk alone with yon. You must think over what I said to you, Begina. Things are looking very serious ; and if you don't make an effort to help your- ■elf now, you may never have another oppor> tonity. If ow, I'll tell you what I'll do for yon, if you like. I'll accompany you abroad •B soon as the season is over, and we'll manage the matter quietly there. If Vivian finds out that you were with me at the time, he can but scold you for disobedience ; for after all, I am his father's widow,and there's BO harm in your being seen with me ; but the chances are, that he'll be ao delighted at the idea of having a son and heir, that he'll be able to think of nothing else.' * Do you think he would be so very much pleatied then ?' * I don't think — I'm sure of it ! Nothing sours a man'ti temper like having no children, espeuinlly under such circumstances as his. I sUouidn't wonder if all your late differences have arisen from that cause. It's very unfair, of oour8e,|but it often sets a man against his wife. It's so unusual !' * Yes, so it is,' acquiesced Regina, with a sigh. * Well, you have no power to remedy it in the right way, my dear, and so I really think you would be quite justified in doing the next best thing you can for yourself. It will be quite a pious fraud, I am sure, for it will give Vivian no end of pleasure, and secure you the advantages that should be yours by right. And if your husband doesn't letuni, why, it will be simply invaluable to yon !' ' But — but — how could I manage about — about— the baby ?' jerked out Regina, after much hesitation. ' I'll manage that, my dear ; yon must have nothing to do with it You mustn't appear in the matter, so as to render after-reoogni- tion an impossibility.' ' But won't it be very difficult V ' Difficult !' echoed Mrs. General Chase- more, with a hoarse laneh. ' What, in this big, overgrown Babylon, teeming with its hundreds and thousands of wretched little brats that come into the world.uuwanted and unwelcome : If I wished for a doaen to- mor.ow, I could procure them all by noon. But it requires caution, my dear— great cau- tion. The child must be newborn, the par- ents must not know to whom they have sold it, and they must imagine it is going out of the country. Then there will be no chance of their coming in contact with or reoognising it again. But you know what young babies are- -all alike ! There will be no difficulty in the matter at all.' ' I wish I could think so,' said Regina ; *■ ii would take such a load off my breaat.' ' If that ia the case, think so, and be re- lieved. I would not deceive you for the world I Now, just picture it for yourself. You have not been well all the season. The heat has tried you, and you feel you will be better for a change. You go abroad with me. After a .while, you write home to your mother, and tell her you have expectations. We post the letter at one place, and move on to aputher, without leaving our address. That is iu case she takes it into her head to follow and nurse you. Then, Jat the proper time, we write and say that all is over, and a few mouths afterward, you return home with your ohild iu state ! Where is the difficul- ty?' ' But where shall we get the child ? ' ' I have already said leave that to me 1 Selina and I will manajco it between us. W« may profess to be in Rome,, or the Pyre- nees, or any iuaucessible place ; but w e need nut go fartUer than Paris ; and, when ne- cessary, I can return and taka the infant over. Yuu can meet me somewhere on the road, and we will go to some quiet town to- getber, and pretend we have parted with tha child's nurse iu a hurry, aud want another. We will have it baptised and registered abroad iu your husband'aname, aud the de«;d will be done. ' THB ROOT OP ALL KVIL. i. ItwUl itwiU leoure Dun by retuM. jTOU I' about— la, •fter uit have t »pp«« •reoogni- alChMe- , inthU with its ed little giuted and doaea to- by noon. great oau- the par- have sold ug out of o ohanoe of K>gDUiinfif it uug babies lifficulty in legina ; ' it aut.' and be re- ou ior the yourself. |,iBon. The [you will be 'iroad with me to your ;p«ctations. id move oa ar address. [er head to the proper over, and a k home with [he diffioui- Ludr ihat to me I letwtjen us. Ir the Pyre- ^ut w • need when ne- the infant Jiere on the It town to- led with the lit another. 1 registered Ind the detA 'Thev won't make inquiries abont doc- tors and so forth, will they ? ' 'It's not onstomary upon such oouasious ; bat if you thiak it probable, I shall have my story ready. You travelled too muoh, and wbre takeu ill at a roadside iou, all aloue witlime.' ' How clever yon are I ' said Reinna. ' I believe I am ; but this will be child's pthy to me. I would go through a much graater risk than that u) ueoure your welfAre, B^gina. It seems a shame to me that Viviau wbose vrhole existence has been one course of sf (fishness, should enjoy this money for h^b lifetime, and then leave yoa almoac peu- nQess — and that for no fault of youi* owu ! ' 'It does seem hard, doesn't it? Bub Ijdon't think it troubles Vivian much. He is tired of me already. I am sure of it!' 'Ah, my dear, you'll see the difference this blessed baby will moke 1 Nothing will be good enoush for them. You'll be the most beautiful and charming and angelic woman in creation, and all you do and say will be "wisest, disoreetest, virtuest, and best !" I really think you owe it to Vivian as well as yourself to procure him this enjoy- ment. He'll never be the wiser; and "where ignorance is bliss," you know, " 'tis folly," etc., etc. No one well be the worse either, unless it is that covetous creature the baronet ; ' and I'd do it to spite him, if for no better reason.' 'I believe you really wish to help me,' murmured Regina, ' but it seems a great risk to run.' ' Oh ! you are faint-hearted over the idea to-day because it is new to yon, but wait till to-morrow, my dear, and you'll see it in a different light. Well, I mustn't stay longer now, or I shall be locked out of my rooms, so goood>night, and don't be such a fool as to have any scruples at out-witting Sir Arthur.' Both her friends had left her with the aam ed to soften. She lay awake all night, conning over the feasibility of putting the plan wuoh Mrs. General Ohasemore had suggested to her into execution, nntil it seemed to be ths only way out of the diffioolties that an* vironed her, and from beins impossible and not to be thought of,it suddenly assamed an appearance of the greatest desirability. A few hours before she had recoiled at the mere idea of practising such a vast deoep- tioa ; now she longed to put it into progress at once, and end her apprehensions and sus- pense. So easily does the evil spirit that divides the possession of every human nature with Heaven gain a victory over the voioe of conscience and still its remonstrances with an almighty ' must.' CHAPTER IL ' CAN WX HOLD OCB TONOVM ? ' Thetwoaroh-oompaniou inthis pretty littla plot held many a consultation upou ways and means, whilst they left their victim to brood over and digest all they had said to her. For some reason of her own, Mrs. General Ohasemore declined to meet Selina at her father's house, but the young lady was her own mistress, and had every opportunity of holding appointments with her friends else* where. ' Of course, I need not tell you that w« must take every precaution to preserve an inviolable secrecy in this matter,' said Mrs. Ohasemore one day, as they paoed together Deneath the shade of the trees in Hyde Par^ ' for our own sakes as well as Regina's — and the chief question is ' Can we hold oar tongues ? ' By which she meant, ef course, ' Can yoa hold your tongue t ' as she looked at Selina with her big watery eyes. i^' Well, if we engage in it, I suppose wa should naturally du that for our own sakes. I am not sure that, if discavered, it wouldn't be brought into something like felony. There was a case of the same sort the other day, you koaw 1 ' ' Ah 1 yes 1 but there the husband prose* cuted, and Vivian woald never do that. Ha is as proud as she is. 'J'he only danger of dis* covery lies with ourselves.' ' I don't fear that at aU,' said Selina. '^ ^ li^ ■'f 1| foo THE BOOT OF ALL EVIU *,Wh»t I thiak of |iuo«t, it the ninouiit of good we thAll g«ir- by iuuirferiug in the •ff»ir. It u of very little momunt to ua, after *11, who gete the mooey, «ud Regine herself wm never any pertiouiar friund of mine.' * Perhftpi not I But you like the haionet fltill leee, if I have anderetood you rightly. For my own part I am iuteitwiiu^ myeell lu the matter purely to help poor Kegma. I know what Vivian ii,and 1 can't help pit) iug her. And ihe couldn't puMibly uiauage it bj herMlf.' ' Ho I but ihe ia clever enough to find plenty of people who would help her I' ' True 1 and thoee people would uorive all the advantages of kbvpmg her acortst. For there will be advantages, my dear Seliua I over and above a nice trip abroad for both of us. The fact that it is m our power at any moment to betray her, will gain us a very substantial fooiiug iu the house, uud a liberal share in the luxuries we have plauued to enable her to retain. As it shouia do, for it is not to be expected that we should risk our reputation : to so serious an extent and receive nothing in exchange,' said Mrs. Gen* eral Chasemore, with the air of a woman who had a reputation to risk. ' Of course noc, ' replied Seliiia, ' and, as yon Bay,there must i • ad van Ages in obligiug a woman with such a oommauU of mouey. Have you spoken to Regina again about itr ' Yes ! I was with here last evening, and we settled that we would leave town together the end of the month. The soouer it is all over now, I think the better. Then, if you ean manage your part of the business and get ypur papa's consent, you can join us an soon as it is convenient to yourself.' ' I have no one's consent to ask,' replied Selina. ' I have long ceased to consult my father about any of my private arrangements, and it will only be necessary for me to tell him I have been invited to join Mrs. Vivian Chasemore abroad to render all that part ''easy. The only doubt I have is about the other tMng,' * if tbere should be auy difficulty on that ■oore, 1 will return to Eagland and fetch it myself. But the only real fear is lest your identity stionld be discovered during the transaction.' ' I will take care of that 1 I know how to disguise myself so that my own father shall not recognise me in the street. It is to whum to apply first that has pnxiled me. But I have thought of some one. * Wboisthat?' * Do you remember my telling you that when he was searching for Vivian Chase. more, paps offered a reward of lifty pooikU in the newspapers to any one who should give information of his whereabouts T Th«in* formation came through an anonymous letter but the writer said that if oorfeot he would present himself at papa's office later on with a uupy of tiie letter sent, to prove his iden- tity and claim the reward.' ' Yes i i think you did tell me so, and I remarked that I wouldn't have offered fifty peuce for the scapegrace. ' ' ^apa told me that Mr. Chasemore was as curious as himself to find out who the writer jf the letter could possibly be ; and when a month afterwards he culled for the money, i>e insisted upon first haviug his name and address. He gave some oame (I forget it now, but 1 can easily get it out of papa) which neither he nor Mr. Chasemore had ever heard of before. They sent to the address given, however, and verified the man's story, so they had no excuse fur with* holding the reward from him, although they uould not make him confess how he had obtaiued the information that the avtor Waverley was Vivian Chasemore. He was doggedly reserved, and to all their questions only replied that he had guessed it some* how.' ' Well, my dear, what has this got to do with our present business 7 ' ' Because I've often heard papa say since in alluding to that man, that he'a never met with a mure impenetrable-looking counte* oauue, aud that if he had auy secret work to do and wauted a confederate, he is the persun he wuuld choose. So I thought it would be a good idea to apply to him.' Capital ! You couldn't do better 1 And if he kept his mouth so firmly closed for lifty pounds, what will he not do for a hun- dred ? Are you sure you can get at his name without suspicion ? ' ' Sure 1 Papa keeps all his oorrespo • dence papers at home, and I have continual access to his keys He generally leaves them with me when he spends the evening uut. I shall know the name long before! need it.' ' It will be better not to apply to this person too soon.' * I don't mean to do uo I I suppose a week will be ample time to give him for his search. My greatest difficulty is to know what to do with the creature when I've sot it' ' My dear, you must bring it straistht to me I I shall return to England for the oc- casion. I've quite decided upon tiiat. The respousibility will be too great for you alone. But you had better fetch the thing away. With your smtJl, slight figure you THE ROOT or ALL EVIL. 101* bain* l«it«r iroald I with id«a- Midi fifty ITMM writer vheiiA aoney. ue and »rget it [ p»P») >re b*d to the led the ir with* ^hthey he had B actor iie wM ueetions t tome* / ot to do lay linoe )ver met oounte- Bt work . ia the ought it im.' rl And >«ed for r a hnn* at his rreapo • oDtinual leayes evenins )efore I to this ippoeea for hia know I I've Kot litcht to the 00- Lt. The Ifor yoa le thing [ure yom tte ao mnoh more easily disraised than Tani. And when I know means By whioh to keep it qniet nntil j have rejoined Regina.' * How nooommonly strange she will feel with it/ laughed SeUna. ' Oh, she will soon get over that I Bat yon ■net make one very strict condition, Selina I that the child it perfectly healthy. Don't be let in for some sio'tly brat who will die af&er all, and waste both onr time and trooble.' * Mrs. Obasemore t why run the risk of eonreying a child over from England? There roost be heaps of French brats that wonld answer the parpose 1 ' ' No, my dear, there are not ! The national oharactersstics are too strongly marked. A French or Italian child might exoite saspicion at once. The boy must be Bngliah and bine-eyed. Besides, the Eng- lish poor are far more likely to part with their offspring than foreigners. See the namber of infanticides we have and the way in which oar ^oandling Hospital is kept stocked. It is very inconvenient, I own, bat it is quite necessary that the child should be transplanted from this country. ' ' I shall not mind it ao much since you have promised to return to assist me ; but I ooi^ess I felt very unequal to carrying out that part of the plan by myself.' The season ended that month, and with the prorogation of Parliament Regina slipped away from London with Mrs. General Chase- more, leaving only a letter behind for her mother, to say that she felt so ill she had ■nddenly made up her mind to go abroad for a few weeks' change with a 'lady friend,' and had no time to call in Kensington before her departure. Selina, who was ieft in town was condemned to listen to many a tirade from Lady William's lips on the iugratitude of her daushter at not having acquainted her earlier with her plans. ' No time to call, indeed,' said the irate mother; 'what a ridiculous excuse for a woman to make who has a carriafle and a oonple of horses continually at her disposal I It really makes me quite ashamed of my own flesh and blood. And who is this "lady friend" with whom Mrs Vivian Chasemore has so suddenly made up her mind to leave England without even taking the trouble to say " good-bye" to her poor mother ? What is her name, Selina Farthin- gale, and where does she come from ? Please to tell me that.' * Indeed I cannot tell you anything, Lady William 1 Regina has not so much as written me a note! Why should she? We all know that fashionable women have their little fancies on occasions, and' where money is no obstacle they are likely to gratify them. I suppose she did go ofT in a great hurry at the last, and had no time to think of any* thing.' * Very pretty behaviour indeod I If sho wanted some one to aooompany her, why did't she ask her mother ? A lew weeks' change would have done me a world of good as well a« herself. But I am no one, of course, and never was in Miss Regina's consideration.* ' I am sure she has been looking very ill all the season,Lady William.and has lostflesh considerably. I can't imagine what is the matter with her,' repliwt Selina, who had been coached as to what she should say and do, by Mrs. General Chasemore. ' Fretting after the gentleman in Norway perhaps,' remarked Mrs. Runnyemde sarcas* tically. ' That is the way with women. They never value a thing nntil they've lost it' ' More likely worrying herself about *' the missing heir", 'chimed iu Lady William spite* fully ; ' though cryins never remedied that evil yet. She had much bitter resign hurself' to the inevitable with a good grace. ' * I have not heard Regina utter a complaint on that score lately,' said Selina ; ' and,after all, Mr. Chasemore's life is as good as her own.' ' Nn, my dear, it isn't I The lives of no men are as good as those of women. We are much the tougher sex of the two, though it isn't romaniiiu to proclaim it. Hon ever ,if anything happens to Viviau, Regina must manage for herself. I can't have her coming back upon me. Our tastes never did agree and never will. She was trymg enouKh, I'm sure, as a girl, and I'm quite afraid to thiuk what she would be as a married wo- man.' ' Pray don't talk of such a melancholy con* tingenoy, dear Lady William. Mr. Chase- more is the picture of health as a rule, and we must hope they have both long lives before tnem.' ' Ah ! you don't know as much as I do,my dear. Those " pictures of health" are just the ones to pop off most suddenly, and I've had a presentiment of evil ever since Regina was such a fool as to marry without any proper settlements. ' ' But if he does die she'll soon find another husband,' remarked Selina, with that beauti* ful uisregard of all that is sanred with which the young ladies of the present century are wont to invest the order of matrimony. Lady William nodded her head oracularly* ' Perhaps she may ; but it's not e\rery woman that gets it second ohane. However, if Regina does not, it won't be for want of trying.' mi Hi- Mf THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL With wbiuh dubious oomplimcnt to h«r only •born, Lady Willi»m N«ttlMbip reti^rned to tne oontempUtion of her game of otida. But about a we«k afterwardii,wh«in Kogiua kad been a month on the Continent, and Ladv William and Mra. Runnymevn. low T Did you ever meet a Mrs. Brown- low in Premier Street, Selina?' ooutinaed Lady Wdliam, suspioiouslv. *I m not sore. Yes, I tnink I did once A nice old lady with white hair. Is that the same?' ' I cannot tell you. My daavbtar's friends are not mine. At any rate Regina seems tu prefer Mrs. Brownlow's company to her mother's. Did I hear you say that you had been invited to join my daughter later on, Selina ?' * She did ask me to do so— but perhaps after this news she may wish to postpone mv visit. She will have other things to think of besides entertaining any friends. And Mr. Chiksemore will be returning home, surely.' ' I don't know. Regina doesn't mention him, nor the date that she expects thia im- portant event to take jplftce, nor anything except the bare fact. 'That is her unpleasant way you know. She never could write a satisfactory letter.' ' I suppose her mind was' too full of th«» important news to think of anything else. Everything would appear of trival con- sequence after that! But does she mention no probable time for her return to . £ug- Und?' ' Not a word, so I shall alter none of my plans on her account. I conclude, of course, that she had written to her husband, and I hupe he may come home aud look after her himself. It's bis business and not mine. But 1 thought I mustn't leave(£ugland with- out tellinu you of her prospects, though there's many a slip, you know, 'twixt the cup and the lip. So, good-bye, my dear, and should you decide, alter all, to pay Regina a visit, of course yuu will let me know.' To hear Lady William talk one would really have imagined that she was annoyed, rather than pleased to hear that her daughter's ardent wishes were to be at last fuitiiied. Whether the Vivian Ohasemoree did or did not have an heir to inherit their property, could make uo real difference to her personal interests, but it would deprive her of the questionable pleasure of lamenting over her dauK^ter's disappointment and abusing dead Sir Peregrine for having made so iuiamous a will. 1 here are some people — a good many, unfortunately — who cease t« care for their friends as soon as they are prosperous. Whilst they are wicked or poor and can be condemned or commiserated, they are so much stock-in-trade to them ; but let 1 them once return to the paths of virtue or Irise above want, and they are no longer worth talking «bout. Seliua acquiesced in all Lady William said, although she had not THB ROOT OF ALL BVIU Kl iinorw thoir Doe to deprive ^eotioK and made [people 186 t« fey are jrpoor I, they Ibut let rtue or I longer peed in tad not the leaat intention of acqaainting her with any of her own plana beforehand. ' It ii 10 raaon raaier to invent what one haa done than what one is goinft to do/ ihe deuided in mental cogitation with hereelf. But the intelligeno* that the drat ihell had been tired into the enemy's oamp, roused her to the fact that her tnm for action wonid arrive before long. ' Regina haa been euoain){ enoagh, I lee, not to commit heraelf by nmntionintt any datea : lo that I am to wait ordere, I auppoae, before I take action in the matter.' Nothing ooald have happened more favnnrably than it had done for the carrying •at of the contemplated f rand. Mr. Farthin- gale iuTariably took hi« month's holiday in Au^uHt, and Selina's 'avowed intention of shortly joining her friend MnkVirian Cha8e< more on the continent, was sufficient excuse for her stayinc behind him in company with the woman left in charge of the house. Before his departure, however, she had obtained the address she oeeded, and with* out the : more's address, and signed by 'Joseph Mason, 8, Victoria Cottetfes, Richmond.' To Mr. Mason, therefore, she was quite pre- pared to pay a visit as soon as she received her cue from Mrs. General Chasemore. It was not long in coming. Before another week elapsed she had a note to say her friend was about to cross to Dover, and would be ready to join her as soon as she telegraphed that she had succeeded in her object The same afternoon, therefore, found Miss Far- thia((ale on her road to Richmond. She had boosted to Mrs. Chasemore that she could disgust herself so that her own father should not know her in the Btreet,and the boast was true. No one would have recognised in the grey -haired, spectical woman in * decent black,' who took her seat in the Richmond on.'aibu8 that afttjrnoon, the gay, flaunting Seli'na Farthingale. She carried her own latch-key, and had taken care to send the ehar-woman on a distant errand before she left home ; so that she slipped up the area* steps without sny notice being taken of her. When she arrived in Richmond she had some little difficulty in finding Victoria CottagM and it was past six o'clock wh«i she came apon them, and found Mr. Joeeph Mason with a choi*« felt that some policy was required in op«,. ing the delicate business ^he had oome np- on, and beat about th^ bush accordingly. ' Yon are Mr. JoMuh Maaon, I believa T ' ■ho commenced politely. ' Yea, ma'am, that fa« my name,' respond* ed Mr, Maaon, as he rose to his feet and let the two youngsters slide down upon th« floor, where they dung round hit anklat liks leechea. ' Prav don't let me disturb yon I I am ia want of a sensible and trustwor.hy person, Mr. Mason, to assist in a very delicate an« dertaking, and yon have beeu specially r«« oommenaed to me.' ' Yes ma'am I ' said Mr. Mason, pulliog his forelock. ' I'm much obliged. I sup- pose it's rookery, ma'am. I believe I am thought to be an able and at rockery and doh-like work.' ' Oh no T it's not rockery. ' ' Fancy gardening, ma'am, p'r'aps. I can't take a jub by the day, just at present, b«:- cause they're a laying out of the hotel-gar* dins afresh, and I'm engaged there by the week ; but I oould give a goodish bit of time hafter hours, if that would suit you, till I was free.' ^ ' No , my bnsinnss with yon has nothing to do with gardening.' Mr. Mason stared. He couldn't imagin* what other business ho was good for. ' I have been recommended to you by the firm of Farthingale and Lucas, in the City, as a very shrewd and able man to do a little job for me in which I need assistance.' ' Farthingale and Lucas, mum I Be they the lawyers' (Mr. Mason pronounced it ' liars ') ' as I seed ouce on account of a friend, now bctter'n two years and more •go?' ' Yon saw fchem on account of yourself, I think. You ;eceived a reward of fifty pounds from them for finding a gentleman they had lost sight of, und signed the receipt for it. Don't you ' ^member ?' ' Oh ye . mum, sure ena£r I' responded the man, reddening to his e&rs like a peony. ' Mr. Farthingale thought you showed S9 much good sense and skill en that occasio^ that he recommended me to come to you to help me in a little difficulty of the same sort' ' Another genelman lost ?' said Mr. Maaon interrogatively. ** ' Not exactly. Something ia to be pro- cured this time. But I cannot speak to yon f it here. It must be kept a complete o .]:'. i 104 THE BOOT OF ALL EVIL. itwl wm I h .