brazen-faced hussy! But if Smith likes to amuse himself with her, what is it to me? Of course, he would not marry her."

"George, you are putting me out of all patience. If there be one thing more detestable than another, it is the kind of conduct of which you speak so lightly. While a man amuses himself, as you call it, a woman's heart is broken, and her fair fame aspersed."

"Women should not be such confounded simpletons. Every little pretty speech you make they take in sober earnest; and as to their characters, they are in their own keeping. Don't look so horrified, Criff! I know what you are driving at you are thinking about Rachel Meacham. Pitch into me if you like, but don't preach, and let us have it over."

"George, do you know that the poor girl is dying?" George started, and the colour forsook his cheek.

"Who says so?" he asked, as he hastily tossed off a glass of wine.

“I am afraid the doctors say so; I know her mother says so, and Ermengarde thinks it is the truth."

“Now, look here, Christopher: people have said hard things of Rachel and of me, but I swear there is no cause for them. I made love to her in old times, I know; and if she had been a lady I might have married her. But I never sought to do her harm."

"If I thought you had I should not now be sitting here. I hold that the same measure of opprobrium should be dealt out to the sinful man as to the sinful woman. God is no respecter of persons."

“ "Ah, well! I suppose we should all get hard measure enough if we had our deserts. But I dare say Rachel will get well, and marry Hugh Bonser, and be happy. Though I say I might have married her had she not been ineligible, I don't know-I admired her beauty, and her gentle ways pleased me, but I never really cared for her."

"Why on earth, then, did you give her the Dieppe cross?

Why did you seek her again after your marriage? She had given you up, as a duty; only, when once more you sought her out, and said you must be friends, the temptation was too strong for her-poor, simple child!"

"I couldn't bear to think she was vexed; I like to be on good terms with everybody."

Which, indeed, was the truth, and the secret of many of George's errors.

CHAPTER XL.

POOR HUGH!

"WELL, Mrs. Meacham, and how is she this afternoon?" asked Hugh Bonser, as he came into the bar, hot and dusty with his walk.

"She is better decidedly, Hugh. I begin to have hopes of her now. She has looked quite like her old self to-day; she smiled this morning when I took her in the books you sent, and seemed so pleased! A little bit ago she would not have cared to touch them; she cared for nothing, poor dear! But I do think she is beginning to brighten up a little; and please God, she will be a strong and happy woman yet. Have a glass of wine, Hugh?"

"Thank you, no, Mrs. Meacham, you know I never drink it; but I shall be glad of a cup of tea presently. It is the hottest afternoon we have had this summer."

"You shall have your tea with Rachel if you like—that is, with Rachel and me. I have turned No. 9 into a little sitting room for her. It tired her so coming down stairs, and No. 9 is quiet, and out of the way of all the other rooms: she likes it, too."

"I shall be delighted to take tea with you, and to spend the evening, if I may. Oh, Mrs. Meacham! you know what

CC

I want to say? Do you think Rachel would listen to me now? At any rate, I should like her to know that my love is the real thing; that I am faithful still, and will wait as long as she pleases, if only I may hope to win her for my own at last."

“Bless you, Hugh! you are a good fellow; and if I had the ordering of it she would have given you her promise months ago, as soon as ever she left school. I know such a pretty girl must have beaux, and I knew partly, though not half, how Mr. George came philandering after her; and I wanted her to be engaged to some good, honest man, who would make her a kind husband; and I saw how you watched every step she took, and listened to every word she said, and I hoped it would be you. I wished no better sonin-law, and that Sam knows, for I have told him so a dozen times; and, as for Sam himself, I need not tell you how he wished it! But that was in the old time, Hugh, before all this trouble came-before folks cast it up to my poor girl that she was over-intimate with Mr. Trevanion! I would have given you my Rachel at her best, but I can't offer her to you now that the worst has come upon her.”