( !l ! Mortt, •ltd yon will be paid handaomely for holding your tougtie.' Mr. Maaon reapooded to thia appeal by ahoving hia two yoangateni out iato a baok'^irden, and auppiog the bolt of the door. * Yoa'U be aa aafe to apeak here, mam, aa anywhere, for my good woman'a gone with the yottogeet to aee her mother who'a bin took aiok, and there'a no one within call but them two little 'una*' ' It is beoaufe td the cleTemtoaa yon ahowed in findios that gentleman that t have come to yon, Mr. Maaen,' repeated Selina, emphati- eaily, 'aud beoauae the lawyer said you' knew ao wftll how to hold yoar tongue.' * Well, mum, I oan do that when I sees fit ; and I never waa a man of many words.' 'Just so. loomeon behalf of • a lady, a foreign oountesa. very rich and good, who wanta to adopt a little Eoglish boy ; and she ia willing to give a hundred pounds down to any one who will proouro her a hdalthy new-born male infant with fair complexion •nd blue eyea.' ' A hundred pounds t ' ejrculated Maaon. ' Well, some folks can't know what to do with their money, mum. A hundred ponnda I I only wish I had a youngster of the age, I'd soon bundle 'im off, 1 know ! And when would they require the child, wuat' * In a week or two. The countess will send a person expressly to England to re- ceive it and pay the money ; but the parents of the child must understand that it is going far away, right out of the country, perhaps to Mexico, and that they will never see it again.' * Oh, they're not likely to want to I ' said Mabon, disposing of that difficulty aa if it were too absurd to mention. ' The only question in my eyes is the time. However, mum, if you'U leave it to me and a fren' as I've got — a very cute and able man, as has •Ilaya got hia weather eye open — I fancy I'll 'ave news for you in a few days.' * But how shall you be able to let me know!' * Couldn't you leave your address, mum T ' Bat Selina was too astute to leave e^en & falae addreas. ' I have none. I return to the countess to>night, but I can fix a day to meet you here again. Will this day week do T ' ' I've no fear but what we'll have news for y ftn by that time, mum ; but I wouldn't like to aak you to oome here,f or though my wife's a good enough woman in her way, yet they all have tongues,and precious loug 'uns too I saving your p'resenoe, mum ; and if she once hold of * tit' bit like thia here, she wouldn't rest till ahe'd told it roand Rich- mond.' ' Oh, that will never do ! Ia there anjr place in London where I oonld aee yua pn- vately T' * vvell,that'8je8t what I was a-thinking of, mum. Do ye happen to know a tripe ahop at the comer of Bull'a Coart, jeat a rannia' out of Long Acre ¥ Selina did not happen to know the aristo- cratic domicile in question, but she promised to find it in pursuit of Mr. Mason. ' Well, if you oan do that, mum, my fren' and I will meet yovL there thia day week,and talk with ye private over this matter.and say whether it will be possible to do it at the price. I s'pose the foreign parties wouldn't go over a hundred pouncu at a stretch now, would they ?' ' No, certainly not t' replied Selina, with decision. She had been warned by Mrs. General Ohasemore that as soon aa ever the object of her aearch became known, parental affection would go up to a premium, and her abettors would attempt to impose upon her. ' A hundred pounds is more than enough for a newborn infant.' * Ay, but you were so particular about the colour of his hair and eyes, that I thought there might be a difficulty you see, mum. And it must be a boy, too I 'Tain't as if the parties waa willin' to take anythink I' ' Yes, it must be a boy, and a strong, healthy child into the bargain. Nothing else will do. So if you think you can't undertake the job, let me know, and I vrill go else- where.' But this threat was too much for Mr. Mason. He promised faithfully to meet the lady at the tripe shop in Bull Court on the day in question ; and Selina wrote word to her friends that the first step in the trouble- some business had been accomplished. CHAPTER III. 1l'j> BKTTKR BRING IT ARTSB DARK.' When Kit Masters brought home his run- away wife from the Putney poorhouse, and learnt, through the rough l?.p8 of the butcher's wife, of the prospect that lay before her, surprise at the unexpected intelligence over* powered for a time all other considerations. Not that the news afforded him any pleasure. Like most mean and cruel natures, he hated animals and children, and, strange to say, in taking a wife it had never entered his head to seriously contemplate the probability of her bringing him a family. Bonnie had ;«w. THE ROOT OF ALL KVIL. IM it round Bioh* lid there anjr yud pn- rM a-thinking ot, jnow a tripe shop t, jeeta nuuun' know the ariito* bat she promised Mason. A, mnm, my fren' this day week,and lis matter.and say le to do it at the , parties wouldn't at a stretch now, plied Selioa, with warned by Mrs. M soon as ever the e known, parental premium, and her I impose upon her. re than enough for artioular about the I, that I thought y you see, mum. >1 'Tain'tasifthe ) anythink !' ly, and a strong, {ain. Nothing else ou oan't undertake dl will go else- )oo much for Mr. thfuUy to meet the Bull Court on the ina wrote word to itep in the trouble- scomplished. III. r ABTKft DARK.' ught home his run* ley poorhouse, and l?ps of the butcher's at lay before her, d intelligauce over- her considerations, d him any pleasure, il natures, he hated strange to say, in r entered his head the probability of lily. Bonnie had thought of it sometimes — ^in the sweet won- dering way young married women will— as • misty dream, floatinx somewhere in the fatnre, bat t srer coming near enoogh to be realised. She was slower of oomprehension than most other girls, andhadevennererasked herself whether the fading of the intangible rision would prove a disappointment or a comfort. Bat sne had sense enough to under- stand all that Mrs. Bell's warning contained for her in the fntare, and as the grand new idea sunk down into her breast, and became established there, it blossomed into a sonroe of the deepest happiness. But Mr. Masters viewed the matter in a very different light It was a hindrance that tied his hands and forced him to cnrb his temper, and he sulked with it in consequence. Brute as he was, he felt that he dared not give Bonnie a blow, now that the fact of her maternity was patent to the neighbourhood. The wives of his aoqnaintance would have risen up in a body and ' lynched ' him had he laid a hand on her. So he was compelled to take refuge in bad temper, and he growled and ^cowled at the poor child, day uter day, until nothing bat the prospect of whst was coming to solace her, could have kept her spirit from breaking altogether. Her woman friends were very kind to her at this juncture, and their sympathy helped to cheer and sustain her. All true mothers feel an interest in a girl's first trial, and Bonnie was so simple and childlike, that they wondered amongsc themselves how she would ever go through it all, or be a fit guardian for the little one when it had struggled into the world. But the instinct of maternity is great, and it came to Bonnie's assistance now. The same con- sciousness of dignity that invests even a poor little animal surrounded by its young, de- scended on her youthful head like a slory and raised her to a level with her fellows. Her shiftless fingers, which had bo often called forth a rebuke for laziness from her old grandmother, learned tc lew and fell quickly enough when their aid was needed to manufacture little garments in which to envelope the coming babe. She no longer seemed to heed ■■ it's sharp rejoinders for unintentional offences : even his cruel taunts on her slow gait and loss of comeliness lost their power tc provoke her. If she sighed one moment, she smiled the next, as in an- ticipation i>he felt the promised child's arms about her neck, and its kisses pressed upon her cheek. That any accident could happen to rob her of the coming blessing, never by any calculation entered Bonnie's head. Mrs. Bull had a baby every year, and so had Mrs. Martin, and several others in the street ; and all their babies grew fat and strong, and big, and kicked their chubby legs out at Bonnie as she passed, and made her thiiA, witk quickened breath of the dav when she should carry her own darling in her arms. So the spring and summer months dragsed them- selves eway, and the voung mower's step srew more fingering and slow, and her face became drawn and thin, and the neighbours spoke of her time of trial as being very near. Kit Masters didn't like the stote of thugs at all. The hollow truce he was forced to main- tain with his wife had the worst possible eT^t upon his nature, and every time she annoyed him he swore inwardly that he'd pay her double as soon as the affair was over. A dozen times a day too he would e've vent to his hope tl^it 'the brat would I dead before it ever saw the light,' and that this would be the first ann last time Bonnie would ever make such a fool of him. He hadn't mariied a wife, he maintained, to have her cobblinff at children's smocks half the day, and be laid up for the other half, and if she couldn't bestir herself to look after his comfort, why he must get someone who would, and that was the long and short of it. Bonnie had a violent fit of weeping over some speech of the sort the very day that her little boy came into the world. Kit had been scolding her all the mornins, until he made her so ill that he frightened himself, and ran off in haste to procure the attendance of Mrs. BnIL But when after several hours of sharp suffering, Bonnie heard her baby ciy, she thought she was rewarded for every pain this world had afforded her. From that mo- ment her mind appeared lost to all outward things except the little creature thai lay in her arms. She never asked for Kit ; and though at the in-ntation of Mrs. Bull, h« did once enter the sictc chamber and look down with a grunt at the young mother and her child, Bonnie never raised her eyes to his during the intervier, but cuddled her little one closely to her breast, as though she feared that the glance of its father's eye micht blisht, and wither it, as it had blighted all we happiness of her own heart. It was at this period that Mrs. Bull made the round of the neighbours' hou*es in the little street in Dmry Lane, eivinff it out as her opinion that Kit Masters was jjust the 'most un- nateral ill-feelin' creetur ' she had ever met with. ' D'ye think he's took that poor babby in 'is arms, or even so much as noticed it, Mrs. Martin,' she said to the sympathising cob- bler's wife. 'Not 'e— the brute! '£'d never 'ave entered the room if I hadn't kind of shoved 'im in. And then 'e 'adn't 101 THB BOOT OV ALL EVIL. po.>r d«*r — ^Dot And 'e doM If that poor » word to My to the oi thauka, nor noffio. auaght bat worrit 'er. iuueroent hopoiis 'is moath even, e's down apon 'em both, and loreemin' to 'er to ■het 'inn np ; and 'e gmmblne at 'er| bein' hupetairs and not fit to work, as if a gal ooiild beldownobud abont when her babby'i not four days old. Lor' 1 Mrs. Martin, ma'am I'm tare I ofien ouMcd Ball in my 'art at sioh times, and I detsay yoa've done the same byyoar'n,bat I'll never do itagen, not if I Uvea to makeup my baker's dozen. Bat Bonnie don't seem to take no notice of 'is goin's on, that's one comfort I She lies there all day, smilin' at the yonng 'an, and talkin' and cooin' to it, while 'e's a-swearin' and cassia' down below, and a-wishin' they was both andergroand, till 'twoald make yo{ir blood carle in yoar veins to listen to 'im. ' ' 1 wonder it don't kill the pore gal I' ejaoalated Mrs. Martin, who had had her share of connnbial oaffing and abase. ' Bless yoa ! she don't seem even to hear it 1 She's as wrapt ap in her boy as a oat over her kitten.' * Bonnie was always a bit soft,' remarked the cobbler's wife. * 1 doubt whether she'll make a good mother.' ' Let 'er alone 1 she'll do well ena£F, I warrant. There ain't too much love in this world, Mrs. Martin, and it no use blamia' them as can feel it. But I pities the poor child when 'e gets old enuff for a wippin'.' And meanwliile, Bonnie, ignorant and fearless of dan^er^lay in her bed and cooed to her new-found son. On the day and at the hour appointed, Selina Farthingale found her wav to the tripe-shop at the corner of Bull Court, and met Mr. Joseph Mason and his friend. She did not like the air of mystery and mutual understanding with which the bo wsy mistress of the tripe-shop ushered her into the greasy back parlour* nor the looks of the ' cute ' fentleman (no less an one than Mr. Kit lasters) to whom Mr. Mnson introduced her , but she remembered for her comfort that she was offeotually disguised, and that if the interview resulted in nothing she would not be compromised. So she tried to make herself as affable as possible under the eircumstacces. The whole of the concocted story which she had toll Mr. Mason had to be gone through again for the beneht of Mr. Masters, who listened to it with one eye closed and a huge stick thrust into his mouth. ' Que hundred pounds 1 ' he repeated, as his friend had done before him. ' And you're authoriaed to pav that theer som down on the oally mam, if so be yoa «an get what yoa want?' 'Jastsol Thenumiay is at home, safe enoaah, and when the mfant ia handed over I sbaU pay it down in cash.' Kit Masters drew a long breath of relief. ' I knows the kid as wiU suit to a T,' he said, slappiog his thighs with his iiand. ' Do you really t Is it a l»iy T How old is it ? Has it blue eyes and a !air skin ? ' 'It's hevery think as you could desire, mum, and 'ealthy as can be — screams like a two-year-old ; I oughc to know for it lives dose anigh my 'oase.' ' \nd do you think the parents can be per- suaded to part with it t It must be for ever, remember I ' ' I knows the father, and I fancy 'ell listen to reason fast ena£ But if I brings you the child, mum — say to«morrer artemoon, to this ere place — will you guarantee to have the shiners with you, and make a fair ex- change f ' ' Ce rtainly I will ! I shall not expect to have the child unless 1 do ! But — but— will it ma ke a great noise, do yon think 1 WiU it be much noticed as i carry it through the street ? ' Kit Masters laughed hoarsely. ' I'll take care it shan't trouble you, mam. It shall have a drop of summat to quiet it afore it comes 'ere.' ' Oh I mine you don't hurt it I' ' 14 ever you fear 1 The youngster as I've got my heyes on won't kick for a drop of gin, 1 11 warrant that I But I'd better oring it arter dusk. What do you say, mum, to eight o'clock sharp to morrow evening in this worry place ?* ' I will be sure to be here,' replied Selina, who, now that she had really accomplished her purpose, felt very nervous about the issue. ' Twenty-five of them shiners is for me, Kit,' observed Joe Mason confidentially, as the two men shuffled out of her pre- sence. ' Well, I s'pose they must be as that was our bargain ; though it's a deal too much for your share of the job.' ' You'd never 'ave 'card of it if it 'adn't been for me,' observed Mr. Mason, aggrieved- ' True for you, old feller,and yoa managed the other business neat enuff, and so we'll say no more about this one. A hundred pounds 1 Fancy that 1 Blest iC I ever thougbt a family was sich a paying consam before I' Selina ttilegraphed at once to her friend Mrs. GtouerAl Chasemore, who was larking about I nextafi ed parJ to accc Court. •rill room 01 less we ofus. j you hav with yoi infant oi bundle i if yoa ji 'And it off m) 'Comi own, reE them, j I have fa of a dau; I return the poor have nai grandohi my story •Andi 'Yesl fuestiona M I hai specially any one J at once Regiua a wait my i •Andt 'Then dear, but smuggle ( the ion be ' But h< •Ohl t me! untij may yell the iun ai a ad come very ill t them. Tl that she 1 medioalai to nurse ready and dear. Th missing, a formed th« that I am i premature! 'SnaUy • Only fo •n to the f rooure a n atory we ii THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. i«r ,( iifn on MtyM ed over ( relief. ft T.' he d. ow old int' desire, IS Ukea it lives nbeper- forever, illlisteu Dgs you Tkoon, to to have » fair ex- expect to but— will kl WiU rough the on, mum. M quiet it terasl've rop of gin, bring it mum, to ing in this ed Selina, omplished about the is for me, tdeutially, her pre- ithat was I much tor it 'adn't laggrieved- maoaged Id ao we'll hundred lit I ever ig oonsam Iher friend lurking about Dover, to oome up to Londoii,and the next afternoon thev met in the now-desert- ed park. But airs. Chasemore refused to accompany the. younger lady to Bull Court. ' I'll meet yon in the Oharing Cross waiting- room or anywhere you like,my dear, bnt the less we are seen together the better for both of us. Now 1 don't be nervous, Selina. All you have to do it to carry a goodsixed shawl with you, and wrap the child well in it. An infant of a few days old makes a very small bundle after all, and no one will notice you if you just walk quietly through the street. ' ' And as soon as I reach you, you will take it off my hands?' ' Completely 1 I have had babies of my own, remember, and know how to manage them. I have already told my landlady that 1 have been called away to the lying-in bed of a daughter who is in extreme peril. When I return with an infant in my arms and say the poor mother's dead, she 11 only think I have naturally taken charge of my own grandchild. Trust me, my dear, for making my story good.' ' And shall you leave England to-morrow V ' Yes 1 by the first boat. If any one questions me I shall maintain the same story as I have told the landlady ; bnt unless specially unlucky I am not likely to meet any one I know. From Calais I shall travel at once to Normandy, where I have left Regiua at a very out-of-the-way place to wait my return.' 'And then!' ' Then comes the most di£Scult part, my dear, but I have no fear of failure. I shall smuggle the infant amongst my wraps iuta the inn bedroom, and there keep it quiet ' 'But how?' ' Oh ] there are ways and means, trust me ! until the middle of the night, when it may yell if it likes. The rough people of the inn are not likely to wake. If they do and come to the door, I shall say madam is very ill and I cannot leave her to admit them. The next morning I shall anDouuce that she has had a child. If they propose medical aid or assistance, I shall say I intend to nurse her myself. I have everything ready and prepared to deceive them, my dear. There is not a link in the chain missing, and they have been already in- formed that such an event is expected, and that I am in great fear lest it should happen prematurely.' ' Shall you stay there long ?' * Only for a fortnight or ao, and then move •n to the South of France where we can f rooure a nurse for the infant and tell what story we like. I have gone over the business a«(ain and %gaio, and cannot see any chance of failure. The most important thing is lo keep Lady William in ignorance of the events till the infant is some weeks old, and I have arranged for that also.' ' How will yon manage it ? She will be so awfully offended if she does not get the very first intelligence.' ' I shall wr ' ) after a few weeks and give her all the derails, and say that Begin* was wandering for the first fortnight and quite unable to tell me her mother's address, and my head was so completely addled with fear and anxiety that I couldn't think of any plan by which to procure it. At the same time we shall have the infant baptised and the birth announced in all the papers, so that the news may reach Mr. Vivian, for his wife has no idea of his address.' ' Papa may have I He is Mr. Chasemore's solicitor, you know, but I have not heard him mention it.' ' Well, former roae to his feet and openwl a bundle which he carried in hie arms. Misa Farthingale was no judge of new-born babies, but as she examined the little creature breathing peane- fully beneath the flaring ganlight she could not help seeing that it was a healthy-looking pinky thing, with two red fista doubled up in its mouth and a head covered with a species of fluffy tow. ' Theer 'e is, mum, as fine a babby as you'd see on a summer's day, honly four days' hle, lying in |»arently not her usual Mrs. Bull gettin' up « tine happetite now, Bonnie, and'ow do you think that theer boy's a.goin' to thrive if you don't relish jova vitteb. Come now,let me raise yon a bii, and jest you eat your bread and butter and drink your tea. I oan't leave you for the night till you've taken nourish- menta' ' But I'm so sleepy,' replied Bonnie with half dosed, heavy Uded eyes, but a smile of eontenlment passed over her face while that seemed to say she ' cared for nothing but to lie here and be happy. 'I don't know bow it is, but I feel as if I coulA't raise my head for ever so. And baby seems almost as bad.' ' What have you bin a bavin' since I was here, then?' demanded her friend suspici- ously. ' Nothin' but a drink of milk. Kit came home about an hour ago loI gave it to me. And a drop of the medicine the doctor left for me. He said I'd better take it-' 'Then I wish as Kit would beamindin' of 'is own business, for theer was no call for you to take more of that stuff, and if physio ain't wanted it's worse than none. Don't you be persuaded to drink any more on it. I'll tell you if it's necessary.' No, I won't drink any more,' said Bonnie in a drowsy tone. ' 'Ow's the youngster gettin' on !' The girl roused herMlf a little at this question. * Oh, beautiful ! Just see how his hairs' a-growing — quite yeiler like mine I And I've found sich a funny little thing on his ear 1 Look, now I Jest like a pea, ain't it ?' and she turned the child round, and showed the mark, as she spoke. ' So it be,' acquiesced Mrs. Ball. ' That's ourus, too,for I mind Mrs. Martin's youngest but one havin' jist sich another, ooly her'n was red colour, and this is white. That's what we call a "pig ear" down our part of the country, Bonnie. 'E'U be a glutton, that boy of youin, as sure as 'e lives.' * He's a little glutton already,' said the proud young mother, as she folded him to her breast ' But it's more than I feels to- night, Mrs. BulL I couldn't touch that tea for ever so. It quite makes me sick to look •tit.' * Well, I'm disappointed, that's what I ami and you gettin' on so nicely, too I I think we must give you a little more hair to-morrer, Bonnie. This room's unkimmon close, and has a queer physicky smell about it. I can't stay with you longer now 'cause Bull's wait* ing for his tea ; but Masters will be in afore long, and if you can relish summat sfore you goes to sleep for the night, 'e must get it for you.' ' All right! 1 ' said|BoBnie inarticulately, as her friend rose to leave the room. ' Well, they're main sleepy, the pair on 'em,' thought Mrs. Bull as she returned to her lord and master. * However, 'tis as good as food for 'em any day.' She heard no more ot Bonnie or her goingvon that evenins, and concluded all was right with her little neighbonr. But aa she and Bull, after a hard day's work of sell- ing and buying and oleanins up, were about to retire to their well-earnea reitt, they were startled by hearing a long pieroing soreims proceed from a house close by. Drunken cries and brawls were very common, as haa been said before, in that dirty little street : but there was something in the tone of this that arrested Mrs. Bull's hand on its way with a hair-brush to the back of her head. ' Bull I ' she exclaimed, ' whatever is that? ' ' Dunno, I'm sure, Hann. Public 'onse bein' turned out, ma> be.' ' No, that ain't a drinkin' voice — its fear. Throw me over my eownd agen. Bull, for, aa sure as my name's Hann, that scream came from Bonnie.' ' From Master's gal T Don't you be fool- ish now 1 You're never-a-goin' out agen at this time o' night 7 ' ' * But I ham. Theer's summat wrong over theer, I'm sure on it : and 1 can't rest till I go and see. Come with me. Bull, for the love of God I ' The woman was so excited that her husband caught the infection of her fear, and rad across the street with her to Kit Master's house. But the first person they encountered was that gentleman himself, standing serene- ly on the threehold of his domain. ' Whatever is the matter with Bonnie, Masters T ' exclaimed Mrs. Bull, breathless- ly. ' I 'eerd her voice right over to our 'ouse. What have you bin a-doiu' to 'er ? ' * I ain't done done nothin',' returned the man sullenly ; ' but she's took no with one of 'er lits of bolten' and gone down the street like a madwoman.' ' Gone down the street ! ' cried Mrs. Bull, ' and at this time o' night I Mercy on us ! What had she on ! ' ' Preciuus little, I fancy, except a cloak. She flew one of the 'ouse afore I could catch !Tt 'er.' :E ! * She must be out of 'er mind haltogether. And to leave the poor babe, too I Where is it?- 'Oh, that ain't heer.' ' Ain't heer ! The baby gone ? Why, who's took it? Masters, you've 'ad a 'and in all this, I can see, and you'd better make 110 THE ROOT OF ALL BYIL. ' And ain't you tk-aoinfi;' ' Wheer's the cood ! I si a olaan breMtof it, if yoa don't wants to have the perhoe set arter yon. ' 'The perlice! What are you allays stnffin' the perlioe down my throat for? Can't a man do what 'e likes with 'is own ? If you wants to know the truth, here ic is. I oan't stand the noise and the bother of a brat a-saaealing in my ears night and day, and so iVe pat the youngster out to uuss ; and Bonnie she ohoose to take on about it and oheek me, and then she bolted down the street afore I could stop 'er.' ' Aad ri^t, too, if you've robbed 'er of 'er baby. What call 'ad ^ou to take a four- days' old oreeture out of its mothet's breast to turn it over to strangers ? Ugh 1 you un- nateral beast ! And maybe you've killed 'em both, for it's my belief Bonnie will never get over sich a trubble. ' ' Cau't 'elp it, if she don't. She's gone a nice way to kill 'erself now ; but she allays was a fool ' arter 'er ? good ! 1 suppose when she's tired of ruanin' she'll come ome agen.' ' If she ain't brought 'ome ou a stretcher — thouch much you'd keer if she was ! Where's the child now ?' ' Ah, don't you Mrish I may tell yer ! so that she might go a-botherin' arter it every day, iustead of attendin' to 'er doolies. It's ■ara enough, and it's well look keer ou ; and that's all she'll know of it until I ciioose to teU 'er.' ' And you a-goin' to leave that pour gal outtiu' about the streets all night with her 'ead a-fire, while you sits at 'ome, I s'pose. Gome ou, Bull ! it makes me sick to look at 'ini. We've 'ad our quarrels, but you've never biu as bad as that, old man. That poor sick creeture'U die now, na sure as sure ; and all I 'opes is that her death may be brought 'ome murder to that man's door !' Bus Mrs. Bull's wish was never gratified. Nor did the inhabitants of the little street iu Drury Laue ever set eyes on poor shiftless Bonnie a^^ain. From the night on which she awoke, half stupefied with the opiate her husband had administered to her, to find that he hud rubbed iier of h^r child, Kit Masters never was troubled with the sight of bis poor wife. A few inqmries were set on foot by the aeigLbours, but they brought forth uo fruit ; and the general opiuion amongst the women was thati Masters iiad made away with both Bunuie and ber baby, aud buried their bodies beneath his floor. Consequently he was very t generally shunned, although his behaviour lad little effect upuu him beside making him . let hi& shop, and ^o aud live with his father aud mother at Richmond. And for a luug fviiilu faithful Mrs. Bull would watch and wait for the reappearance of the girl sh« had loved to succour : but Bonnie's violet ^ea and sweet, dreamy face were never seen in the little street iu Drury Lane again. CHA.P££R IV. ' AUtO NOW WHIBB IB MT. BOY ? ' When Vivian Chasemore made up his mind so suddenly to aMompany his fnend Lord Charlesford to Norway, he left an address, to which to forward bis letters, with his solioi^ tor. Not that he had any notion that his wife would write to him, or an^ wish to hear from him. The cruel words which she had spoken relative to having married him for his money had sunk so deep into his heart, that he be- lieved no after-conduct on her pare could ever have the power to erase them. Any truce that might take place between them here- after must be a false and hollow peace, main- tained for the benefit of society, and which could bring no comfort to hia wounded spirit. So he felt little anxiety to communicate with her, aud only longed to put the greatest distance possible between himself and home, and to try aud forget all that was going on there. Lord Charlesford preferred yachting along the coasisof Finland and Norway, and living (when he di. go ashore) amongst the peasantry of the country ; and Vivian was quite ready to second his friend's wishu an£ avoid the paths of civilisation altogether. Consequeotly, after the first visit paid to the post-town where he had ordered his letters and papers to be sent, he did not see it again, bi^t followed his friend's fortunes wheresoever the bonnie yacht * Thisbe ' took thnm, aud lived for several months of summer weather a pleasant sort of gipsy life, half aboard and iialf ashore, diversiiying his taste of salt water with inland fishing and shooting, and with studying the manners and customs of a much unknown and very interesting people. Everard Selwyn was perfectly happy, or he would nave been so, had he not guessed that Vivian Chasemore was suffering mental tortures even while he laughed and talked as loudly as hia fellows, and scorned the notion of fatigue ur ennui . Lord Charlesford was a generous, upi-n-hearted young nobleman, with plenty of Euglish pluck and energy, and plenty of money to oack it ; so that had it mot been for the worm of disappointment gaawingaeoretly at poor Vivian's heart, there could hardly have been found a merrier or more united trio of voyagers in the wide world. TSB Root Of ALL EYIL. Ill pearanoe ir ; bat tmy face in Drury yV ihismiud end Lord ddreM, to bii solioi^ it his wife hear from m1 spoken bia money lat he be- oould ever :\.Dy truce hem here- laoe, main* knd which ided spirit, licate with le greatest And home, » going on liting along and living lougst the 'ivian was wishes ani sdtogeiher. id to the [his letters not see it fortunes lisbe ' took of summer life, half ig his taste shooting, id customs iteresting bappy, or at guessed ling mental talked as I the notion If ord was a Bmau,with |ergy, and »t had it bpointment Leart, there 1 merrier or the wide Dr. Morton's croaking prophooiesof the dilapidated condition of Vivian a lungs proved utterly fallacious. They had endured a severe attack of inflammatioa,aad been rather tender for a few weeks afterwards ; but the young man was strong and vigorous, with a good hardy British constitution, and could have stood the assault of many more such attacks with impunity. The unworthy fear of future penury which had induced Begina to carry out her wicked plot for deceiving her husband and defrauding Sir Arthur of his rights, had no cause for springing from Vivian's present atate of health, for he be- came stronger than he had ever been in the bracing air of If arway and from the effects of his sea voyage. He grew so Drown and healthy-louking that Selwyn was almost tempted sometimes to believe that tne agonized expressions of despair, which he had been called upon to listen to durins his friend's illness, had been the offspring of a fevered imagination, rather than the utterances of conviction. But now and again the knitted brow,clo8ed teeth, and look of pain that would pass over Vi^an's oouateoance, even in their gayest moments, told him that the spirit still suffered, what- ever the body was determined to conceal. Things had being going on in this manner for about six montui, when the fast-increasing oold.of autumn warned Lord Charlesford that the season for yachting was over, and they had better fix upon some resting-place fur the winter months. He had two plans in his head. Should they lay up the 'Thisbe' for the winter months in harbour at Norway, and spend their time between Christiana and Stockhold ; or run south to Paris aud Berlin ^r should they return to England at once and make another voyage out with the next spring ? Vivian voted for remaining where they were. What was the ((ood of ^igland, he averred, in the winter season, when the country was a mixture of mud and snow, and London completely empty ? If the Nor- wegian and Swedish capitals n^id not afford them sufficient amusement, they could easily, as Charlesford had suggested, run over to Paris for awhile and return when they had had enough of it. But wlu^tever they did let them remain out of England. He urged Selwyn to back his choice. But thn young actor was hU guest and did nut choose to take advantage of the fact. He remained neutral and Vivian had to do a double share; of ar- gument on his own account. Lord Charlesford was quite willing to ac- cede to his request (though he did remark that his old mother would be very much cut up if he missed spending Christmas at home) so it was finally arranged that their hrst halting place should be Christiana, where* upon the head of the * Tliisbe ' was turned in that direotion, and within a few days they found themselves there. This was the post town to which the young men had directed their letters and papers to be sent, and there was quite an assortment of news brought them to their hotel the same evening. Vivian toMcd over his letters carelessly. They all seemed more or less official : at all events the one handwriting that held any interest for him was not amongst them. Not that he had expected to see it. B«gina's pride, he felt convinced, would never permit her to make the ' amende honorable ' to hira, and even were she to do so, what would be the use of it ? No contrition for tiie past nor Eromises for the future could undo what she ad done, which was to reveal her it ue heart co him. He cast the letters to one side in a heap aud took up the ' Times ' instea'i, beginning with the last news sent outinsteadof uie first. What made him cast his eye over the list of births he never knew. It \/m not his habit, any more than that of other n?en to feel any interest in the ' Ladies' column,' but as ue folded the sheet his own name in capitals caught his sight and arrested his attention . It is wonderful how soon we can pick out a name familiar to us from amongst doaens of strangers, and his was an uncommon one*^ At first he wondered who could bear the same cognomen ; then, as he graph more attentively, to his astonishment that it self, and no one else, who therein. 'On the second of September, at the Hotel Vache, Pays-la-reine, Normandy, the wife of Vivian Chasemore, Esq., of 3 Premier Sireet, Portland Place, of a son, pre- maturely. ' * Good Ood I ' exclaimed Vivian aloud, as the foregoing announcement made it- self apparent to his senses ; ' it must be a heax. 'What's a hoax, old fellow,' said Lord Charlesford ; ' nothing wrong, I hope I ' ' No ! I suppime not ! but there's some* thiug here about — about my wife I ' ' Your wife I ' echoed his friends simultaneously, Knowiag Mrs. Vivian ChasKiiiure as they thought they did, and that the married couple were not on the most affectionate terms, both their minds had at once leapt to the fear of a scandaL ' What is it, Vivian ! Do speak, said Selwyn auxioasly. 'She's not dead, is she T What are you staring at that co- lumn for ? read the para- he perceived was really hiui- was mentioned I,! i' IP SBSbMMHP- ' 112 THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. ' Oh ! no 1 it's nothing to mako a foM •boat — bat — bat iho'i sot a baby I ' * Hft ! hft 1 ha I' roared Lord Cbarleiford, ' ii that all T and didn't yoa ezpoot it, old boy t What a lark I Thii oomea of married iqen running off on yaohtios expediti ina and leaving no addreaa behind them. I hope ic'a the right lort, eh ? Yei I— a ion— at lea«t the paper sayi so. I aay, Selwyu, thia aeeme very queer to me. ' < 1 daresay it does, old boy, bat we've been knocking about so long, ynn know ; there was no means of getting at the Utfws before 1 Look at your letters, Vivian 1 There is sure to be oomething about it tkere.' Vivian turned quickly to his pile of eorrespondence, and examined it until he came to an envelope in a feminine hand- writing with a foreign post- mark. He frowned as he caught sight of it. ' Surely I have seen that hand before,' he thought. And the contents confirmed his suspicion. ' Hyeres, September 30th. •Mt dbar Vivian, ' I appose, after the last interview we had together, that you will not be very much pleased to hear from me, but as there is no one else to write to you, and it is im- portant you should learn what has taken place, I am compelled to ruu the risk of in- curring your displeasure. I happened to be staying at an out-of-the-way little town in Normandy, about three weeku ago, called Pays-la-reine, when the woman of the hotel requested my assistance for a lady who had been taken suddenly ill in the night. Fancy my astonishment when I found it was poor dear Begina ! She had wandered over to Pays-ls'i'sine in search of solitude with a lady friend, a Mrs. Brownloiv,who had been obhged to leave her the same day, and the disappointment, I suppose, upset her. How- ever, all went well, and she is the mother of a tine little boy. I am sorry to tell you, however, that Kegina was too feverish and light-headed afterwards that we were obliged to keep her very quiet, as we could procure no medical assistance. Indeed it was most fortunate I was there (notwithstanding yonr unkind prohibition, my dear Vivian), or I do not think your poor wife would have got over it. I nursed her carefully, and as soon as she was able to be moved, we came on to Hyeres. I have written to Lady William to come to her daughter (as, after what you said. I do not suppose you would wish me to rumain with her longer than is necessary), and when she does so I shall reaign my cki . ge. Regina begs m« to tell you th*t the little boy has blae eyes and fair hair, and that she has had him baptised by the namrs of " Vivian Peregrine," as she believed they wonld have been yuar choice. As soon as her mother arrives *he intends to return to Premier Street for the winter. She sends yon her love, and will write as soon as she feels equal to the exertion. Relieve me, my dear Vivian, to be your much maligned step- mother, ' CUABLOTn CHAaiMORl.' Under other oiroumstanoes, to hear that Mrs. General Cbasemore was actually living in the same house as his wife, would hava driven Vivian nearly wild, but he did not knew what to say to this letter. It was impossible to upbraid or^even not to think of the woman who had befriended Regina at such a moment, and when he reflected that she might have died without her assistance, he felt almost grateful to her. And yet how ardently he wished that any one but Mrs. OeneriU Chasemore had been in the Hotel Vache at that juncture. However, this little annoyance »as soon swallowed up in the joy and surprise that followed his perusal of her letter. He had a soa at last : an heir to inherit his gramifathoi's property. The news had coma so unexpectedly upon him that for a while it seemed impossible to realise ; but as scon as he had had time to take it in, his delight knew no bounds. He talked uo more of wintering in Stockholm or even Paris, he averred his intention of re- turning home at once. He did not wish to spoil his friends' pleasure, he said. Let them continue their route as first planned ; but for his own part they must see that it was absolutely necessary he should return to Eugland. His quvriel with Rfgina seemed forgutten . If he remembered it with a sudden sigh, the sad recollection was dispersed as quickly as it ro8e by the thought of little lips ready to welcome him that would never toll him they loved him only for his money. To the young and inexperienced father or mother it seems impossible that the infant they watch grow up beside them can ever turn round with words of ingratitude and rebellion to sting the heart that has given up all for their sakes. These little lips must love caresses ; these little tongues must speak the truth ; these little eyes can never bear any expres- siun but that of affection and obedience. We believe our children to be too much our own. We forget that we are but the instruments of bringing into the world and nurturing a set of spirits that may prove to be utterly op* posed to our own in strength of will and THB BOOT or ALL ETIL 1I« hilt the At, Mid t nmmn )d they •OOD M itam to 16 MDdt i M the in«, my leditap- aoBa' ear that ly living old bftve did not It WM think of egiDA At Bted thftt iiiatance, yet how 9ut Mn. ihe Hotel this little D the joy lal of her D heir to ^ly upon ssaible to i time to ads. He kholm or on of re- i wish to Let them ; but for it it WM etum to [a seemed sudden ^jrsed M little lipe lever tell |uey. To or mother ley watch n round illion to for their saresses ; |e truth ; expres- ince. We lour own. iDients of iog a set lerly op- Iwili and parpnue. Whilst they are infants and th« «bil^i^h apirits are subeerYitrnt, we fancy wo «an mnaUl them to what we with ; but, alas I the baby too often ontatrips our own in growth, and what we believed to be a docile son or daughte", we Hud anddenly trans« formed into a rebelliona man or woman. Of onnrse neither Charleaford nor Selwyn opposed the wishes of their friend. The former, still hankering after the old mother, who would be so disappointed if she didn't tee his bonnie face smiling at her across the Chriscmss table, avowed his intention of re- turning home in the ' Thisb«' and so the three men set sail together, and after rather a rough paKsase, reached Southampton in the month of November. Vivian would not stop for even a night on his way, but, bidding farewell to his friends, pt-oceeded without . deUy to Prpmier Street, « i.ere, an he rigidly ju'Uel, he should ftad Regius. Mrs. Vivian Chasemore, after remainiug some weeks at Hyerea. had taken the advice of her hui* band's stepmother, and returned in state to London, where the French bonne, who had accompanied them home, was dismissed, and an important-looking English nurse, at forty pountis a year,in8talled in the oiJSoe of chief Saanlian to the young heir. Lady William rettltiship had not joined her daughter as Mrs. General Chasemore had requested her to do. She was ruffled in the first place at Regioa having presumed, after all her own EroKHOstications to the contrary, to have a aby ; and indignant, in the second, that the event should have occurred with so little ceremony, and under the superintendeno<) of 'that creatixre, the general's widow.' If the dowager Mrs. Chasemore had nursed Regina so judiciously hitherto, let her continue to do so. Lady William had no desire to share the honour with a woman of whose ante- cedents the world knew nothing ; and as for her grandson, she doubted if he would be any the worse for keeping. Then she con- fided to her oamarade,Mrs.Runnymede,who was quite ready to j'tiu in the abuse of a fellow- Tea ture whose chief crime in the eyes of society was precisely the same as her own. Lady William had called on Regina in Premier Street as soon as she heard that she was alone, and been introduced to the new addition to the family, magmticent in his robes of cambric and Valenciennes lace ; but she had not repeated her visit, and Mrs. Vivian Chasemore wm beeinning to think it was rather dull work, staying at home and E laying at 'mamma,' and wished that she ad followed her own idea and gone to Nice or Mentnne asain' for the winter. But the good sense rT the advice which had been offered her, showed itself when her lady's- 8 maid rushed into bor dressing-room «■• morning to inform her that tho master kad just arrived from Southampton, and waa coming upstair*. How her heart beat aa abo heard it I She irivd to oomposo herself and appear oalm as she lay on tha sofa in bar soft clinging robes of white merino, with » Bde blue ribbon twined in her golden bair. at Vivian gave her little time rorconaid«r*> tion. He ran straight to ber dressing-room, and fell on his knees beside her onuch. AU the bitter past seemed wiped out for eT«r, aa be realised that be had found ber again, and she waa the mother of bis child. ' My darling I' he murmured,as be sbowor> ed kisses upon ber face, now flushed with excitement end fear. * Can you forgive me ? Oh, Regina I when I think that I m^btbavo lost you during my absence, I cannot tell yoa how I resret my hssty conduct. But it waa all from love of yon, my dearest. It was tbo awful thought that yon did not osre for mo that drove me wild. But it is not true,is it, Regina T You rto love me a little nmorrow, andaee what he aaya about it.' ' Oh, pray don't I ' ahe exclaimed, harried* ly. ' I hate that man, and have not the uighteat need of him. I ahall get quite atrong now yoa have come home.' ' BUaa you ior aaying that dear I ' he anawered just aa the nurse entered the room with lier charge, and ourtaied low to her new master. * Is thia tho young gentleman, nurse ? ' ' Yes, air I and I hope now yeu've come back, sir, that his poor mamma won't fret as much aa ahe's be«a-a-doin', for they're neither of them as thriving as I rhould like to aee 'em.' Vivian took the infant in hia arma, and carried it to the light. ' What a queer little mortal I ' he remark* ed as he uncovered its face. ' He is not very fat, is he?' He was not ; for the poor little baby that Ki*: Masters had delivered over to the care of Miss Selina Farthingale, had not thriven very well on its nhange of nurses. Doses of gin and onium, hurried journeys by night, and a audden transfer froic its mother's breast to a feeding bottle, Liad changed the carrent of life in the hapeless infant's oooati- tion, and given it what its nurse termed *a check.' Consequently it had progressed but slowly, and at ten weeks old was much ilerand older looking than it should have ' It ia not wbat you may call a plump baby, sir,' replied the nurse. 'You aee his mamma not being able to nurse him, and his beia«< brought up by hand is a great draw- back. But we hope to see him till out by- and-by and do credit to his bottle.' Vivian bent down down and kissed the little puny face earnestly. Would this joyous new hope which had scarcely had time to settle itself into a certainty, prove a a disappointment af tor all ? 'He's not a bit like me, Kegina, that's certain,' he said, after a pause. 'His eyes are very blue — quito a violet blue — and his hair is yellow uke yours. And as for hia noaa, my dear t— I don't know who he's got that from. I'm afraid it's a decided puu- ' Babies' none* altar so much, don't they, narse T' aaid Regina, languidly. ' Oh, vea, ma'am ; of course thoy do. Meat babiaa have the same sort of nose when they're ao little. I dare say our young gen* tieman'a there, will tarn oat juat like hia papa'a by -and -by.' She received back the bundle of flannel and long olothea as ahe apoke. ' Come, my beauty I haa it aeen it'a own papa, then T It'll pick up twice aa faat now you've come, air. I've always aaid the dear child was a-pining for the aight of you. And he isn't the only one that has pined either,' rem»rked the nur«e, with the familiarity of her olaas, aa she backed out of the room. ' Regina, my darling 1 ia it true ? Have you been pining for your husband till even the servants have remarked itT' exulaimed Vivian, as the door dosed and he took hia wife in his arms. ||Uer heart waa beating so violently, and ahe was so over-excited that she had no answer to give him except that which waa conveyed by a burst of tears. But it waa enough for Vivian. He interpreted it ac- cording to his own desire, and resolved that it should wipe off henceforth and for ever the memory of all that had distressed him in the pa»t. There was cue matter ou which he wished to speak to his wife — the very one which parted them ; but he resolved that it should not be yet^ but that he would give her time to settle down into the old lite aKain before he broached any subject that was likely to create a difference between them. 