"No, not the worst, Mrs. Meacham; the worst would be if she were not innocent, as I know she is. She is innocent of all, but—but just two or three things, that look worse than they really are. Her mind is as pure as a baby's. She loved that man fondly; and was it in the nature of a girl not to love him when he came looking so handsome, and whispering such tender things in her ears, and showing her all kinds of delicate attentions? Any way, her heart was gone to him before she knew it, and she trusted him, poor girl. If she had been a bad, scheming girl, she might have been all she was said to be, and yet have held up her head and looked everybody in the face; but she had no guile in her. She had no more idea of an intrigue than I of a state conspiracy. Not but what there was some wrong; it was wrong in her to hide anything from you; it was wrong in her to take that ivory cross, about which there has been

such a babble; and still more wrong was it to walk in the meadows with Mr. George, knowing that of course Mrs. Trevanion would not like it. But, there! don't we all do wrong sometimes, Mrs. Meacham? Is a young person's life to be blighted because at the outset he or she makes a mistake? Thank the Lord, He is not so hard upon us as we are upon each other. We point at the sinner, and turn our virtuous looks away, and walk on the other side of the street, lest perchance our shadows should intermingle. The Lord says, 'Go and sin no more;' and He watches the poor wanderer, and, when he is tired of eating the fruit of his own ways, He softens his heart, and shows him how great is his folly, and how great the loving-kindness of his heavenly Father and just at the right moment, and no sooner, He says, 'Come unto me, and I will give you rest.' Well, Mrs. Meacham, the long and the short of it is, that I love Rachel as much as ever I did. I know her to be pure and good, in spite of all that is said; and if you will give her to me, and if she will come to me, I am ready to make her my wife as soon as ever she is strong enough to get to church. And then, when I am her lawful husband, let them that keep evil tongues in their heads take care what they say. I can't punish them when they belie Rachel Meacham, but if they dare to slander Rachel Bonser, I'll make them remember it. But they won't let her be once my wife, and the tide will turn, and when it does turn you know it goes all one way."

"Hugh! you have my permission to speak to her as soon as you like; and what's more, you have my blessing and my prayers for your success. But mind! I can't answer for Rachel. As things are, I should not like to bias her, though she knows right well which way my wishes turn." "Thank you, Mrs. Meacham-you cannot say more ; and I know Sam is on my side."

"I should think he is, indeed! If he has a friend in the world that he really hearkens to, and respects, it's you! I have heard him say, often, that if he had half a score of

sisters, he should like you to have your choice and get the prettiest and the best!"

among them,

"Wait a bit! I'll go and tell her you are here, and that we are both going to drink tea with her; and then Betsy shall carry up the tray, and you shall go in too. And after tea I'll slip away, and leave you to say what you want. Please God, you will come down to me and say, 'It's all settled, mother!' for I shall be your mother, you see, if you take my Rachel."

"And a better mother I would not wish to have, Mrs. Meacham! I only hope I may have the right to call you by that name before I leave your house to-night. Let me put these lilies in water, please; they are drooping sadly."

"What are they-water-lilies?"

"Yes; I know Rachel is so fond of them-the white ones, not the yellow ones, that the boys call 'brandy cans.' But look how they have shut up! I suppose they will open again in the water."

"I don't know, I am sure. Won't you take a walk in the garden, while I go to Rachel? and perhaps you will see if there are any strawberries fit for gathering. I got some nice ones yesterday from that patch beyond the rhubarb-bed; and I think there must be some more May Queens ripe. Any way, I know you may pick two or three Victorias, and Rachel will like them."

Hugh Bonser went and gathered a pretty large leaf-full of fruit; and when he came back into the house, tea was carried up to No. 9, and Mrs. Meacham said that Rachel would be glad to see him.

With a beating heart the young man went upstairs. It was weeks since he had seen Rachel, for she had been very ill with a sort of low or nervous fever; and she had been kept very quiet, and allowed to receive no visitors save Miss Liebrecht, who came nearly every day, and for whose coming the invalid always looked most anxiously. But now every