'And sc you have called him "Vivian Peregrine,'' he said, alluding to the baby. ' I like your choice, darling, because it proves you were th.ukingof me ; but I should have preferred him to have my father's name of Edward instead of mine. Hov/ever, that will do for number two,' he added, laughing. Regina did not laugh, as most mothers would have done at this very natural joke. She only smiled in a sickly manner, and turned a shade paler. ' How does your mother take it ? Is she not very proud of her grandson ? ' continued Vivian. ' I don't think so. She has only been here once since my return, and then she took very little notice of him. She is quite absorbed in that woman, Mrs. Runny mede, and seems to care nothing for her own flesh and blood. ' ' Never miud, dear ! We will love the little ehap enough for his family put togeth- er, will wb not ? Our own child I I can hardly believe it, even now that I have seen him. I had almost resigned myself to the THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL 115 sive te axain lat was lem. Vivian baby. proves Id have name of that ,ughiDg. lothers 1 joke, er, and Is she intinued 3en here )ok very ,bsorbed id see ma blood.' bve th» ; togeth- || I can ive seen to the bdiaf fthttt it woold never be t Oh, Regink I my dear, dear wife, you have made me ao ex* Juisitely happy. With your love, and that ear little one, I feel at if I should never know what it is to feel miserable in this world again ar;|j|)6 for uie shower of gold. I allude to Mus Janet Oppenheim. But she has been by u<> means forsotten, althoush the uneventful Sears she has passed in the service of Miss Tetherwood at Clarence Lodge, had afforded no material as yet neoessary to tlie elimina- tion of this little plot. This fact was due almort entirely to tbe absence of Sir Arthur Chaaemure from England. Miss Oppenheim had no frionds, natural or otherwise. She was parentless, and the few connections remaining to her had made their home iu India ; she and an orphan grandaon being the only relatives remaining to Mrs. Mathers, and the boy had died at sea some time before her grandmother. Consequently Janet Oppenheim had been thrown completely on her own resources when she accepted a tem> p*>rary home with Mr. Farthingale and his daughter. She had been full of doubts and surmises with regard to the position in which her aunt had left her, but had gained no certain proofs to go upon, when the sudden manner in which she was thrust forth from the lawyer's house, and cast upon the tender mercies of Miss Netherwood, com- pletely confused her mind upon the subject. Was It possible, she theught, that if money were due to her, Mr. Farthingale would dare defraud her of her rights in so open a manner ? She was perfectly aware of the reason she had been sent away, and the knowledg^e would have been a feather in her oap, had it not been so soon followed by the intelligence of Sir Arthur Chaeemore's depar- ture from England. That was a real blow to her. She had just bugun to believe she had succeeded in awakening an interest in the baronet's mind, when he went away without even svying good-bye to her. She had intended to consult him on the subject of her own liffairs, and see if he could find out any- thing concerning them; and now she had positively no one to whom she could turn. xMiss I arthingale had taken care she should make no friends whilst staying with them (•zoept that one friend, for whoso tako ah* got so abrupt a dismissal), and so she felt that for the present, at all •▼•nts, th^n wm nothing to be done but to wait patiently, aad make her way as well as she oould at Clarence Lod||e. She had written a lettar to Mr. Farthingale's office, asking hummy for information respecting her late aunt's affairs, and she had received in answer a shuffling statement to the effect that th« lawyer was doing his utmost in her behalf, and that as soon as ever be had any satisfao* tory information to give her, she should hear from him. Miss Janet Oppenheim was wise in her generation. She saw she could do no good by moving in the matter without advice, and so she locked the lawyer's reply carefully away in her desk, and resolved to bu patient and bide her time. Meanwhile she had contrived, in her soft, feline way, to wiggle into the confidence of Miss Netherwood, and make herself neoessary to that lady's comfort. At the time we meet her again, she had been for three years at Clarence Lodge, and was the right hand of its mistress. From having commenced as a pupil-teacher, entrusted with only the youngest and most troublesome children in the school, she had risen to be Miss Nether- wood's housekeeper aui major domo — who did all the marketing, superintended the servants, and never entered the schoolroom except it was to carve the joints at the early dinners. Miss Netherwood, who was almost as much alone in the world as Janet herself, used to declare to her friends that she hardly knew how she had conducted the school before she had the asiiistance of dear Miss Oppenheim, and she believed she should resign it the very day she left her. Not that Miss Oppenheim was so unworldly wise as to let Miaa Netherwood suspect that snoh a day would ever come to pass. That would have strained the links of the chain that bound them together. The elder lady never contemplated such a misfortune as loring'Lsr young friend, although from her belief in her honesty, sobriety, purity, and all the othei cardinal virtues, she might have feared such a complete treasure would be snatched from her arms. But Miss Jauet never gave her cause for such a suspicion. Her conduct waa propriety itself, and Miss Netherwood did not believe that she ever thought of, far less designed, such an end as matrimony. The good lady had never caught sight of any of those foreign letters addressed to her protegee in a bold masculine hand, which coromenoed to arrive soon after Sir Arthur left home, and for which Janet used to call at the post-office during her daily rounds of «, )i » iiM4««'iuiimM i M W';»»^iii«»»K~ IK THE BOOT Of ILL EVIL. doty. Th« bAronat bad ruiibtd away from Bogland, diiguiuid, m b« b«ili«v«d. with all b« l«ft bwbioa him { bot after »« bila h« had f«lt rathar aoliury, aod thuaghta of the naltiug look aod lufc-purriug tuoaa of the girl, woo bad admioutered to hia ooiiaola> tioa bv tlHttenog hi* vanity in Mia« Farth- iDgtlw'a drawing- room, crept back iuto bia miuU, and raiaod in it a lieaire to communi- oate with ber. A uot« whioh ahe bad Mnt to tall him of bar abrupt ttend a dinnerparty or a ball, might often be seen down some selected spot Wood for hours, waiting until the require- ments of Miss Nether wood permitted Janet Oppenheim to leave the house and join him. Not that he waa enamoured of her even Jet,or,at least,adinitted the fact to himself, [e believed he had made up his miud never to,marry,and only regarded the little teacher in the light of a dear^ friend and confident. And Jauet, clever aa deep, played her carda into bib hand, believing that * all tbinsa come to him who knowa how to wait.' You may be sure that every detail of the Vivian Chaaemorea' marrietl life, so far aa they were known to the public, were dia> cussed at length between these two; and that Begina'a eolcUieaa and Viviau'e illLeaa and pacing up and in St. Jubn'a departoro to Norway, and tha «D«ipc«lad advent of the heir, were all aeirwaUy talk«d about and «toB)m*nted open. * Yoo bear it ao well,' said Jaacl, patk«li« ually, «licuing to the birth of the baby, •• they witlked together one evening when aha waa supposed to be at church. ' I gmuioI think bow yim can speak so qaiatly about it. But tben,yoa alwaya w«r« ao gaaeroaa with regard to those people.' ^ Well,it'B not their fanli yoo aee,' rapliwl Sir Ar. bur, with a comical air, * and only what waa to be expected after all.' ' Not a bit of it t No ona had the ImmI idea of such a thing. And they were ao voiy dose about it, too. I have heard throogh a friend of Misa Netherwood, who knowa thai wretch, Selina Farthingale, that even Mm Cbaaemore'n mother had hardly a biut given her of such an event, until it had actually ocoorred.' ' Yea I that waa queer, wasn't it. And Vivian himself told me that when he read the birth in the '/ Timea " he thought it must be a hoax.' ' What an extraordinary idea i One would have thought alter all her diaappointmeni and consideiiog how much depended on it| that she would have been too proud to ro*ka such a mystery of the affair. Where waa this important baby born V ' I really don't know. At some ont*of the* way place in Normandy, I believe. No one seems to be rare. Even Vivian ia misty on the subject.' * Stranger still I Who waa with her at the time V ' I never asked, my dear. She left Eng- land very suddenly, and came back in tha same way — plus the son and heir. It waa altogether very funny, but it'a no biuineaa of mine.' ' I think it is your busineaa, Sir Arthnr. Does it not strike you aa very nnnaaal, that a youLg mother about to lay-in of her first child shuuld run away from ber own home and friends ti> be cou lined in some remote district abroad, without the attendance of a medicnl man or a nurse.' ' Oh, I believe old Mrs. Ohaaemore (tha general'a widow, you know) waa atayingwitil er atHhe time, and Vivian waa very mnch annoyed that it should have been so.' ' Mrs. Qeneral Chaseraore I She aeenu to be a nice character for a re' treace, if all you have told me concerning her ia troe.' 'Yon are very mysteriona thia evenings my dear Janet. Wnat are you driving atr ' Never mind. If I told you, yoo wmuA THI ROOT or ALL EVIL. 117 thnr. that fint leMid Utriot ledioal (th« jwitk Imaoh ker u «•!! MM • fooL Bat I om p«t tiro Mid two lofotbor M woU M aoypno.' ~ I lioov voa o«a t Th*l ii why I WMt to kaow your fittlo gomo.' *8ir vrtharl hMitoovor itraok 700 that that ohiH may not holoag to Mr*. VirUn OhM«m'>r« At all Y *Ouodh«aT«Ml Mot WhoM ihoold it bar 'Oh,yoa mon I what ■tvpid gaoM yoa aro I It is aa aaay to gall you ai poMiblo. Why ihoald ft aot boloog to lomobody oImT *Why ihould it? Wh%t objact would lh«r« bo in pMsing off anothar paraoa'a oUild aa thair own f tfaoot Oppanhoim atoppod abort and atarod tho baronat in tha faoo. * Are yon quite blind,' aba aaid, ' or only pretending to be ao T Wb? , rbe'd do it for Ibe money, of oourae. I don't aay that he knowa anytbiag about it ' ' For the money f For an heir I I aee. Bat it ia not poaaible, Janet She ooulJ norer be ao fooliah. It would be found out at onoe. ' ' Is will be found out if it ia the oaae, for I am determined to reat neither aiifht nor day, till I know the truth. For your aake 1' ahe added, with a gentle aqueoze of the baronet'a 3ir Arthur oould not recover the ahook of ^e anapioion ahe had preaented to him. * Not her child 1' ho kept on repeating. 'Whatever put ouch an idea into your hand, Janet?' * Everything I Jnat put the facta tosether tor your own conaideratioa, and see hnw aua> eeioua they look. Your cousin left EagUud May, aud the baby was bora in September. Why had he no idea of hia wife's ooLditioo when he parted with her ? Then ahe ieavt-a her home, atill without a word to her mother or any one, and without writing to tell her hnaband. Sbe remains abroad no one is sure where, with that disreputable old woman, Mra. Ohasemore, and then it is audtienly announced that ahe had had a baby, and she fetnrns to Premier Street, in pom(>, with an infant and nurae in her train. It ia all too unnatural not to excite inquiry.' ' Why ahoold it not be her own child ?' repeated Sir Arthur. ' Why ahould it be !' retorted J«net Oppeu" keim. * She had every dpi) ircaiii'y to pilm off the child of some one eUe, aa I evory in- duosmiat to rnxka her d<) so. Basiles —— ' 'Besides —wh«t ? Dm't keep anything back from me, J^aet. I am sure you have tome other foundation for thiukiug aa yoa do beyond the meroanapioioaaeironmataoooayo* havo mentioned.' • Welt, I liidn't mean to Ull yoa Juat yol, aa I aaiii before, bat I don't know why yo« ahoaldn't hear it I have moio reason thaa yuu think, fur talking aa I do. What waa the name yon told me that Mr. Viviaa Chasemnre adnpt«d whilst 00 the alage t* • Alfred Waverley ' ' I thought aa much. Well, Sir Arthar, it'a vttry atrange, but we have a woman ia onr houae who knew him under that namo.' 'Really I Who U it?' 'A aervanti I'll tell yon how I camo across her. I have the eniiaging i>f all Mia* Netherwond'a aervaata, and laat month w* were in want of what we call a achoolroom> maid { that ia a peraon to wait on the y<^' office after otfioe, but could tind no on* likely to auit. At last the miatress of ono place told me that if I would take a girl who nad never lieen nut in aervice before, ahe had a very respectable young woman of the nam* of Helton, who wuuted a situation. I saw Beltnn, and found her to be a pretty girl, but looking vrry aad aud sickly. She waa ao !;entle and quite, however, that 1 touk a ancy to her ; and as I found ahe would com* for very small wages (Miss Netherwuod ia awfully atiugy, yuu kno^) I engaged h«r for the aituation, aud ahe entered our house th* following day.' ' >Vbat iaaa all thia got to do with yonng Chaaemoro ?' 'How impatient you are. Cannot yon truat to me to tell you ? I waa thruwn a good deal with thia girl in teaching her her duties, aud I soon t'uuud out there waa a mystery about her. She used to cry terribly at night I have b«>en kept awake fur hours liateuing to her aubbing and to the broken sentences ahe murmurml in her slet>p, and before long I taxed her with something ah* bail said, and under a solemn prumiae of aecrecy shn told me her history. ' ' Anything out of the way ? ' Ye8,a very sad one ; but I mustn't repeat the particulars. I cannot even tell you what I wish to, unless you will swear never to re* veal it until we are certain of its truth.' ' I swear I wi>l not. You may trust m* to not expose myself by fuUowing a wild guose ohaae. ' ' It seems this woman, Helton ( Belton she says is not her rcil uarae).s marrie*! aud ran away from her husband. Can you guea* why?' ' If ever could guess anything in my lif e^ Janet I' ' Beoanae her child was atolen fro a' her.' tl!i' I MMi^B'l imi m w WJfwo jM g t ' w t w L ' w ^ •lM^'^ ' mpmS^& |l^ *18 THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. * But who stole it V ' She lays her hnsbAnd did, th»t it wm taken from her aide whilst the was asleep, and when she found oat her loss vhe went ont of her mind and ran away from him. Bat the carioas part of the stury is that the child was a boy and born in the beginning of Septembei*, the very same date as the other. ' Pooh,pooh,nonsenBe ! my dear girl,* said the baronet , smiling; ' yon are never going to frame a romance on saoh a slender founda- tion «s that. Do you know how many children are bom on average every week in the year in London ? ' ' Yes, yes ; of course I do, a thousand of each sort. But that's onl^ the beginnine of my story. When I questioned Belton, why she suspected her husband of stealing her child from her, she said she believed he had sold it, because he would do anything for money, and that some time before be had betrayed her best friend for fifty pounds, and she had never seen him since. Of course this " best friend " excited my curiosity, and I tried hard to get his name out of the )P;irl, but nothing would make her reveal it. However, a few nights afterwards she was ■o unnsually restless and talkative in her sleep that I entered her room with the view of rousing her, and heard her exclaim " Where's Mr. Waverley, he would find my baby for me ? Oh ! where is Mr. Alfred Waverley T He would see that justice was done to me.'" ' Nonsense, Janet ! ' cried Sir Arthur, with real interest, 'she never said that.' ' She did, indeed I When I was next talking to her I asked : " Did you ever know Mr. Alfred Waverley, the actor ? " and ■he got crimson in a moment and denied the fact. I taxed her with what sue said in her sleep, but she stuck to it that she had only seen nim once or twice. Then I said, " Do' you think Mr. Waverley stole your child T" And she replied, "Ob, no, ma'am ! for he's a married grentleman himself and I daresay has plenty of children of his own. " So I think that if this woman's baby was stolen Jot that purpose that she had no cognizance of it.' ^God bless my soul, Janet ! And do you really imagine you can trace any link between your servant's loss and Regina Chasemore's baby ? ' ' I think this, Sir Arthur. 'That the man who received fifty pounds for finding your cousin, would be very likely to earn another fifty if he could by selling his own child. A man of his class would probably imagine he was doing the infant a great benefit by giving it the chance of being reared as » gentleman.' ' But who could have applied to him in the matter ? If I reniember nghtly, old Farthin* ale could never iind oat for certain, who id claim that reward.' ' I can't tell you more than I know, and Belton, although she is a very soft, stnpid sort of a woman, won't let oat a word more than she chooses. To all my questions she only returns the answer, " Please don't ask me, miss." I am convinced that nothing would have extracted the name of Alfn d Waverley from her, had she been awake, and I am sure she is unusually interested in him from her agitation when I mentioned his name, but where can snch a woman have known him T ' ' That mi^ht be easily accounted for Vivian associated with all sorts of low people whilst he pursued that disgraceful prof*)Ssion. But how came this woman's husband, who earned the fifty pounds reward, to be mixed up with this other affair? Surely old Farthingale can never have had a hand in it?' ' No I no ! no ! No man would ever meddle with such a dirty plot I Depend upon it, it was got up between those two Chasemore women, whilst the husband was abroad, to cheat him into believing he had got an heir. Now, what do yon think of my putting this and that together, Sir Arthur ? * ' I think you are tha most wonderful little woman in the world.' ' Don't go too fast. I may be mistaken after all. Still when yonr interests are at stake, thb i matter is at least worth oonsidt^ra« tion.' ' By Jove I I should think so I I hare not forgotten the trick Mrs. Vivian Chase- more played me once before, and would incur any trouble or expense to expose such an atrocious fraud on her part now.' ' Ah ! I am afraid you think a great deal too much of her still. Sir Arthur, if yon would go such lengths to obtain your re- venge.' ' Not in the way you imagine, Janet. I have got over my disappointment Ions ago, though I can't quite forgive her for it ; but I am not likely to let myself be guiled a second time, and particularly when die has ]^r« petrated this deception (if deception it be) simply to ruin my interests.' ' It is the vilest thing I even heard of,' acquiesced Miss Oppenheim, ' and we mnst not rest until we have reached the bottom of it.' 'I am afraid the truth will be Ttry diflio«lt THE ROOT OF ALL EYIL ni/^ in ir re* lit be) of.' must ottom to arrive %%, eepeoially (m yon have bonod yonrself to seoreoy.' ' Will yon leave it to me ? Yon know that I am yonr friend acd that I am working entirely for you. Well yon be patient whilst I worm myself further into this woman's confidenoe and try to make her betray her- self,' 'I would trust everything I possess in your hands with the greatest confiaenoe,' ^replied the baronet erowing enthusiastio,as he kissed Miss Oppetmeim beneath the cover of the dnsk. Janet drew ooyly away from him; not as if she were displeased, but only reticent. She knew that men care little for what they can obtain without coat, and had iio intention of selling herself too cheap a bargain. ' Can yon meet me here again, let us^say next Sunday, Sir Arthur, and at the same hour ? Miss Neitherwood is never able to go out in the eveningss and I am free to follow my own inclinations. Pnrhaps by that time I may have some news for you. ' ' I will come without fail, my dear. By Jove t only fancy if it should be true. What an awful sell for poor Vivian, who is as proud over the youngster as a peacock with a tin tail.' * It will serve him right for marrying such an artful, designing woman. He knew she had jilted you and might have guessed there was no good in her.' ' I am afraid he has not made much of a bargain,' replied Sir Arthur. ' It's enough to make a man think twice before he rushes in matrimony.' 'Only that all women are not like her,' interposed Miss Janet softly. ' By George, no ! I know one, and not so far off either, who is worth a dozen of her twice told. But I suppose you can't guess who that is, eh, Janet ?' ' I have not the least idea, Sir Arthur,' said Miss Oppenheim. ae she quickly shook hands with him and slipped away. She was a'^good tactician and did not open the Belton siege until she had formed ner plan of operations, and found a favourable opportunity for oommencinjp;. She had little fear of failure, or at least of failing to find out all that there might be to discover in that servant's past mstory^ For Janet Oppenheim possessed in a high degree that marvellous magentio or mesmeric power, which enables its owner to draw others to them almost against their own will, and which she had never known to prove im- potent except with those who bore her a pre-oonoeived aversim. She was very soft And gentle in her manners with the servaots : too familiar aoaae people would have called her, but aa she had alwajri been more or !•■• dependent on that class for her comfort in life she had found her oondesuennon stand her in good stead. She would sit with thetti of an evening and interest herself (or profess to do so) in all their work or home affairs, questioning them as openly as though they were her equals, whilst she appeared to beaa oonfidential with them in return. So that ftU the menials at Clarence Lodge thought her 'a very affable young lady, though a Ut near with the supper vittles,' and tnre always wishing her * as eood a 'usband as she deserved, and as many friends as there were days in the year.' The soft-hearted, friendless Mrs. Beltdfa (whom everyone will have recognised as ho other than our poor, shiftless Bonnie), Wfm scarcely likely to shut up her lonely soul from the unexpeoted kindness of auch-^a sociable young lady ; and, indeed, in her childish, timid way she had already begun to lean upon Mias Oppenheim as her ooun> sellnr and stay in life. There was only one feeling stronger than gratitude in her breast which kept her lips closed, when Alfred Waverley was mentioned to her. But for the rest, so long as she did not disclose the name that might identify her to her husband, it was a solace in the midst of her misery to be able to talk about it all. *' CHAPTER VL ' I can't help cryino for my babx.*' In order to explain how Bonnie oame to be a schoolroom-msid in Miss Netherwood's service, it will be necessary to go back a little. It will be remembered that the last time Mrs. Bull saw her, she left her in betll with her baby, too sleepy to take her tea or answer questions. Neither of the women knew then how the drowsiness had oome upon her, nlthough it was found out after- wards that Kit Masters had administered a soporific to his wife under cover of the medi- cine. As soon as her neighbour left her, Bonnie fell into a profound slumber, from which she never roused till late at night, when some instinct warned her that it was time to nurse her infant. She was only half* conscious as she put ont her hand to the si^e of the bed where the baby usually lay, atui found an empty space there. Then she wol^e thoroughly, and searching the bed all over without Buccess, leapt from it with a load cry, as the idea darted into her mind that whilst she slept her child had fallen from her arms and been killed. The noise brought Hit Masters upstairs. i!l !! '1' : I •->«' m :« WM ill Mt m ill THi; ROOT OT ALL BVIL. ' What are y« yellia* for t ' h« damandtd, «fhly. * iSy baby 1 ' ezolkimed tha terrified girL ' Wbere ii my baby ? I caonofe fiad it any- where. **h. Kit, have yoa aotitdowii< •lair* f Did yoa take it aloos of yna ? ' * Along of me I ' he growled. ' Waat d'ye ■uppoee I ihoold take a sqaalling brat into the ihou fur f to wake up the whole street. I're haa more 'n eaongh of 'is yells, 1 can tell ye. I aren't 'ad a proper night's rest ■inoe the little hanimal was born, and I won't ■tind it no longer, and that's the hend of the matter.' * Bat where is it?' repeated Bonnie wildly. ' Oive it to me, Kit. I will keep it quiet. It ■hall never worry yoa again. I'll sit ap all night with it rather. Only it is so young ; it shouldn't hare been took out of the bed.' She was hunying on a pair of slippers and a dark tweed oloak that had served her as a dressing-gown as she spoke, though her trembling hands would hardly permit her to do the fastenings. O.ily she was so aaxious to go into the other rm and fetch baok her baby, 'fle would be so cold,' she thought, ' lying there alone.' ' Now, ye jist lie down agin,' s>id Kit sharply. ' I'm not . going to 'ave you oatoh your death o' cold for that blessed babby. Lie down, I say, and cover the clothes over you.' * Yes, Kit, I will— only give me baok my baby, lie must be very hungry, it ie suoh a long time siuoe I nursed him. You shall see now quiet we will be, lying here together.' * Well, then, I can't give 'im you, and so there, lou'd better hear the truth at once.' The mother's eyes almost started from her head with fear. * You can't give him to me 1 Oh, Kit, tell me, quick — what is the matter? Is he deadf ' Not as I knows on. ' ' Where is he, then ?' ' I can't tell you that, neither ; but 'e's well provided fur, and you muat be content to jkuow it.' * •* Well provided for I" ' repeated Bonnie in a dated voice. * Yes, much, better than you could do for 'im, and with a person as knows all about babbies and their ways. I told you a'ready th 1 1 couldn't stand uo more of his screech- in', nor I can't spare you to be a hanuin'arter 'im day and night. And so I've got 'im hout to nuas, where 'u'll t)e safe took care on, and you can git about all the sooner and tend to your dooties ' Bat Bonnie did not quite comprehend him. * Have yoa took him away ?' she said in n fearful whisper. ' Won't they bring him back again ? Shan't 1 sleep along 'im to- night?' Masters broke oat itato a hoarse laugh. ' No, yoa won't, my dear, so the sooner ?oa makes hup yer mind to it the butter, roull see 'im again, maybe, if he grows hup, bat I'll be whipt if I'll 'ave 'im a cuttin' about 'ere aod giviu' trouble for the next ten years. I've shipped him ho£F to the country, where 'e'll be a deal better looked arter than here ; so hall you've got to do his to get to bed agin, and make the beat of it - for the job was done four hours ago and more, and there's no nndoin' it.' ' My baby i Oh, my baby I' shrieked Bonnie, in that voice of despair that reached Mrs. Bell's ears, as she flew past her husband and ran downstairs. At first he did not follow her. He be lieved she had merely gone to search the house fur the infaat, and chuckled in his brutal manner to himself as he thought how her trouble would be wasted. But he waa startled when he heard the shop-door slam. He jumped upaad looked from the window then, fearful of the neighbours' tongues if Bonnie appealed to them in her excited oundition,and made her wroog<) public. Bat all he saw was a dark was figure flying down the street as tlii)Ugh it scarcely touched the ground, and, with an oath at her aud all women, he stumbled downstairs, with the intent to follow and bring her baok. He undid the door, and stared up and down the street, but Bonnie had totally disappeared ; and Mr. and Mrs. Bull were ready to con- front and pester him with the inquiries already related,until he was completely out of temper with them and himself, and retired to rest determined to do nothius; at alL ' Such an infernal fuss,' as he expressed it, ' for a wretched squaller of four days old, whom he'd as soon have drowned as a kitten 1' Meanwhile, Bonnie flew like the wind in the directum of Waterloo Bridge. She hardly knew where she was going, or what she wantennie sprang forward to meet her doom, as if she was rashing into the em- braces of a mother. But help was dose at hand, and she had scarcely sunk before the Soliceman had sammoned it, and she was ragged from the wator and hauled into a boat. Short as the ti ne of her immersion was, however, it was long enough to render her insennible. The unnaturally heated con- dition of both mind and body was snffic^ts to make the shook almost fatal, and fur weeks afterwards Bonnie lay in a hospital com- pletely unconscious of all ^that had befall- en her. As she recovered her strength and her senses the people about her became most anxious to asoertoin her name and address, but they oonld get nothing out of her. She lay in her bed with dosed eyes and silent lips until they began to suspect her of being sillier than she really was. When the time arrived for her discharge, the doctor was quite uneasy to think what would become of the poor shiftless child thrown on the tender mercies of the world ; and tbe matron, who had been attracted by Bonnie's mournful eyes and pertinadous silence, offered to givt her house-room for a little while until she could gBi a situation ot some sort and work for her ving. From this circumstance rose the idea of her going out as a servant. The matron finding the girl almost as reticent when alone with her as she had been in the hospital, advised her to put her name down on the books of a registry office, to which end she appropriated some of the money given her by the sympathetic doctor as a little help upon the path of life. Thus it came to puss that Bonnie fell in with Miss Janet Oppenheim, and was engageil as schoolroom- maid at Clarence Lodge. Her duties lay entirely up-stairs, and as they inclu led a good deal of needle work, which she executed in Janet's room, it naturally followed that that young lady and herself often spent some of the evetiing hours together. On the day when Miss Oppeuheim had decided to try to gaiu her further conAilence, Bonnie was sit- ting as usual, stitohing away at some house linen. She looked Tury staid and pret^ in her print dress and white cap, with her fair ■oft hair parted neatly on her forehead ; bat her face had orown very Htun, and then were lines auoat the ohildiah qnivering month that had never been there before. The trouble poor Bonnie had passed thraagh had cleared and strengthened her brain, and made her more womanly than she had ever been before. She would never be clever (live as long as she might), but the ' daft *' look of which her old grandmother had om- plained, seemed to have been lost in the plaintively quiet expression which now per" vaded her features. That she oonld hold her own was proved by the pertinacity with which refusea to give J iuet any information of importance respecting herself, for with the excepfcion of talking of her little baby, she was almost obstinate. But touching that, she felt she must have relief. Her mother's heart would have broken with long- ing despair if she could not sometimes have indulged it with weeping for her lost littl* one. Janet entered the room with some needle> work in her own hands. It was evident thalf she intended to spend some time in the oom- Eany of her servant She sat down beside •onnie as naturally as though they had been sisters, and smiled kindly in the blue eye* that were raised to her own. ' Well, Beltoa, how are you getting on with the pillow-oases ? Rather hard sewing, I am afraid,bat like most disagreeable thin^,the7 must be done.' Bonnie, who had never been famous as a aeamstresfl, regarded her pricked fingers with a deprecatory look. * Yes, miss, the stuff be hard — I mean, it is hard — though I've rubbed it well too.' Miss Oppenheim had been correcting Bon- nie's grammar amongst other things, until the girl had begun to be ashamed of speak- ing in the old way. ' Let me soap that seam for you, Belton. It will be twice as easy then. And your thimble is too large. You can never work comfortably with it. I will lend you mine. I have another in my basket.' 'Thank you, miss,' said Bonnie, grateful- ly- It was by such little acts of attention, politically bestowed, that Janet Oppeuheim owed her sm^cese in getting her own way with both the upper and lower classes. 'Oh, it is nothin.', Belton • It is my ob- ject to get the work done, you know. And I am hemming these frills to trim them with. They arA for Miss Netherwood's pillows. Sue is very particular about the appearanoo ''•■II i it ' I'i ! iSS THB BOOT OF ALL JSVIU of h«r bed, wi has always been umcI to have frilled pillow-oasei*' ' I don't think MiM Nethenrcod would know how to get on without you, nuM.' ' Don't you I But the may have to do it all the same, Belton.' ' You're not going away from n« V oried Bonnie, in real aiitrcM,a8 she graaped Janet's black ailk apron. ' No I no 1 not nt preaent, at all eventa. Still I do not suppone I shall live here always. I might marry some day.' ' Ob, don't you marry.miss 1' exclaimed th« mrl earnestly, ' it's a bad job, that marriage, for any poor woman. Seo how I sufferod from it. It a'most killed me.' * Poor thing ! yes, I know it did ; but then you had a very bad husband, Belton. All men are not bo bad as he was. Perhaps you married in too jgreat a hurry and had not seen sufiBoient of him.' ' No I I didn't ' was the mournful answer. ' For months and months I wouldn't have him nor even speak to him, but grand* mother said he was such a likely fellow,aud oould keep me so well that 'twould be a sin 'tossy "no " to him.' ' Your grandmother was mistaken evi- dently, for he seems to have been the worst husband I ever heard of.' ' Yes, miss, he was. The verv worst.' ' You must try and not think about it, Belton. You will make yourself quite ill if you cry so much.' * I «an't help crying for my poor baby, miss. He was such a dear little fellow and the very image of me. I feel as if iny heart would break whenever I remember him.' ' If it really relieves your mind to speak of him,fielton, of course I would not forbid your doing so. You can talk as you will to me, you know. I shall never repeat what you say.' ' I know yon won't miss, and it's been a great comfort to me to open my heart to you as I have. The nights are the worst part of it, when I can't speak to you as I'v^ got his little head aside of me, and, when I remem- ber as I shall never see him again, I feel as if I should go mad.' 'Are you sure you will never see him again ? ' demanded Janet, deliberately, as she looked Bonnie in the face. ' Why, how can I, miss, when that brute stole him out of my very bed, and sent bim away to the country ? I know nothing about the precious child — who's got him, nor where he went. We can't never meet until the Judgment Day,' ' But becauBO your husband did not choose .to tell you where the baby was gone, is no nason chat we ahonld not find out, Belton. Of course, it will cake time and trouble, and we might be disappointed, after all : but if the loss makes yon so miserable, surely it is worth the attempt.' The pillow-oasei dropped from Bonnie's hand, aa she turned startled eves of surprise and inquiry upon Janet Opp*nheim. ' Miss, miss I do you mean aa you think I oould ever find by baby sffsin ?' ' Why not ? If the child is alive he must be somewhere, and you have a right to know where that is. Your husband cannot have sent him away without the knowledge <^ some other people— his parents, peru^ps ; and I feel sure that proper inquiries would elect intelligence conoeruing him.' Bonnie sunk on her knees and, hiding her face in Miss Oppenhim's dress, burst into a flood of excited tears. ' Oh, miss !' she sobbed, ' Oh, miss lif yon could find my little boy for me again, I would serve you without wages to the very last day of my life.' \pome, Belton, don't be foolish. I will help you in every way I can, if you will be quite open with me. Dry your eyes, and let us sit down and talk the matter over quietly. Miss Netberweod has eone out for the aftemoon,and will not be back until late. We have a good time to ourselves, and you can speak as freely as you choose.' ' \\ hat can I tell you more, iniss f replied Bonnie, as she settled herSelf to her work •gsin. * Why, I don't even know your husband's name, nor where he lives, flow could I set anybody to find out where the baby is, unless he is told the name and address of the person who sent him away, ^r, as you say, stole him.' ' I'm sure he stole him,' retorted Bonnie. * What should he want to pay for my child being nursed out for ? He wasn't over and above free with his money, miss ; and the- poor baby would have cost him nothing at home.' ' That is one point of importance,' said Janet, as she noted the fact in her pocket- book. ' But then, on the other hand, what should he steal the boy for T' 'To sell him, maybe,' replied Bonnie bitterly ; ' he was such a beautiful baby — anyone might have been glad to buy him. He had blue eyes, amost as bie as mine, and yellow hair on his head as soft as gosling's* down, and such pretty little toes and fingers.' The poor young mother, in her excess of vanity, had hit the right nail on the head, although she little believed it. 'Come, Belton,' said Janet laughing, ' stiok to raason. Whoever heard of a baby being sold? Who would buy it? People have Snei •y 'Y was j and 1 his SI «rer 1 to brii 'y< know, •W; becaui river I oould] should I want sndif ] togethe Kit— if hear oi than ] yon thii Bonni Msuran< child br serving i •Oh; member, back to miss. < be's a , nine in of Drun wife as i friend to that all : But you you?' 'Nevei •o fear Mary M) calling yo Mquenoe.' .'MissN miss, nor poor Bon flihe was but her oh oeen rash, mounted o' ' Certain I Belton, to *bont your i the day he clothes he I exaot a des< can give me 'He was |*«t August 'MrnBuUi THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. 18S Sonnie'a ■urpme think I he mutt to know lot have ledge of perhaps ; es would iding her rttinto a M lit you , I would IT last day I wUl »u will be eyes, and atter over ne out for until late. I, and you f replied her work luaband'e soold 1 eet is, unless the person say, stole A Bonnie. ,r my ohild i over and . and the m nothing mce, said er pocket- Ana, what od Bonnie ful baby- buy him. mine, and sosling'S' jd fingers.* )r excess of theheadi ^ing, * stick itby being 9ple have generally more children of their own than ^ey know what to do with.' ' Yes, miss, so I've heard ; still my husband was just the man to part with hisfown flesh and olood for money. He loved money as his soul, so I don't believe he would have ever troubled about the child, unless it was to bring him something.' ' You must tell me your real mame, tou know, Belton, if I'm to do you any good. ' Will it send me back to Kit, miss ? because if it do I'll throw myself into the river again first.' ' I promise you it shall not. What object eeuld I have in betraying you to him? I should gain nothing and lose a good servant. I want to find your baby for you, Belton, and if I can, you shall both be sent away together, whenever you may choose, so that Kit — ^if that's the man's name, may never hear of you again. I have more money than you think of and I promise you this upon my sacred word of honour.' Bonnie could not disbelieve so solemn an assurance, and the idea of regaining her child broke down all her resolutions of pre. serving secrecy. ' Oh, miss 1 I mnat trust you, but re> member, I'll kill myself sooner than go back to him. His name is Kit Masters, miss.. Chistopher Masters that is, and he's a |n-een*grooer as lives at number nine in Little Tobago Street at the back of Drury Lane. Mrs. Bull, the butcher's wife as fives round the comer, was a good friend to me and grandmother, and knows that all I've told yon is the gospel truth. But you'll never betray me, miss, will you t' ' Never, m^ poor girl I You need have BO fear of it. And so your name is Mary Masters. However, I must go on calling you Belton, so that is of little con- sequence.' 'Miss Netherwood won't never know of it, miss, nor the other servants,' contiuued poor Bonnie dropping a few quiet tears. She was half afraid now that she had let but her cherished secret, whether she had not oeen rash, but the thought of her baby sur- mounted every other. ' Certainly not ! But now I want you, Belton, to tell me all you can remember about your child. The day he was born and the day he was taken away from you, what clothes he had got on at the time and as exact a description of his appearance as you can give me.' ' He was bomd on the twenty-seventh of last August, miss, at three in the af tei noon. Mm, Bui was along of me at the time as has had seven herself, and she said he was the finest child she'd ever ' ' Yes, yes, Belton, I understand all that. Well, he was born on the twenty-seventh. What day was he stlilen from your ' On thirty-first, niise. He was getting on so beautiful and filling out as fast as could be, and we had been sleepmg together all day, and when I woke up in the night, my poor baby was gone and I've never seen him since.' ' He was only four days old then, when you lost him.' ' Jnst ! o, r.jss ! And I went quite wild when I found it out and throwd myself in the river.' * Stop a minute ! Did your husband ever hint to you that he meant to put it out to nurse ?* ' Never, miss 1 Be used to swear at its screaming when Mrs. Bull washed it, but I thought nothing of that. Kit was allays awearing. ' ' What did he say when you awoke and missed the baby ?' ' He said he'd shipped him o£f to the coun- try (oh, I mind it so well ! I can rem9r>V>c)* every 1), and that I should never set ', a again till he was grow'd up, may be, bu !; be was well provided for, and I must be content with that.' ' Why didn't you ask where he had sent himT' 'Oh I I did, miss. I asked SA»in and again ; but he said first that he didn t know, and then th%t the dear baby was with some one who could take much better care of him than I could (as if any one could love him like his mother I) and that he wouldn't stand his screeching and screaming. And then, when I cried he said I must make the best of it, for the job was done and couldn't be un- done again. ' * Are you sure he said that T ' 'The very words, miss. Every one's burned in upon my brain. They told me at the hospital that I kept repeating them over and over again all the while I lay ilL' ' Belton I the more I think of this busi* ness, the more I feel inclined to agree with you that your husband sold the baby to some one.' 'Oh, they'll never give him up again, then 1 ' cried the poor mother} with clasped hands. ' If we trace them, they must. It s not lawful to sell a child in this country. But it will take a long time to find out, and you must try and be patient. Let me hear your description of the baby over again.' ' He was a big boy, miss, and weighed a good twelve pounds when he was born. 'if. iim' m m ■ff: i ;.|i. -i- 124 TEE ROOT OF ALL EYIL And he h»d bine ejM and soft light hair (thor3 1 just the moral of mioe), and laoh a •arioufl IHtle mark on bia left ear.' ' A mark/ exclaimed Janet, qaiokly, * that is of the ntmoet importance, Belton. ' Why, mite ? ' she aaked, aimply. ' Bdcaaee, yon gooie I don't you know that all little babiee are alike, and if they have BO distinguishing mark it is almost impos* ■ible to know them ; tell me all yon can about the baby's ear.' ' It was so funny, miss ; I never seed such a thing before, but Mrs. Bull said they called it a " pig's ear " down her country si.le, and that the baby would be a rare greedy little fellow.' * Mrs. Bull saw it too, then T ' * Oh yes, miss 1 the very day they took him from me. She came in to give me my tea, but I was too sleepy to take it. But I showed her the baby's ear. It rose on the top with a white lump like a carrant, that made it look square, and for all the world like a little pig's.' ' Should you know it again if you saw it, Belton T' ' Know it again, miss ? ' echoed Bonnie, with overflowing eyes. ' Oh ! 1 should know my dear baby any wheres. He wasn't one to be mistook.' ' To bi mistaken I ' corrected Janet, quick- ly. * Now there is another question I want to ask you, Belton. You mentioned to me ouce that your husband had be- trayed a friends of yours for tifty pounds. Was not that friend Mr. Alfred Waverley T ' The blood lushed in a torrent over poor Bonnie's brow and boaom, dyeing thnm orimson ; and for momenta' she could do no more than bend her head over her work in silence. ' The little matters are more diffioult to keep aecrets than you think of Belton. Mr. Waverley is a well known gentle- man, and everybody has hearft of his being discovered by means of a fifty pound re- ward.' ' Do you know him, miss ? ' demanded Bonnie, in a low voice. ' No, I do not, but I am acquainted with several persons who do. ' 'Oh I if I could ouly speak to him for a minute,' said Boonie, still blushing from the efifort of mentioning hia name. * I think he would help me 1 He was al- ways so good aiid kind to me, Mr. Waver- ley was. I am ?nre he would help to find my poor baby. ' Janet aaw her way now to bribing the girl nto further confidence. 'You shall see him, if you wish it, 'she answered stoutly. ' I will answar for thai, and between us all Belton, it will be hard if we oannot do something to help yoa oat af this scrape.' * Oh, miss I how good yoa aro i' * But where did yoa become aoqaaintad with M<. Waverley t' The question succeeded so natarally that Bonnie answered it withoat oonaid«ra> tion. ' He lodged at grandmother's, miM, for many years.' ' Ah I when he was on the staK* ? And ho was found there,of ooune ?' ' Yes, mias.' ' And Maaters was the person to giro af his address ?' ' Yes, miss.' ' Then you must have seen the lawjer, Mr. Farthingale r 'A reassy- * Listen Mr* Viv her bouse *Bd horses, and her son hoaband'a n '•?*: THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. for thai, m hardU M OOfeof lai oqnainttd natvrally oonsidcm' miM, for T Aftdbi io «!▼• nf M lawyerp gentleniMi, I see grand* niarried, a after Mr. , Bolton. I gain. It is )m following nd my baby f ooold bo ' he'd help Imoat happy splied Janol yoa must bo 1 aU thinsa. oe, 10 I do Bring . but I a wait aomo rou hear tho , and it can obeying ia* on.' miia— indeed y, M »bo ben* ' work agMA > foon^. haviilg information urt'. nation to Sit ir in a aeqao* on the f ouow* lemed to form of evidenoo ik misHingtO Arthur, and the inf»nt in that was born I most diffionlk ] part of tho bnsineas to mo. Who ia to Montify n ohild loat sight of at four dnya oldf * I agreo with yon. The mothor'a recogni- tion would not Vie naflBuient, even though the bov appears to have been marked, for two ohildron might ))e marked alike. Therefore it will bo quite neoessary to get one of the oenfederatea to betray herself as welL' •WhiehwonlddosoT' * Mrs. Oeoeral Chasemore I Yon know she haa a world-wide reputation for drinking, and a woman who drinKS baa neither brain nor diaoretion. She ia sure to let out tho secret in her onpt,' * That would do noeleaa, unleaa there were more than one witness by to hear the con- fession and expose it' * I know that, therefore I intend to be one of th«ae witnesses and to provide the other. Then, when Mrs. General Ohasemore denies her own words and Mrs. Vivian backs her deceit, I will prodnse fieltor to recognise the chUd.' * How will yon gain access to them f *I am going to tell you all my plans. Miss Netherwood's sister comiss to stay with her next week, and she has just offered m« a month'a holiday, which I have accepted. That will give mo the time and opportunity to put them into execution and to succeed, if succesa is obtainable.' ' Janet I you are the most wonderful little manmuvrer I ever met with.' * I am doing it all for your sake. Sir Arthur.' * Why ftddresB me so formally ? ' Does not an intinuMy of three years' standing warrant a little more familiarity ? I always call you ••Janet." ' * I know yon do, but there should be more reticence in a soman's tongue than in that of a man. We a.-e only friends.' ' Are you quite sure of that, Janet ? Has it never strncK yon that our relations are aasnming a somewhat warmer character than that of fricndabip T ' * I don't know what yon mean' — Arthur,' •aid pussy-cat, with downosst eyea. * Listen to me me, then, and I will tell yon. CHAPTER Vn. *vo uximsi nr HIM TO UTHSR ov THKM.' Mrs. Vivian Chasemore, notwithstanding her house in Premier Street, her carriage nnd horses, her security from future poverty and her aon and heir, was miserable 1 Her hnaband's return, to which ahe had looked forward with more pleasurable anticipation than she had ever felt in her life befuro, had only filled her breast with apprehension and alarm. He had become so suddenly and absurdly fond of the child I Kegina had hoped and imagined that ther supposed birth would make Vivian pronde ahd fonder of herself, and smooth over the unhappy dif* ferences which had latelv marred their married life and caused her more secret grief than her pride would permit her to acknowledge. But ahe had not expected that whilst he did not much more than keep on friendly terms with herself, he would lavish all the love for which, now that it appeared to be slipping from her grasp, sh« had commenced to pine, upon hia suppoaitiont son. It turned her sick with envoy to see thn caresses Vivian gave the little one, or to hear him talk fondly to it when they wem alone togttther and there was no one to laugh at his paternal weakness. Her jealousy urged her to be almost rough with the baby, and the idea that she did not care for it made her husband (till warmer in hia ex* pression of affection. ' You don't luve our little bry, Begina,' he naid reproachfully one day, when he and sho and the infant were alone in her dressinj^ room, and he had held the little fellow up to her to receive an indifferent caress. ' Oh 1 yes, I do I but I never cared for young babies, Vivian. They are all so much alike.' ^ ' Well, I used to think the same before this little chap came, but every day seems to make a difference in him now. Look 1 how he's staring at that prismstic glass. I'm snro he sees the changing colours in it I Havo yon ever noticed what » atrangely-shapod ear he has, Regina V * No i which ear f 'The left I Look at it t It is nearly square.' ' It will be very ugly when he grows up f ' What a shame I He's going to be the bonniest boy in Epgland. Tell naughty mamma to kiss you, baby, and beg your pardon for calling anything about voa "ugly."' He put the child into Regina's arms as he spoke, but she held it so awkwardly that it puckered up ito mouth and began to cry. It was not the poor girl's fault. The beautiful instinct of n>atemity that tranaforms every mother, however young, into a nurse, had never come to her assistance. The baby cried, and she did not know how to soothe it * Do ring for the nurse, Vivian. He gete more fractious every day. I wiah he would I .i^fti:.t-..a.^ia;^;. nj^ iM THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. trow » Utile fMtar. Ohildren are so maoh nioer when they o«n ruo aboat.' * /Ind then yoa will went to put him into a Jacket And kniokerbookera and harrv him off to eohool,' Mid Viviaa warmly. ' I wiah Tou showed a little more interest in him, Regina. It leeme so uaaatural that you •hould not do lo.' ' I am aurto I do everything; I can for him,' •he answered quiokly. (The term 'unuatural idarmed her. ) ' Ue has the best nursery and the best nurse in London. Mrs. Fleming is quite devoted to the child and thinks nothing too good for him.' ' And no more she ought,' said Vivian as he walked to the window and drummed upon the |iaues to attract the infant's notice. Amongst men he would have been as shy as most young fathers of aokaowledging the affection he had conceived for this little child ; but he felt his heart growing closer to it,day by day, and spent hoars ia dream- ing of a future when he and his son should be friends and companions and bear the burden of life for one another. ' Oh 1 Vivian ! you are making such a dreadful noise,' shepleaded|fretfuliy. He sighed and walking away from the window gave the infant a coloured scent- bottle to play with, which it immediately thrust into his mouth. * I have wanted to speak to you, Regina, ever since I came home, about something, but I have not had courage to introduce the subject fdr two reasons. First, be ause you have been ill and I cannot bear to annoy you, and secondly, because it is such an un- pleasant one.' * If it is unpleasant, Vivian, for Heaven's ■ake keep it to yourself.' * No ! that is impossible, and the sooner I ■peak the sooner it will be over. Mrs, General Ohasemore was here yesterday after- noon, was she not ?' * Yes 1 How can I refuse myself to her after all she has done for me ?' ' I acknowledge it will be difficult to break oft' the acquaintance again, and I am very ■orry for it. But I cannot have your good name suffer because this woman happened to be in the hotel when you were taken ill.' ' It she hadn't been there, I might have died.' murmured Regina. ' 80 she wrote to me, and no words can express the gratitude I felt to think you had help ati haad. Still ought I on that ac- count to permit you to eudure the society for life of a person whom I know to be a most disreputable connection ? If Mrs. Chasemore had any delicaoj , eke would not come here, after what passed between us, but she has none. I mait leare it to you, therefore, to break off the intimaoy as qniok* ly as possible.' ' I am sure .1 Idon't know how to do it I' ' How, did you manase to cnt Mr*. Henry Lascellei and Lady Onncan ' when yo« heard of their antecedents?' demanded Vivian sternlv. ' Neither of them was my hniband's itep< mother. ' ' Bother the itepmothership I We owe Mrs. Chasemore no extra duty on than ao* count, rather less 1 She inveigled my poor father into marrying her when uielknew that had he possessed an inkling ofher true character he would have fled her a« a pes- tilence. Regina ! I have not told yon naif of that woman's profligacy. I did not like to pollute the ears of my wife with such stories. But her drinking propensities are perhaps the least of her crimes. She is a known vicious character, and I will not permit her to darken my doors. ' ' Oh ! I hope vou are not going to begin that subject all over again. One would think I had brought Mrs. Chasemore into your family. She was not my father's wif«j. ' ' My dear Regina, I am not blaming yon for the present inconvenience ; though it is an old sore of mine, as you well know. It has been the cause uf great unhappiness — to me at least — for when I parted witn you last May, I did not care if I ever came home again or not. So, added to all the past, she is now doubly odious to me. when I think how nearly she wrecked our bves. But idl I ask of you is to do your best in the future. Deny yourself to her when she caUs— make what excuses you oan — but let her see that you are determined not to oarry on the ac> quaintanceahip. I would have given any- thing that she should not have been the one elected by Fate to be present at your con- finement 1' ' So would I,T acquiesced Regina, and sin- cerely, for she was beginning to fear that Mrs. General Chasemore might not be a very safe person to quarrel with. ' It was truly unfortunate I I have never nnderstood how the old woman happened to be at the same inn with yon, nor why the landlady could not have attends to you her- self,' said Vivian. ' And what on earth were you doing at}8uch a time wandering about alone in an out-of-the way place like Fays la reine ?* ' I had Selina Farthingale vnth me,' stam- mered Regina, who felt she sank deeper in the mire every time the dread^ subject was broached. to you, I qniok* to do . Henry m. yo« nuuided I'a step* Nt owe han M* nay poor aew that ler true M»pe8- yon hftlf i not like th such itiee are She iB : will not to benn ae woald aore into father's ming yoQ »agh it is inow. It riness— to I you last me home past, she )n I think But all I he future. I— make ir see that on the ao« iven any- m the one your con- and sin* fear that not be a r w Lave neyer ._ to ..'hy the you her- hrth were ing about :e Pays la le,' stam- deeper in labjeot was THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL.! * And yon seem to hare straok np sach a friendship for tiiat old nuud too I I thought yon hated her before our marriage.' ' Oh I no I it was not quite so bad as that 1 I don't oare muoh for her, even now, but she was very kind to me whilst yon were away. Don't be hard on me, Vivian. I was very lonely and — and — miserable, and whatever I did wrong, I did for your sake,' said Resina, r^psing mto tears. So unusual a mood on her part, softened him at onoe. Don't ory, ray angel 1 I am not angry. I only want to oantion and advise you. There I baby ! go and ouddle in your mother's arms and tell her we both love her dearly.' But Re({iua puahed the infant away. 'I only want y iu,' she whispered, as she laid her wet face against that of Vivian. ' Well, you have me, dear, fast enough, I'm sure, he aaswered, laughing ; ' and there's no one to dispute your nghts, unless it be this young monkey here ; and if you find him a nuisance, why it's all your own fault, you know, and you must grin and bear it.' How well she knew it to be her own fault 1 How often she had wished even by this time that she could have been content to try and win back her husband's affection by herself, and leave the future with God. ' Shall I send him away ? Does he annoy you I ' asked Vivian, as she lay back on the sofa with dosed eyes and knitted brow. ' I have one of my bad headaches,' she an- swered, and he rung the bell for the nurse. The door opened, and k, stranger stood on the threshold. ' Mrs. Fleming is occupied for the moment, ma'am, and cannot come downstairs. Shall I take the baby up to her ? ' * Yea, perhaps you had better do so. ' The woman received the infant from Vivian's arms and carried it carefully away. ' Who is that, Regina ? I never saw her before.' ' She only came here yesterday evening The upper housemaid had announced to me most unexpectedly in the morning that she must return home at once as her mother had broken her back, or some rubbish of that sort, but that her cousin would take her place whilst she was away. So, as servants ape scarce, and I don't want to lose Ellen, I let the cousin came and that is she. Her name is Jane. She seems a decent enough body.' ' Very much so ! I like her appearance im- mensely. She looks so modest and has such a soft voice. I think Ellen had better stay away altogether.' ' I don't know that Jane would remain if she did. Nurse told me this moming that she is engaged to be married. She seems to take a great interest in the baby. Perhaps that is the reason.' 'I hope she will be very oarefnl of him. These girlr are so ignorant some- times.' ' Fleming will take oare he comes to no harm.' * So muoh the better. Well, dear. 111 leave you now, and perhaps yon wiU go to sleep and get rid of your headache. Don't fiet about what I said to you, Regina. The task will be easier than you imagine, and after what she did for you and our baby I don't want to have to attack the old wcman myself on the subject.' ' Oh, no ! pray don't' oried Regina nerv- ously. * I will do all that is necessary, Vivian — indeed I will — and avoid her as much as- possible for the future.' But when her husband had left her to get rid of her fictitious headache, Regina knew that she had promised more than she could possibly perform. It was all very well to tell her to drop Mrs. General Chasemore, but that lady had already intimated pretty strongly that she had no intention of being dropped. Four months only had passed by since she had done Regina, what she called ' the gre^tteat service possible on earth,' and she had already drawn more than onoe on her patience and time and purse, in return for the risk she had run in her behalf. The money was but a drop in the ocean. Vivian kept his wife so liberally supplied that ten, twenty, or even thirty pounds at a time was not seriously missed from her private funds ; but when she found that Mrs. Chasemore intruded upon her not in the dusk of the evening only, or when she had been invited as heretofore, but at any moment of the day, heedless whether she encountered the master of the house or not, Regina became seriously alarmed, for what might t.ranspire if those two met and the lady was thrown off her guard, she was afraid to thiuK. Mrs. Chase- more had once frightened her beyond measure by affirming that she had a rod in pickle for Master Vivian if he dared to insult her in the future. Her wretched victim had not been bold enough to ask her the meaning of her words, but she gnessedit too well, and had been toe timid since even to suggest that her visitor should uhoose more reasonable hours for calling at the house. Onoe she had appeared there when considerably the worse for liquor, and Regina, blushing with shame that her servants should be witness to her own degradation in owning such a connection, had yet been obliged to enter- tain her for some nours whilst she strove by ■' ijiji! !,li .^ li .^ Ill Tm ROOT OF ALL IVa. trtry umu in her power to prtTVDl hw lood tonMsnd aDKO»r«l«d wordi from mskiog Aft«ir way beyond tho walla of bar privata •illing-rooni. ' Lr»r, m V daar I and bow'i tba ebild getting on T ' »ha bad exolaimed on that oouMioq. * I mel it in tba park the other day, and tliottgbt I should have buret out langbiag in the Duna's face when she informed m« it was frowins more like its dear papa aT«ry day. vor Vivian I What a oosterinonger s out ba must have about him.' 'Ob bush I prav,' eutreated Regina with blanched oh4>eks y ' the whole house will hear yuu, Mrs. CluMiamore,ir you do not take mora oare.' * Well, and what if they do f It needs more than a oouple of words to settle a business of that kiud. But what have you been doing to the brat ? He looks very puny to me.' * I don't know why he should. Mrs. Flem' ing takes the greatest oare of him, I believe. But she says ho is like a child whose mother has fretted. She looked very suspiciously at mc as she spjke.' ' Ha I ha ! ha i She has heard of Master Vivian's 'escapade,' I suppose.iu the servants' hall, sod fancied it worrid yuu and had an afftiot upon the child. She little thinks how philoxophinally you took it. ' ' But it did worry me I' replied Regina, with dignity. ' I don't think yuu give me «redit for maintaioing even friendly relations With my husband, Mn. Chasemore.' * Oh don't try to humbag me I' exclaimed the old wr an rudely ; . * I can see the terms you are on t(»getber perfectly. And as if you would hnve done what you have done if there had been the least affection btttween yon I You like the money, my dear, aud yon would have sold your soul to sfcure it. That's the lon^ '^^ short of the mat- iar' * I oftt:. wish I hadn't done it,' sighed Begins. 'I had better have sold my soul then established such a constant dread for myself. There is not a day but what I fear the whole thing. may cnme out.' * Pooh ! Qonsense I how cau it ? uuIms yon are fuol enough to turu qucAu's evidence against yourself. You know Selioa's staunch and so am I. By the way, my dear, I'm Soing to ask you to do me a little favour. ly wretched quarterly pittance is not due till the er.d of the mouth, and I have a horrid impudent fellow dunning me foJ a linen* draper's bilL It's only twelve pounds. Can you lend me the money till Saturday week t' * I think I can,' replied Regina, as she rose and opauad her asoritoire to get the notes. But the seorat drawer was empty. '1 forgot,* she added, suddenly, * I left my pursa ia tba library ysstarday. I will go aud (atcfe it.' But assbawaa about to leave the rtKmi, she henrd Vivian's voice in tba hall below. ' Oh T Mrs. Chasemore,' she exoUimed, turning bsck with alarm. ' My husband has oome home. Yon must wait for the money till to. morrow.' ' No such thing, my dear I it'a quite im> possible, 'replied the widow with an nomi>Ted oountenanca ' I shall be thrown on my beam ends if I go without it. The man u to call again this evening, (pmd I promised ba should be paid.' ' But Vivian i« sure to ba in the library I He will see me looking for my purse, aud ask what I want it for. Perhapa he will follow me upstairs too.' ' I can't help it if he does t I don't in- tend to take any more impudenoe from him, I can tell you. ' * But «>h I Mrs. Chasemore, do please oon- sider ; if Vivian were to tind you here, thera might be another row, and it is so uupleas* ant before the servsnt. ' 'I will soon stop his tongue, my dear 1 I J have it in mv power to make a greater row I than he if I feel so inclined.' * But if you would go now— yon don't mind my speaking openly do you / I will send you the notes by this evening's post without fail.' * They will be of no use to me then. I must have them by nine o'clock to> night.' * I will fetch them then,' cried Regina in desperation ; 'only pray lock the door of the room inside, and let no one enter till I ra- turn. I She bad to tell all sorts of fibs to get away from her husbaud^ who wanted to detain bar in the library whilst he related the day's ad« ventures ; but she managed to shake him off at la»t and return to the boudoir. The ex* citement and flutter of the affair, adiled to the difficulty of getting the half intoxicated woman out of the house without being seen, afterwards made Regina quite ill, but it did not seem to have the least effeot upon Mnk General Chasemore. *Lor', my dear,' she said contemptuously, * you're far too nervous to undertake mnj- thing like an intrigue. You should bare been one of the htvey-dovey-cooey sort of wives, who oonsidor it incumbent to tell their husbands every time they cut their nails. I should never be surprised to hear any day that you had blabbed the whole story to him yourbelf. You're a very different sort of woman Irom what I expeuted. However, aa yon i«li< loVfl and hal the ■tair wato ahonl ikeli Bq the a: bade for a I bepli ings ( notth orfeai for as was E money her inc Byt ««tablii *he nev day (to Settles ■tanoec -Farthiuj "ide of . puiedl of amns iiiaoy a i disoontii •nd beffi withhu eld maid ing dish twice he Mked hei her night gather in to find th with a loo Meanw ^Uy, and ▼ivian C And poor bis peace, •onsideret get rid of she firmly in betray in bedarired: >i wild t whether sh eoald not Viinan tafc viaJia, or «( •' How life ^hy. But H' THB ROOT OF ALL EVIL. M I is ■tok MHIli tlow. med, IhM Mm«7 • lm> noTad >n mj n»n u •edho jnny I le, Mid B wiU •n't in- DB hiflBi Me oon< B, there LupleM* earl I iter row n't mind ill aend without len. I luck to* yon Mem Anxioae to do the domeetio, I'll raUera von of my preaanoe. Good -bye I my lovatoMMterVi ~ Let »wfty bUin her ^ay'a ad- J him off [The ex- d«1ed to Dxioftted log 8«en, It it did Mra. jtuonsly, Ike »Dy* lid have sort of ell their kaila. I kny day f tuhim I Bort of |rever» •• 'irian Peregrine Chaaamora;. and oomplimanta to Menaienr aon pere— ka i ha l)ia r And, nnder the gnardianahip of a aarrant, the wretohad woman had atnmbled down* itaira, whilat Ite,(ina bung nrer the baii'aters, watohtog with hreathleaa fear leat Vivian ahonld be diaturbed by the noise, and leave the library to learn the reaaon of it. But though noauoh 'oontretempa'ooourred, the ezperienoe of that day and other* liUe it, had eonvinocd Regina that no frailer teuure for a aeoret oould be found than the faitb to be plaoed in Mra. General Chaaemore'a feel- inga of prudenoe or honour. And aha waa not the only peraon either to be conciliated or feared. Selina Farthingale alao came in for a ahare of good thioga, and, although she waa not in a poaition to require loans of money, ahe did not fail tn make Regina feel her indebtedneaa to her in other ways. Bv the time Vivian reached heme, ahe had eatabliahed an intimacy in the houae which ahe never afterwarda abandoned. Day after day (to the great diseust of Lady William Nettleship, who considered tha» the ciroum- atance defrauded her of her justrigfeta) Miss Farthingale appeared in the carriage by the flideof Mra. Vivian Chaaemore, ot acoom* panied her to the theatrea and other places of amusement. Vivian considered the inti- macy a nuisance, and wished Recina would discontinue it. He had never liked Selina, and began to think he should never be alone with hia wife again, ao peraistently did the eld maid, aa he called her, appear as a stand- ing dish at their dinner-table. Once or twice he joked Reiq[ina on the subject, and asked her if her friend had better not bring her ni^t'Oap and take up her abode alto, getker in Premier-atreet, and was surprised to find that the joke fell flat or was received with a look of conf asion or dismay. Meanwhile Selina kept her footing man- fully, and had come to be regarded as Mrs. Vivian Chasemore's most intimate friend. And poor Vivian wondered at it all. and held his peace. Regiua's heart stood still as she eousidered by what means she should ever get rid of these two harpies, each of whom she firmly believed would hkve no hesitation in betraying her if no further beneit were to be vlarired nom keeping ber secret. y&. wild thought flashed through her brain whether she could bribe the doctor to say she eonld not live in England, and make Vivian take her away to America, or Aus- rralia, or some far off place, and commence :i new life there with him, and — and — with W,by. But tbe next moment she had almost t smiled at her own aimplioity. To what part of the world could aha go, where lettara oould not follow and annoy oar, and to what and had aha connived at deoeiviog her htta« band, if aha were oompalled to raaign all tkn delighta of society and oiviliaation in order to carry out her plot with sucoeea. Vo ; how* evrf difficult and thoruv the path aha had marked out for heraelf, aha muat traad it now without flinching. There waa no going back, and there was no r ef using to pay th« debt she had incurred. She could uava? get rid of Mra. General Chaaemora nor SeliiKi Farthingale. Her beat hopa muat be that they would continue tu cliiig to and be faithful to her. But how to deceiva Vivian and yet retain the affection on which ahe was beginning to aet ao high a value T Regina aa she thought of the diffioultiea in her way, wished that aha had died before ahe had consented to make such a dupe of him. If the death of the child could have compassed her 4nds, I believa she could have found it in her heart t» murder the poor innocent in order to be fraa to win back her husband's love with a clear conscience. But she knew that the baby'a death would not release her from the bond* age in which she had enthralled herself. Two other women would still know tha hateful secret and hold it in terrorem over her. So there seemed to be no hope nor help anywhere for Kegiua as she lay upon her couch and mourned over the consequeuoaa of her deceit. Meanwhile, the new aervant Jane had carried the infant in hia beautiful lace robaa and white satin ribbons safely to the nursery where Mrs. Flem'ng was in the actof getting up some valuable lace. Here's the young gentleman, 'she aaid, aa ahe entered the room. ' It waa his papa wh* gave him to me. What a handsome man ha is nurse I I am afraid baby will never be a* good•lookin^.' ' Well, no I he don't favour hia papa, da he T I think he'll take mure after the mia* tress, being so fair.' *I can't aee any ikeuess in him ta either of them, thoBgh I dare say he'll be a pretty enough little fellow when he ip-owa up.- But I never aaw a child with so strMiga an ear 1' ' Now what's to find fault with in tha blessed innocent's ear I' exclaimed Flaming, quick like all nurses, to take offence at any slur cast upon her charge. ' This little lump ! it sticks ao.' 'Blc^ss you, that'a nothing! I eonfeM^ when I tirat aaw it, 1 thonght it might want the knife, but I showed it ta tha daatar, and ;'l ,1!- lao THB ROOT Of ALL WTiL, h% Mid 'Iwoold b« lurdly nolioMbIc byaad* by. Hit old grMidnM iiumI* Mob » (om 0T«r it wbM it Mught bar ay*, dMUring It bad Mv«r oon* from b«r aid* of tbo family Mid •11 dlob rabb sb, tbatooo wovld b«v« tbomgbt tbo av« he'a beard him bamme ing away at her bv the hour together, and aU beoauM ^e wiU My ■be'aat nome to that old figure. I wonder bow abe can find any pleuure in her com- pwjy.' ' Ellen told me tbat the mif treat wm all alone witb Mra. Chasemore when tbe baby WM bora.' * Ah I BO I've hMrd, and it's a mercy the didn't kill them both then, for I auppoM ahe WM drank MUHuaL' * DoM ahe often come here ? ' ' Two and three timea a week, and then yon can hear her voice a boUerin' loud enough to rouae the atreet. And, by the way, look here, Jane ! If ever ahe anould oome of an afternoon when the miatreaa ia out, and the lady'a maid ahouldn't be in the way, and von have to ahow her up to the boudoir, don't yon give her any liquor — mind that 1 ' ' But what am I to My if abe aaka for it ? ' ' Oh 1 tell the firat lie you can think of. Say the butler'a out, or the keya are loat, or anything. It'a aherry abe'a ao awMt upon ! She'll never drink anything elae, and Tho- mM Mya tbe way abe pega into it ia aome- fhiiuK awfnL' 'Do yon mean to My ahe really geta tipey?' ' BloM you, yM ; and when abe ia ao, abe doesn't care what abe Mya. I've aMn tbe miatreM in a perfect fright and a terror MmetimM bow to get her out of tbe houM again. And ahe talked ao loud, yon can bear bar up here.' ' What doM abe talk about ? ' 'AU manner of tbinga, but chiefly abuM of tbe maatar. Tbare'a no love loat b«tw««B tboM two, voa may take oatb of it Aad tbe other old lady'a uearly M bML liboold think tba miatreM mnat be drivan aearly wild batwMtt tbom.' 'She BMma Mif abe wm balf worried to dMtb witb MOMtbing or other. 1 abenlda't think ahe wm a happy wobmb, to look at her.' ' Between you a^d I, my dear, aba'a not, and that'a the Bible truth. I know abe geta very little aleep of nighta, and yon aoaroely ever aee her amile. ' ' DoMn't abe care foi tbe babv f ' No more than if ahe picked it up out oi! tbe atreeta. It makM my blood boil aoma- timea to aM how careleM ahe ia of it. It ian't, ao to apMk, a fine child, but I've aean many worae. and if a motber'a not to oare for a poor dear baby, who iaf ' Some women have no natural foelingm' obMrved Jane. ' Ah I abe haan't, though one would tbink abe'd be proud to have a little Mn, after waiting three yeara for it, too ; but, tberoi aome people never know when they're wall off, in mv opinion I' Jane laid tbe baby gently down upon ita bed, andJeft the room to look after her own work. But the next time abe met tbe lady'a* maid upon the ataira, abe informed her tbat ahe didn't care for going out heraelf, and tbat if ever Mn>« Roae wiahed io take an afternoon walk in tba abaence of her miatreaa, ahe would be very happy to undertake her dutiM for her. ' Ob, thanka I you're very kind, I'm aura,' replied Mra. Roae, who particularly liked walkini* with an amiable valet who lived not many doora away ; ' and I aball be only too glad to get a aniff of freab air in the park aometimea when my lady'a out dininfr.' CoP'^equently the new bonaamaid aoon found uvraelf enaconced in her miatraM'a drear.room duiiug the afternoona, ready to attend to any viaitora who might wiab to wait in tbe boudoir for Mra. Vivian Cbaaa* more'a return. But before abe bad bad tbe opportunity to receive any one, abe bad taken care to pro vide heraelf, inoaMof need, witb two bottlM of tbe bMt aberry. CHAPTER VIIL IMP * SHB LXAVKS ■NOLAITD THX DAT AJntM TO- HORBOW.' Vivian Cluuiemore had apent Cbriatnua in London that year, in hopM that, aa time went on, bia wife might become atronger and more fit for travelling . But aa tbe apring aet in bleak and atormy, and her weak atate of l'7»»"^"W*'f^^'- TBI BOOT Of ALL IVn^ stOlMiB Mtime Dger Mid >riogMt •tote of hMltb eoatinaad, b« daddwl to tko whoU f»vUy to Nioo with m Utilo d^y M poMibI*. Uo oMuo to «IJa rwolatkm nthar ■addtnlv, Aod mora on aooooat of tL« iof aat than bis mother. For the ostrmM oold did uot Mom to egroo with tho loo end hoir, end daring the leet few d**e he had beoome weaker end mora Uogaid then Mre. Fleming liked to eee him. She bed OTon eerried him to Reoine'e dreeeiog-room with e requeet thet Dr. Morton might be eent for to ezemine into hie condition. Now, for obvioue reecnne, Kegioe bed evoided thie gentlemen*! praaenoe ei maoh m poeeible ki'Aoe her return to England. She wee afraid of the Borntiny of hi* profeeaiooal eye, not knowing how much or how little he might be able tc gueee of her eeoret by merely looking at ber. She fanoied that on the few oocaaioni he bad visited the nareery, he had Slanoed enspioiously at herself, and she readed bis putting questiona whioh she might not be itble to answer. So that when Mrs. Fleming l\rst suggested sending for the dootor, she tried to avoid the neoessity for it, and said they had better wait a day or two and see if the child really required me«lioal attendance or not. ' Wait a day or two 1' echoed the nnne indignantly ; ' if you knew anything aboat babies, ma am, you would not talk like thai Why I an hour's too long to wait aometimes, with an infant of this age. Their lives are like the snuff of a candle— ont before yon can say Jack ^binson. The child's looking very weak, in my opinion, and shrivelled with this oold, and if yon won't send for the dootor, ma'am, I must ask the maater to do eo.' ' Why, you don't mean to say he'a really ill 1' exclaimed Regina, with a look of con- eternation that gained her mora of Mrs. Fioining's favour than she had ever enjoyed befora. ' For she did really seem aa if she oared for the poor little thing at that moment,' the nurse observed afterwards to her confidante Jane ; ' and it drew my heart out of her.' But the expression had only been caused by the sudden fear that the baby might die, and that if he did die, all her anxiety and auspense and sin would have been in vain. * Thero is nothing really the matter with him, ie thera ? ' she rapeated, aa she gazed into the nurse's faoe. * Well, ma'am, I don't want to frighten von I I won't go so far as to say the dear babv's downright ill, but he's ailing, and he don t set on as I should like to see bim, and if 1 told you otherwise I shouldn't be doing my duty by the child.' « ' Whatia tho matter T' demanded ViviM, who aotered the room at that moment. 'Oh, Vivian, Vivian.' oried lUgina. ovw paiwa ra d by the oombination of feelioge tha* aaaailad her, ' narse thinks that the baby k ill, and we ought to sand for Or. Morton 1 ' The way in whioh she laid her weary haad upon nia shoulder and wept aa aha anid the words, appeared to be joat what a yoang and anxious mother would do oader tha air< ovmetanoee. Her husband kissed her to re>aaaara hm fearr, but hie faoe became almoat aa white aa her own. * Is this tme t ' he asked, turning to tha nnrsa. ' Well, sir, the mietreae ia frightening herself beyond what ia needful, but theraii no doubt that the dear child doea nott. riva, and I should like to have Dr. Morton's opin- ion on him.' Vivian rang the bell fnrioosly. ' Send Thomaa at once to fetch Dr. Mor- ton. Say that the baby ia ill, and we mnal see bim immediately,' waa hie order, aa tha servant appearad to answer it. Than ha went up to the infant aad kissed its cheek softly. ' Dear little fellow,' he mnrmnrad. ' He does look thin and pinched. What do you think is the reason of it, Fleming ?' ' Well, sir, the dear child baa nevr realey thriven, so to speak. You see his mamma didn't nurse bim herself, and 1 think ha ought to have had a wet*nurse from tho beginning. And this cold is terrible againal him, too. He'll look very different when tha warm weather comee.' ' We will toke bim to Nice, if the dootor recommends it,' said Vivian, gravely. Than he turned to the sofa, across whioh his wife had thrown herself sobbing. 'Regina, deareat, try to controlyour feelings, i am BO afraid you will suffer for it. The dear baby 'snot leally ill — only a little ailing, and Morton will soon set him right again. ' Oh no, he won't He's going to die. I am sure of it, and it is all my fault, and yon will never love me again,' she ejaculated, almost beneath her bredth. ' Don't talk of such a thing I' said Vivian, ahndderiog. He had scarcely realised, till that moment, what the loas of this little infant would be to him. ' Now, ma'ma, pray don't toke on so, or you'll kill yourself as well as the child! And what will be the good of that ? ' interpoved the nurse pbiloeophicallv. But Begin* would listen co neither of them,as she rooked heraelf backward and forward and thought what would beoome of her if the baby i' yi I ! 'I fk ,<» THS BOOT OF ALL ITIU to die, And ftll heii' troabU would be WMted. Thedooto*'''! eatranoe put a stop to farther disouMion. He examined the piaohad faatarea of the infant, felt ite feeble little poise, pat a few inqatries to the narse as to Us digestion, and pronoanoed its ooaditiou to be wholly due to its being reared by hand. * Yoa mast get a good wet-nurse for it at ital this afternoon, and the little fellow will be all right in a week. Come, Mrs. Chasemure, you mustn't worry yourself about nothing ; there is no need of these tears. The baby only wants a little alteration of diet to be as strong as ever. ' ' I was thinking of taking them both to Niue antil the warm weatbur,' said Vivian. ' The best thing you can do; my. dear sir. provided you get a wet- aurse first. Give the ohild the breast and a warmer tem[)era- tare, and v/e shall sue him come back a perfect cherub 1 God morning I I will send you a woman this afcernoon.' and with many bows the fashionable doctor took his departure. ' It's just as well to try it,' thought Mrs. Fleming, as she carefully covered up her little charge and carried him upstairs ; ' but I don't like the look of the child's face, and I shan't be easy till it' i gone again. ' As soon as they were alone, Vivian ap- proached the couch and folded his wife iu his arins. Her apparent solicitude for the baby's health had caused him to believe himself mistaken in her feelings. ' You feel more comforted now, darling, den't yon V he said. ' Morton promises we shall have the wet nurse this afternoon, and I will make every preparation for our starts ing to Nice next week. Shall you be ready to go by then ?' ' Oh yea !' she answered languidly. ' It will do you good as well as tbe little one,for I have not liked your looks lately, Regina. vA' hv are yon so melancholy, my dear.and disinclined for tbe pursuittt iu which yon used to take so much pleasure ? You don't seem to cure for dressing or dining out •r anything now. ' * I feel so weak,' she said in a low voice. ' You must have refused at least a doaen invitations dsiring the last month, and seem jO care to see no one but that horrid Selina farthingale! Tt makes me very unhappy, liegina.' Blie was silent. ' Is there nothing I ean do, my wife, to bring back the smiles of which I used to be so proud ? If anything could make me regret eur baby's birth it would be to see how it has altered yon. Yoa are not th« aame giri I married. I do not know yoa in these tearful laogaid moods.' ' I am 10 aohappy, Vimn I ' 'fiat why, dear?' ' Yoa will never love me again I ' she said, aa she hid her faoe from him in the sofa* cushion. ' Oh, Regina 1 I have never oeased to lore yon 1 But yon never seemed to care about my love. You affected to despise any de« monstration of affection until I checked my own wishes in order to make mvself more agreeable to yon. And then, during that last miserable interview we had before I went to Norway, yeu told me so bitter a tmth it nearly broke my heart. How could you expect me, after that, to guess that yoa were unhappy for lack of love ? ' 'It was not the truth,' she whispered; ' ut least it is not now. I wish sometimes that you had never had any money. It haa beer, the curse of my life. I hate the very name of it.' ' No, no, dear 1 don't go so far as that,' said Vivian, cheerily. ' Money is a good enough thine in its way, but if you have lived to love me the better of the two, why, let us thank God for it, that's all.' But though he took her in his arms again and kissed her warmly, Regina's heart was not satisfied. There was something forced, tmth in hi8 manner and her own. She had blighted the fresh, warm love he had given her with the coarse asseveration she had made — it would never be the sane again : and between them lay the shadow of the awful lie which she had told she played upon his best fectious. And until this obstacle by a complete confession, love would never spring up in its former luxuriance, for no real love without the most entire oonfi* dence. The wet-nurse arrived a Doctor Morton had promised, and the infant having sub- missively agreeed to the change of plans, the fears of the household subsided, and no one except Mrs. Fleming anticipated any farther difficulty. But she, with feminine consist- ency, was rather inclined to be offended at her system of diet being exchanged for any other, although she had been the first to pro- pose it. ' It's just as well the poor innocent haa taken to her, as it is the doctors' wishes,' she grumbled to Jane, eenfidentially ; ' but as to every ene crying out that he's got a eolonr in his cheek already, and is quite a diffarent child, well, I can't see it that's all ! him — the trick and purest af- were removed she knew his for her again there ■ can be Tm Tin KOOT OF ALL KVIU 13S igain : >{ the trick 3Bt«{- hit again sanh* oonfi* it has Rihet,' 'but got » k«ite » IVs aU I And he itm wheezing terrihly in hie aleep le«t night, tee I I ooeldn't set a wink my* aelf for honn, and feel quite wore ont with it to-day.' ' This running eff to Nice ii a rery radden affair, and quite upsets everybody's pUne,' obeerTed Jane. ' So it doea I The mistreis meant to stay at home this afternoon, but the master's hurried her offafter something to do with the journey. She was up here just btifore she started, and left particular word that if any- body calls, Mrs. Rose is ^ say as she'll not be home till the eyening. I suppose sh« expects that old faggot Mrs. Ghasemore to turn up,and wants to get rid of her before the master and she comes back. But Mrs. Rose has gone out on particular business of her own.* ' Oh, I will take her duties for her a:..! see after Mrs. Chasemore,' cried Jane with alacrity. ' Well, if you ain't as good-natured a girl as ever I met with,' said Mrs. Fleming admiringly, as the housemaid left the room. Whether Jane employed the interval in pray- ing that the (General's widow ui^ht make her appearance that afternoon, it is impossible to say ; but if she di(cl so her prayers were answered, for about four o'clock an audible colloquy with Thomas in the hall was fol* lowed by his calling her name and informing her that Mrs. Oeneral Chasemore desired to wait in the mistress's boudoir until herreturn. It was not the first time by many that the old lady had called in Premier Street since Jane had been located there ; but on c9oh other occasion Regina had been at home and entor* taioed her visitor herself. Now, however, the opportunity she longed for had airrived, and she detormined to make the most of it. Am she stood at the head of the stairs wait- ing to receive the lady, she watohed her lirst lay hold of the handle of the dining room, as ^ough she were about to outer there. 'Tuat's the dining-room, if you please, ma'am,' observed 'i'humas. smiling. ' Oh yes, of course 1 i wish to wait for Mrs. Vivian in her boudoir.' Whereupon she grasped the handle of the drawing-room door, which came next in order. ' That's the drawing-room, if you please, ma'am,' interposed the footman, with a broad grin. ' Of course 1 I know that I I'm going to the boudoir.' responded Mrs. General Chase- mora, and immediately fell te wrestling wibh the door of the libraty, which compUbtsd the anito of rooms on the ground floor. ' That's the library, if you please, ma'am. again savgested Thomas, at he burst oat laughing behind her back. ' :::£'L:^ .- . >.^ * I know that as well as you, man I' re- j plied the lady testily, as she stumbled •gainst the lower steir. ' I have told yMii already that I am going up to Mra. Vivian'a boudoir.' * Uei e, Jane ; come down and help th« lady up to the boudoir,' said the servant, insolently— (servants will be insolent when their superiors degrade thcmselves)~and the housemaid delighted rather than dia« gusted at the mystified condition in which the general's widow appeared to be, fimiling down the steps to offer her i But Mis. Chasemore refused her suppbrt with the supreme haughtiness of a person who knows that she is not walking quit* straight. *I need no assistanoe of yours, young woman ' she said in a tone of oflenoe : 'I'm neither infirm nor ilL Go on in front and open the door of the boudoir for me ' The housemaid did as she was desirad, stirring up the tire to a cheerful blase, and wheeling an arm-chair in front of it for the accommodation of the visitor. ' Mrs. Vivian Chasemore will bo so disappointed, if she comes homo and finds you have gone, madam 1 ' she ob- served, as she removed the widow's fur oape and muff, and placed two or throe il- lustrated papers on the table beside her. ' She was talkiug of your ooming here all the morning. But Mr. Chasemore partiou* larly wi&hed her to choose some purchases this afternoon, and quite dragged her out with him against her will, or I am sure she would have been here to woloomo you.' » * Who are you, young woman ? ' demanded Mrs. Chasemore. 'I have never seen yon here before, and you speak much above your stotioninlife.' ' Well, madam," said lane, blushiz^ 'I have received the benefit of a good educa- tion, and see no harm in profiting by it. But I am only here for a short time, in the plaoe of my cousin, Ellen Withers, who has gone home for a holiday. Will you allow me to get you some tea, m^dam, or some coffee f * You seem to be a vei-y superior sort of voung woman, and I should think Mitt Vivian would be sorry to lose you again. I don't care about tea or coffee, my dear, th<)y don't agree with me ; but if you could get me a glass of sherry, I ehall be obliged to you. I have walked all the way from my house, and feel quite knocked up.' ' You sLaU iiave it in a minute. I'. ■'I m ,:i\ 1S4 THl ROOT OF ALL EYIL' •riad the obliging yoang woiuab, m she flew ■%0M Mm roon. In Another moment ihe returned, bearing • eovpleofglsMee nod • black bottle of *IamaoMrrytobeobliged to bring it to yon in thia rongh maoner,nadam I' ske aaid, with a winning smile ; ' hnt the faot ia^ the bntler ia out, and he is ao anspioioos of va poor a(>rTanta, that he won't leave the keya of the k^Tstry behind 1dm for a moment. Bat tUa ia thb rtry best ahernr, madam ; yon Bead not be in moat like a book.' * You're a very clever girl I' said Mrs. Ohaaeniore ; ' but you can't judge babies by older people— iMbiea alter every day.' ' Yea, madame. But I wish his mamma took more notioe of the dear little fellow. She'a a long tiire getting about, too. She aaya her illness is all due to her confinement, but I think that must be her fancy,' remark- ed Jane, with a aearohing glance at tha widow. ' Yea, yea, of oourae I She is f antaaticaU like all tiue women <^ the present day, 'repli- ed Mra. CtuMomore, aa ahe helped herself to a fonrtli glass of sherry. Aa it trickled down her throat ahe wi; >ked at the houae- maid, * It's idl fancy, my dex^r — all fancy I 1 waa present during her trouble, and ahe made nothing of it — ^poaitively noth- ing I' ' So I've heard,' said jane, demurely. ' What have you beard ?' aaked the other quickly. ' Only, madame, that the miatress doaen't look, to tilie doctor and nur8e,as if she'd gone through a bad time — ^in fact, they say they would never have known she had been con> lined at all, if she hadn't said so heraelf.' ' Ah I' ejaculated the widow, wagging her head oracularly and rolling her eyes. 'And what do you uay, Jane T* ' I say the same, madam,' waa the quf.et answer. 'But you won't betray her?' cried the creature, m her dmnken tcViy. * You won't go and tell anybody whfci. you've heard, will you, Jane ? because it would ruin poor Mra. Vivian, you know, and can do you no good t TBI ROOT OF ALL BVIL. Itf uiioii ouUd, fttth* Mn. ■ loot- m ih* oerred shonld listTflM to my w thao , of th« Ukeit* oh like would y didn't ass look ,m»dMiu aobilityf mcM sl- id Mrs. abiei by > • mamma ) fellow. lO. Sko [inemeiit» ' remark- at the itastioaU r,'repU- heraell triokled le house* fanoyl Bly noth- [the other doaen't |he'd (tone My they I been oon* traelf. zing her And |the qufet loried the Ton won't tenrd, will ■poor Mra. no goodt Too Me ft raepectftble, weUedaeated young woman, Jaos, and I'm sure you must know how io keep ft asoret, tank would never go and tell people that the child isn't her own, Just to nuke misohief, and be turned out of a good plaoe, when yon oould get a great dMU more for holding your tongue about it.' * Let me giro you a little more sherry, madam I* said the housemaid, as she poured out another glascfuL 'It has shaken my nerres to hear you say Jon have found out all about it,' remarked Irs. General Ohasemore, as she raised the l^ass with trembliuff hands to her lipa ; ' bs- cause peoptle will tell you, perhapa, that I had a hanit in it, and I had not indeed I I hap- pesed to be staying in the place at the time, and Mra Virian asked me to nuiae her ; and though i thought all the circamsitaaces very strange, it was not my part to chatter about it, and so I held my peace , bat it was very unkind •f Regina to mix me up with the afliur at slL' 'It is of no use denying it any loneer, madam,' said Jane, who hM now heardall that was necessary for her purpose ; ' for, to tell you the truth, the whole town knows it, and whose child it is that was provided for the purpose of keepins the barouet oat of his money in case of Mr. Vivian Chasemore's death.* Afi'i. Qiigril Giasemore was by this tim? so intoxicated, that it never ocourrod to her muddled brein to inquire how the housemaid had gained the information of her employers' private affahrs. 'Good Lord I' she moaned, in a puzatled and bMotted manner. *How am I to get olearofitaUr ' What I should recommend you to do, madam, is to make a clean breast of it at ouoe to Mr. Vivian Chasemore. He knows the whole story, bnt hedoe?* not suspect that you had any iMnd ikx deceiving him. If you ga straight to him anil say you have discover* ed the plot and think it your dnty to inform him of It, you can explain your own part in it as you see best.' ' Bat tell me,' cried^the widow,olateh:ag at the housemaid's arm, ' won't Regina have a word t6 say in the matter, and betray that I and Selina Farthingale made the parchase of tbs child between us V * If she does, you can but contradict her statement. Ton will be first in the field, and any thing she may say in her own de- fence will be put down ar invention. Let me entreat you, madam, for your own sake to lose no time in telling your stepson every- thinff. ' But Regina will be so aasry with me/ whined the widow, ' ' and so wiU Selina. They are both in the screpe, and I premised so faithfuUy not to telL' 'Then Mrs. Vivian will dre her own version of the story first, and lay all the blame of it upon vou. I assure y6u, madani, that her hosband is only waiting till he haa collected sufficient evloenoe to expose the whole affair. And it is rather a aeriiiwa business, remember ! I am not sure whether you could not be transported for life if they can prove you to have had an;' hand in pur- chasing the child in order to commit a felony on Sir Arthur.' 'Ob, dear I oh, dear ! what shaU I dot ' repeated Mrs. CHiksemore, weepiog hysteri> cally. 'I dare say I could make Yiviaa believe me, but then I should have to break off entirely with Regina. And I have not been half paid yet for all the trouble I took and the terrible risk I rao. I am sure if I have had fifty pounds from her, it's as muoh as ever I've recel/ed, and the Christmas billa come i:^o heavy, and I've furnished my house new on the expectations ebe held cut to me, and now to give it all up^it seems very hard.' ' Oh I if that is what causes your hesita- tion, madatu, I can very soon satisfy you on that score, lln. Vivian Chasemore has no intention of providing you with any more money.' ' Bat she must — she owes it to me I I will tell her story in the streets if she dares to refuse.' ' She would only say, madam, that you were f jad, even if she heard of it. But she wou) i not be likely to hear. She leaves Enriand the day after to-morrow.' CHAPTER IX. ' OH 1 VIVIAW, I DII* IT fO» XOVK SAsut i ' . ' Leaves Eagland 1 ' exclaimed the widow loudly, ' and w^ .hout a word to me 1 It a impossible I ' , Indeed, madam, it is quite possible I V. you like to step iato the drawins-room, I can show you the t' «^ dUing trunks ready packed. They zto gcios first to Nice fcr an indefinite period, and then to Italy and perhaps Spain. My own idea is that the mistress never intends to return to Eng- land again I ' ' Bat » hy ? ' gasped Mrs. more, ' when they have a like this and every comfort. . _^ . ' Because, in my humble opinion, madam, she wishes to shake you cff and have nothing more to say to voo She haa incurred a heavy debt of gratitud? to you, and she wants to shirk payrient: General Chase- beautiful house Why?' i];j 186 THE ROOT OF ALL JSVIU She is trying to get the maater to take her out of the ounntry antil the atory ■hall have blowa over, or where, if it ahovld •ver oome out. she may be able to make good her o*ra share ia it withoat any interfereaoe ^ your part ' Bat this is infamous I ' oried the widow excitedly, ' she has used me as a ladder to flimb to her ambition, and now that she haa Attained it, she would kick me over.' ' Juat so, madam ! your smile is a beautiful one, and states the case exactly. I have C'verheard her say as much when she waa alone. The master has began to inquire how she spent her money lately, and to ■ay he must look into her accounts , we servants hear a great deah of what fioe» of in a house, you know, madam, and I heard ker answer that she had given a lot away in oharity the last few months, but that she was determined to do so no more.' * In charity, indeed ! the impudent minx ! To dare to apply that term to her own hus- band's mother. And when my husband was • geanral too t and the one before that i^ colonel ! I declare to you, Jane, that I have never received half my due for all the trouble and anxiety I took on her behalf, corrying that horrid child all the way to Normandy in my arms, and every one wanting to see what I bad got in my bundle. I thought I should have thrown it overboard before we were half way there.' ' ' I can quite believe it, madam ; but as you were doubtless careful enough not to let Kit Masters guess your identity, there will be no difficulty in clearing yourself from blame in the eyes of Mr. Vivian.' ' Who is Kit Masters T' demanded the widow. ' He is the father of the baby, madam, and he has told everybody oi the whole trans- action. I believe that he will be here to- morrow to speak to the master himself About it.' ' Oh, Lord I why did I ever have anything to do with it ?' exclaimed Mis. Chasemore, whilst her watery eyes seemed starting from her head with alarm. ' It will be quite easy to clear yourself from blame, madam, if you will only take my advice and tell Mr. Chasemore that you oarae here to- day for the express purpose of informing him that when you nursed his wife, you were unaware that the infant was not her own, and that now that you have die- covered that you were made a party toafraud, you cannot rest till you undeceive him also. Hark ! there is the carriage ! I will go and fetch him up here, and yor can tell your tale at once. Don't tremble so I Take another glass of sherry. It will steady yo«r * But if Vivian fMks how I found it ouL what am I to say T' demanded the wretched woman, as she tossed down another bumper* ' Say that I told yon I' replied the house* maid firmly. * I know the mother of ths child and can make my own story good, and yours into the bargain.' She ran downstairs as she oonolnded, anxious only to bring the belluwrep.ts to- 8 ether before Mrs. General Chasemore's >utoh courage should evaporate. She found the party in the drawing-room* Mr. and Mrs. Vivian Chasemore, ana Miss Selina Farthingale, who had caught sight of them in Oxford Street and insisted ujpon entering the carriage, and they were just- inquiring of the footman if any one had call- ed during their absence. Jane went up straight to her master's side. ' Yes, sir, some one has called ancTis wait- ing to see you on most particular business in my mistress's boudoir.' ' To see me, Jane T' repeated Vivian with surprise. ' Who is it — a lady V , ' Yes, sir ! and please wiU you come directly, as she says her business will not wait.' ' How mysterious !' quoth Vivian,langhing as he walked leisurely up the stairs. Jane lingered behind one moment to ac- cost her mistress. ' You'd better come too, madam/ she said seriously, ' and bring Miss Farthingale with yon, for it's Mrs. Oeneral Chasemore, and she's nearly wLd with drink.' The pallor of death seemed to overspread Regina s beautiful features. » ' What on ea^th can she hava to say to Vivian ? ' she demanded of Selina Farthin- gale. ' I cannot tell you, madam/ said Jane^ an* swering the question ; ' but I wish y^ would be present at the interview, for she seems dead set against you, and detdares she is determined to tell tne master all your secrets.' ' Selina, for Heavei<'s sake oome and stofi h^r tongue I The woman must have gone mad ! ' exclaimed Regina, as she followed Vivian up the stairs. TL^y all reached the boudoir together, just as he was about to open the door. Mriu Oeneral Chasemore was seated in her chair with her arms lolling on the table, and her large eyes fixed upon the entrance. She was very much excited by the wine she had taken, but the shock of believing her fraud to be discovered, and herself in actual dan- ger, had so far cleared her brain that she Wr THE BOOT OF ALL BVIL. 191 yomt itohed jhpcr* tionM* oftha d, Mid laded, to to. imore'a '•room» { MiM 1 upon adoall- DMtor'a \b wut> tineMin iMiwiih a com* wiU not laughing ii to M- ihoMdd •le with iore, and enpread ) aay to Farthin- for afie ahe your nd atof kve gontt ffollowad ether, ,-- M"* Ler chair land her ice. She the had let fraud Inal dan* Ithatihe waa quite oi^pable of relating her atory with coherence and determination. ' You here I ' exclaimed Vivian, aa hia eye 1*11 upon the figure of hia atopmother. ' I thougnt I had Men auffioiently frank with you to prerent any further meeting between ' Oh, Vivian 1 you have been very cruel wad unjust to me, I know that ; but you are your poor father'a own ion, and I cannot •tand by and aee you deceived without raia- iag mv voic* to tell you aa' ' Wnat folly is thia T ' he demanded an- grily. ' Mra. Ohaaemore,' interposed Regina, with ^mbline lips, 'had you not better come into the dr*8Bing«room with Selina and me ? f ou and Vivian never got on well together, 7*n know I ' ' Don't go,' whispered the housemaid, ' she only wanta to prevent j our speaking, and to ruinyou I' ' No, I won't go ! ' repeated the widow aloud. ' I must speak — I won't be ruined I I never knew, Vivian, when I attended your wife in her illness, that the child was not her own. I thought, of course, every- thing was right ; but now that I am told — who am I to say told me ?' she asked in a loud voice aside of Jane, who stood behind her. But before the girl could answer, Begina had sprung like a wild c«t at Mrs. Cfeneral Chasemore. ' You are mad I * ahe said. ' You don't Know what you are talking about — you've lieen drinking. Vivian, don°t let her speak I Cannot you see that she is the worse for liquor? It's infamous— it's dissraoeful Why should creatures of this sort be allow- *d to enter the housen of decent people ? ' ' If this woman is here with the permis- (rfon of any one, you know it is not with mine,' said Vivian, sternly ; 'but since she i* here, Begina, I shall not refuse her the ordinary coorteay due to a visitor. Go on,' he continued, turning to his stepmother, ^and let me hear all you have to say.' ' No, no, ne 1 ' screamed his wife, losing eontrol of herseli ' She shall not speak—I willkiUherfiratl' S'Beaina, for Heaven's sake command uraeul' interposed Selina. 'You will tray everything by such conduct.' ' Oh, of course they will try and stop my tongue, because they are both in the plot ; Imt they shall not prevent my telling what I h«ve heard. Vivian, that child is not your ownl' ' What ! ' he cried vehemently. ' You needn't look like that. I mean that it'a not yours, nor hers either. It's the child of « poor person that they've palmed upon you. ' said Vivian, In a very leant againat th* wall for 'Merciful Ood low voice, aa h* ■uppori * You wicked eld woman I ' aoroamed Selina. ' It'a every bit a lie, and yon need not auppose that Mr. Chasemore will b* such a fool as to believe yuu.' ' A lie I Why you bousht the child your^ self in Drury Lane, and paid a hundred- pounds for it I ' * I never did I I never saw the child, nor Regina, either, till six weeks after its birth^ so I could have had no hand in it.' ' Oh, yon false hussy I If I hadn't proof* against you, do you think I should be here ? But I've found out all your wickedness, and' Regina's too, and that's why I cannot hold my tongue any longer 1 ' ' I thnusht you were present at the birth of the child,' said Vivian, in a voice still low with horror. ' So she was I she wrote and told you so herself. She is only saying this now because she wants to make a quarrel between us, Vivian,' sobbed his wife. But he took no notice of her. ' It is a mistake,' continu' fortunate chUd. How long will it tkke yot todofo?' ' Not an hour, Mr. Chaaemore I I will take a cab and bring her back with me ai once I * Will you be good enough to do so, and let me know when she is heiti ? Until then I have no wish to be disturbed. But tha sooner thia shameful business is completed,, and my house cleansed from the stain of da> ceit that rests upon it, the better.' .THK ROOT Ol'^LL SyiL. lt» win meai th«B t th« leted^ of d*- 80 Mjing, 1m walked into hii own drtM* iiig>rooin Mid lookod the door behind him. The fonr Women left in the boudoir looked nt eeoh other for ttie first time. * Well, roiie. end n nice part you're pley* ed in tliie little gnme,' obierred Selina S'tefnUy, m ihe met the eyee of Jenet Momore. ' Whet you think or do not think of my conduot, Mile Farthingele, ie of no moment to me , but I ihall be obliged if you will •ddreee me by my title in the future. It ui not neuel in eooiety to call married women ' I don't know who ^yon may hare been, irighed Regina, *bnt I think you hare done a moat oruel and unjust thins, Lady Chase* more. And until you reaily prodnoe the proofs you spoke of, I for one will not allow the ohiid to oe thrust from my house as an im* poster.' ' I don't think yon will have the option of ohoice, Mrs. Vivian,' returned Janet, 'for its mother will not let it remain here for an hour after she has seen it. Bat I must leave you now to amuse yourselves as best yon may till my return. I see the old lady is more than half asleep, so I can trust her with safety to the meroy of your tongues. I am quite aw%re that she liei all round ; but self* preeervation is the grst instinct of nature, and inculpating herself would not have saved you. It has beisn an awkward business from beginning to end, Mrs. Vivian, and next time you attempt to carry out sn intrigue I should advise you to be more careful in your ohoice of confederates. " An revoir." ' And, with a light-hearted nod, Lady Ohasemore left them to their own reflections, and whispered dread of what penafty they might be called upon to pay, now that their crime had been discovered. As she emerged upon the landing she was caught hold of by Mrs. Fleming; ' Oh lor, Jane I where is the mistress ? The dear baby's awful b» fMt up-etaire I ' * Thie 1 ' he repented, wonderinffly. ' Bon- nie I My God, wee it not enoai^n to wrong me ee they have done, without making me the unoooaoiona injarer uf tiiie poor innooent flrlf '^ Bonnie wee looking vagnelv from one to the other, unable to underetand the import of "ViTian's apeeoh, when Dr. Morton oame keetily down the nnnery.etaira. 'Mr. Ohaeemore, I reerettotell yon that 4he iufant i« very seriouelT ilL I chink yon had better oome and lee it. And would it not be ae well to bring your wife with you ? She might reproach ue afterwards for not bavins let her know.' ' All right, Morton t I will do wttat ie neoeeaary. Takeher up-ataira,' heoontinuedto Janet, pointing to where Bonnie, with dilated eyea, was listening to the doctor's statement. ' Is that my baby ? ' gasped the girl } ' ie he dying ? ' ' Oh ) I hope not. Come with me, Belton, Mad let us se<* ' said Janet, aa they followed in the wak ror. Then Bonnie perceived that ibe was child* leMi,and ipmng to her feet,olaaping the little body to her bMom. 'Are von the woman that robbed mef nhe cried fiercely to Regina. ' Is it yon who Sersnaded that cmel man to sell his own esh and blood ? Oh I Mr. Waverley.' she continued pathetically to Vivian, 'tell me yon had no hand in this matter ; yon wouldn't have wronged me, after all the years that we have spent together ?' * Inaeed, dear Bonnie, I would not ! I never knew nor heard of this foul transac- tion till to*day. I have been wronsed, poor child, almost as much as yourself, for I was taucht to believe that poor little one belongea to me, and I loved it dearly — dearly !' * I am glad you loved it,' sho answered in a low voice. ' I am glad, since I was te lose my baby, that it came to yon . I knuw you have been kind and good to it — as you was to me— but oh t Mr. Waverley, 'tis very hard to find it only to lose it again. ' ' We all know that, Belton,' interposed Lady Chaaemore, ' and we feel for you in your disappointment ; but even this is bet* terthan the uncertainty you laboured under before.' ' Yes, miss, perhaps it is i but I can't find it in my heart to forgive them as committed such a cruel robbery upon me I' She resigned the little body inta the hands of Mrs. Fleming as she spoke, and let her arms drop languiuy by ber side. Dr. Morton had taken up his hat and left the house, since there was nothing more te detain him tiiere ; aac. the servants, g~ Try- ing the true state of a Fairs from the convmr- sation they had overl aard, weie very cem- passienate in their manner te Bonnie. ' Let me take him, dear ! ' whispered tkd nurse into her ear. ' He's been tended like a price all his lifetime, and he shall be laid «>irt and buried like a prince — and that I'm sure the master will promise you.' ' I never knew the child belonged te you !' a%id R«gina, fizinit her seared eyes upon the stranger. ' Perhaps not, ma'am ; b«t yoo know ywm were labbong aome poor mother of her righta. And what dM you do it for ? What's the food of children anless they're our own? Just for the sake of dressing him up in rib* bona and laoea like a toy, you've broke my haart,replied Bonnie, sobbing. * I've nearly broken my own heart, too, ' she answered. * Do yon want to oompare your grief to^ minat'^eried the bereaved mother; ' DiA yon carry him In your boeom for months amid sium trouble as you've never dreamed o^and thought iiot^in' of kicks nor euffs, foa the sake of tke little one that was oomin' ; and then after you'd brought it into the world, and gone through that dreadful p^in and suflFerin', and was ready .to forget it all for the joy of the baby, to have it stole away from yonr side and sold like a slave to strangers ? Have you ever had a child yourself?' continued Bonnie, startling Begina with the unexpected question. ' No 1' she faltered. 'I thought not There no mother's heart in vour bosom, or you'd never have done Much a wickedneee. There is only one thing I'm thankful for— that he never lived long enoaah to call you by the name you've got BO risht to ! It's better to think of him in his coffin than to live to see that 1' 'Oh, Vivian i can you hear every one turn against me, and not give me one word of comfort ?' cried the wretched Regina. ' Don't appeal to me 1' he answered coldly. ' My only doubt is whether I shall be justi- fied in not prosecuting you openly for this fraud, left 1 should M suspected of having had a hand in it. Don't speak to me or look at me ] You have iafiicted a more grievous wound upon my heart than you vrill ever have it in your power to heal.' ' Oh, merciful God, have pity en me T moaned the poor girl, as she cast herself upon the benrotr* of tho ohild ii cArriod oul with Iho- owo M tbongh he were wh«t he haa ■apposed to be — my son. Poor litt e one 1 •oontinued VivUn, m he stooped to kiss the ■urMe foreheed of the deed infent ; ' I oonld not hare loved you more had you been minel' Then he turned on his heel uid left the room without Another word. i He u gone I ' cried Regin« ; ' and he will never return egain I Oh, Vivian I Oh, my husband 1 I love him so I I wish I hid been dead before I attempted tode* oaive him I' At these words, uttered in a tone of despair, the sweet pitiful heirt of Bonnie was stirred to walked up to the bed, fully by Regina's side. * Poor Udv I I don't think yon meant to hurt me/ 'Indeed, indeed, I didn't 1 flow oould I tell the ohild was yours t And they told me the man was so ready to part with it 1 I thought it was doing him a kindness.' ' I have seen your face before : onoe in Bond Street, when you spoke gently to me: and onoe when you were married to hii£u Don't cry so terribly I 'He will be sure to oome baok asain.' 'Oh no, he wont. This is the second time I have driven him from me, and I know it will be the last. But it will kill me I I cannot live without him I ' ' You shall not. I will follow and send him back to you.' ' You 1 How oan you persuade Vivian ■against his will t' ' You call him by another name than what I knew him as ; but I am Bonnie, whom he knew BO well and was so kind to for four jrears, and I am sure that he will let me ■epeak tohim.' She walked up to her dead baby and kissed it just where Vivian had left the impress of his lipa. * Good-bye 1' she whispered, with sobbing breath ; ' good-bye t I am glad he loved 20U 1 We sliall meet him agam, by-and-by, i heaven.' Then she turned to leave the room. ' Belton, where are you going V demanded Lady Ghasemora. ' Baok to Clarence Lodge, miss ; but I havA a little business to do Urat. No, don't come with me. I would rather be alone.' When she had reached the landing she retracted her stops, and again approached Segina's bed. 'I forgive you, poor lady 1' she murmured. with trembling lip«. ' I am sure that you was kind to him, aid I forgive yon.' Then they heard her faltering feet deeoend the staircase, and they were left alone with the dead child and their own thonghte. ' Of oonrse the news ef the baby's death and the discoverv involved in it reaohed the cars of L%dv William Nettleehip, in some miraculous manner, almost as soon as they had occurred, and brought her to Premiw Street the next morning, eager after a dish of scandal The old woman resembled the eagle only in one particular — that where the carrion carcase lay, there would she gather with her particular friends to discuss it in all its bearings. Regina, having been left abne by every- body (Lady Ohasemore, even, having taken her departure to the arms of her lord and master), had passed a miserable night, full of fear and horrible conjecture, and was still lying languidly in her bed, when, to her dismay- her mother was ushered into her presence. Then she knew what she might expect, and felt all her sorrow change to desperation, like a wild animal driven to bay. ' Dear me, Regina,' exclaimed Lady Wil* liam, looking like a bird of evil omen as she sat by the bedside shaking her paralvtio head at her daughter. ' I am shocked to hear from Thomas that the poor child's really gone, though if what people are saying is true, it is just as wellperhaps that it should be out of the way. What m this dreadful story 1 hear about his not being your child at all ? I came over expressly to ask you. My housemaid met your ooolc last evening, and she was full of it Of course it's untrue, but it's very unpleasant. How on earth did it get about? Vivian must have it contra^ dieted at once.' Regina trembled with agitation. She knew it would be useless to attempt to deceive Lady William on a point which sooner or later must be public property, and therefore she determined to brave out and carry it off with a high hand. ' Vivian will not take any trouble in the matter.' she reolied, with affected careless- ness, ' and for the very good reason that the story is perfectly true. The ohild was not mioe. 1 adopted it 1' 'Not yours 1' screamed her mother in a shrill f idsetto. ' Do you mean to tell me that the whole account of your being confined at that outlandiah place in Normandy, and nearly dying except for the assistance of that horrid oreature the dowager, was a myth ! Why, it that be the case, you and ^?°'»> .»•»«». I don't odl n«n-, i TH« BOOT OF ALL ITli, ->^Hi«^ nuiininill dan'* «.ii 100 W«JL' —.»'"•"«• MBf ,".t*«" •-.'". put .uoh I mor.r '"'"••' Mi tJSa ChC 'NolhinK better 1 B»t , _ . k!' W w'".,.^'°J «"»n«ar«>« ft J^^'^"»™i•«tt«F„^'^^°''•'•l»l''• — ^,uul i don't denv it i j «.. * •* I WMM.pt pupil, «,d TBI ROOT Of ALL lYIL- iMBd oal U * fool. Bat I didn't giv* voa ortdit for Moh an •ztrtma of folly m ikia. Yoa had bottor riog th« bdl for Mr. OhMomoro. H« u tha propor poraon to dry yonr tMurs. I ■hould ooiy bo MooMd •I nvpoorisy if 1 Attemptod to do ax' 'H« i* not hare. Ha haa laft ma, and in all probability I ahall navar aaa him •fain,' aaid Kagina. ' .4a haa found oat that ife waa my onraad ambition that lad ma lo marry him, and ha will oot baliava now that my fabo haart ia oapabla of aaoh a thinii aa lova.' ' flow ^•rj romantio i ' anaarad Lady William. ' Bat it raally ahooka ma to haar foa awaar ao. If thaaa are the morala of ramiaro Straat, I raally think that the •ottnar 1 ratarn to my "demi>rep" frianda Iha batter. Thay, at all eTenta, aaa not in the habit of uaing oatha to anforoa thair nrgamanta.' * Oh, go, uo, cried Ragina paaaionataly. 'Every word yon aay ia a freah aggrava- tion to ma. 1 will not anawer for myaalf if yoa remain here longer.' Ami au Ladv William ahuffled out of her danghter'a bad-room and want down to the lower fluor, where she summoned the aer- Tabts in turn, and having axtraoted all the details of the aoandal from their lips pro- 0*>aiied to make a tour of the houses of her moat intimate friends to retail what ahe had heard to them. And meanwhile her unhappy daughter lay on her pillow with her faoe downwards, w erring that the eircumstauces of the oaae ahonld oeme to his knowledge their own way. He was therefore, ^uite unprepared for seeinp; the baronet enter the office with a lady on bis arm. ' Oud bleas my soul, Miss Oppenhaim ! This is very unexpected indeed I' ha said fnasily, as he set chairs fer his visitors. ' The lady haa changed her name. Mr. Farthingale. Allow me to introduce you to Lady Chaaemora.' The little lawyer atared in mute aatoniah* mont. ' Your wife. Sir Arthur ? ' he stammered atlasi ' My wife, Mr. Farthingale, as fast as the law can make bar. And tharafora yoa wU' not ba aarpriaad that wa hnva ooma heia thia morning on baainaaa. Aa Lady Chaaa- mora'a hnaband, I am antitlod to aak you how aoon yoa intend to aattlo «p tha aflaira of bar lata aont, Mra. Mathar.' 'I raally don't ondaratand yon, Sir Arthur ; I baliava thara ia a liMla aomatliing due to Misa Oppen— I mean Lady Chaaanwra —and whan I hava time to look into tha matter, I will let yoa hare an ofBoial atnta> mant bat — * ' Yoa moat ba good anongh to maka tin j, Mr. Farthingale and I fanoy whan yoa oo regularly to work yon will find that tna " little aomathing " ia m6ra thnn yoa ima* gina. Here is a letter from Lady Chaaa* mora'a ancle in Bombay, in which ha stataa that hia aiatar laft variona aama of money, chiefly in railway acrip, amonnting in all ta some aistaen or aightaan thonaand poanda, and that th#t papera muat neaeaaarily ba in the t. 'nda of her aoliciter,' 'Thia '« moat extraordinary,' aaid Mr. Farthingale, wing very rod. ' Who ia this Bombay wiala ? ! noTer heard of him before.' 'Perhaps not, Mr. Farthingale,' interpoaad the ailvery tonea of Lady Ohaaamora. ' My aant fhad quarrelled with him for many years, and never mentioned hia name ; but I knew it, and finding yon were aa very long in settling her affairs, I wrote and aaked hia advice aa to what I had batter do.' ' Why did yon not apply to me. Lady Chaaemore ? You know that ever ainoe tha death of your lamented aunt, I have only been too anxiona to land yon OTory aaaistanoa in my j;K>wer,' aaid the lawyer, with mnch oonfuaion. •^'Ohl of eonraa I know yo« wwe Terr good in procuring me an nnder-teachara place at Clarence Lodge, and promiaing, if poasible, to sare a little money for me out of the wreck of poor auntie'a fortune, bnti hare been waiting fox it three yeara, Mr. Farthin- gale, and ao both I and Sir Arthur think it is about time we were provided with a state- ment on the matter. ' ' What xorip ia in your posaeeaion belong- ing to Lady Chaaeracra ?' demanded tha baronet atemly. ' I ha^e no intention of leaving this nmo* until I know, Mr. Farthin- gale.' * Oh I really. Sir Arthur, I hope yon won't be hard on me. 1 have had so much bnai- neaa of importance on my hands lately, that I have had time to thiuktof nothing elaa. This scrip had to ba aold ant and collected, Sir Arthur, for I never imagined that Misa Oppen — I mean Lady Chaaemore — would eoutiuue to tr6uble herself with shares ; and are jroo wil' eomt h«it Mdj OhsM* to Mk you you, Sir laoiiMlliiiig rChMwuoN k into libt Boi«l stoto. make tin j, h«n yoa so id that tM THE ROOT OF ALL ETIL 141 I Toa loui* Miy ChaM- ih no itatM of monayi K in all to ad poandi, larily ba in Mid Mr. 'Who is haard of 'intorpoaed ore. ' My for many ame ; bat I » Tery long 1 aaked hia me, Lady r since the hare only assistance th maob riire rery ■teaoher'a lising, if I me out of mtl hare Farthin- think it 1 a stato- belong- Ided the ptiea ef (Farthin* Won't Ich bnsi- Uy. that Ing else. ^Ueoted, %t Miss would s : and b ever, if you wish it ' ' Call yourolerlc io at oaee, sir, and let ua see Mn. Mather's will' The lawyer, trembling with agitation, was compelled tu produce the document m ques* tion, which waa spread out upop the table and carefully examined. ' Why, her J is a matter of sixteen thoas< and pouuds, producing au income of eight hunared per anoum, invested in six com* panics, the scrip of which is in your posses* sion. What hava you to say for yourself, Mr. Farthingale, for having kept silence on this subieot for three years T ' 'indeed, bir Arthur, I had nothing but Miss Oppen — Lady Ohasemore's interests at heart ia delaying the selling out of these a a*es. The times 1 ave been very hard, acd ane wouM have lost a considerable sum of money on them.' ' Aud her income T ' ' Oh, the income is all right ! ' replied Mr. Farthingale, with a forced attempt at some merriment. ' 1 felt myself in the position of this dear lady's father, you know, Sir Arthur, and exterted thn parental privilege of laying by a nest*egg agaiust her marriage — which I shall be > >»t truly happy to make over into the hand of sc worthy a recipient as Sir Arthur Chasemore.' ' Very considerate of you, I am sure. You will be good enough, then, to pay the sum of two thousand four hundred pouuwLer«,' in » tone which made him remark saucily that it wasn't the line for flanwell. Bnt when she explained to him that she '»Ely wished to speak to some one on tbe plcvlorm, he gave ber a third- class for Portland Road, and let her go in peace. She toro down tbe steps like a mad oreatnre, and on tirst enterins the station, thought she was too late. But it was only the pitchy darkness — tbe clouds of steam— the noise of arriving and departing trains, and the hoarse announcements of the porters, tiiat had confused her. Vivian ap* psrwtly hvi not yet made up his mind where tp go, for presently her eyes discerned him in the further comer of the platforin, gazing moodily at some advfirtisements, and in another moment she wiiiS at bis side. 'Mr. Waverley,' she said, pluckiqg his sleeve to attract his attention. ' Mir, Waver* l«y,^ oh pray speak to me.' Tbe gaze that met h«rs was ftill of astou* ishment, * Bonnie, my poor child ! what made yoo follow me here T What do yOn wtmt of me ?' ' Oh, Mr. Waverley, pi^y come home 1' ' I have no home, child. 'Home is a place where there is love and cbntidence, and mutual respect. I have long ceased to look for them in my house, and I never mean to return to it.' ' Oh, don't say that. sir. I was very bad once, when Kit took my poor baby from me, and I went and thro wed myself right into the river ; but th^ gentlemen at tbe hospital showed me bow wrong I had been, and made me promise never to do it any more. You w(m't do Any thing of that sort, willyou, Mr. Waverley ?' ' No, no. Bonuie. Men have a different method of drowning their grief. And so you suffered, poor girl, ^veli to thtf point of desperation, and never l^t me know ? How wiss that ? Did yon think I had ceased to' be your friend because you had lost sight of lue f ' Oh no, sir ; but poor grandmother (she died last year, Mr. Waverley) used allay^ to tell me tliat a grief that can t be cured must be endured. And who conld have cured mine? , Onlv I ought tc have budored it more patiently. And then I knew you were married, sir^ — — ' with a little tfeihble in her voice — ' and I thought you had forgot all about such poor folks as gtkudtnother and me.' ..'Indeed, iionnie, you vte mistaken, al- though I deserve the reproach ! I h*TO never foraotten you, nor the days I parsed in those little rooms in Dmry Lane; and I bavn often wished 1 was theiti again, for I have not been very happy since 1 left them. Qod forgive me for not having found you out sooner, and learned all that was happeninff to yout I might have prevented this foul business altogether had I done so.' * Don't speak of that again, Mr. Waverley. sir! Don't let it fret y oh. I know you feel for me, loosing my poor baby,bttt no one's so much to blame for it as ^it. It was his wickedness from beginning to end, and I don't think your lady m^nt to bafm me, Mr. Waverley, nor yet yourself, when you come to look at it in that light' * Didn't mean to harm me, Bonnie ! Why, how could she have harmed me more than by res dieceroed lie platform, lemeote, and ii> side, pluckipg his Mt. Waver. tdl of astou- it made yoo KTimtof me?' le' home 1' me is a place tidence, and ased to look )ver mean to ras very bad .by from me, f rinht into the hospital , beeu, aiid t any more. )rt, will you, I a different ef. And so o thD point me know ? bink I had ise yon had mother (she led allay^ to cnred must have cured tsndored it iwyoa were mble in her I forgot all other and jstaken, al- I hure II p«Sse PArtad them. VVl... -. ^ ~~ »'»reir Mm off hk iw,:** •>»•■ of hit I *«• j»»w of *!-.«? o ■? ^ongrilj. WitK I R: ' •' fcr 1^ o' iti^^:!^'«^o'^lSS "fir •' Joroe bt^riof ditSttS'iT?'? Wm Wth . d3* "'W, d^wMny »« *. S,*';^te. " • ""towl r?,.^k ".i^H." """* J^k, ««, g; , And ViviMk!!|?S "•^ body. *° ^V®'' wftile tirtie iLS^^ir*"' •^•'' yriH be ~w j(iri lud Bhoim ber I Takurik, «■. /<■-. i&ii' ■-'JUi. f ,1'. ft •*- 'J(.. "•nrtr the i, open. i,«*^?^Wch had "••••velJed tofiud I;?**?' cried . •anJyjMbefow. "drop of soine. ''oMy,teiidto. « till the doctor'* " opened, il Jwerealmort jMteet «mUe «red lipa. I-himr *he •^•r Tin t>e nnieVi ^th neinPrehjier knight hare