his flock; so that she dreaded the exposure and reproof that awaited her, whilst the idea of the indignation of Uncle Philpots and the wrath of old Mr Halloway was terrific. But Uncle Philpots being quieted, and the promise of marriage reiterated to him, her mind was pretty well at ease for the present; especially as, whenever she interrogated Vincent regarding the progress of affairs, he always appeased her by the assurance that his father' was coming round, but that they must not hurry him, as he was naturally a good deal disappointed at his son's making such a match;' and when Uncle Philpots wrote to inquire how matters were going, threatening not to wait much longer, this was the answer given him by the simple mother, who added that in poor Bessy's present state it would be cruel to make a rumpus; and she therefore begged him to do nothing hastily— only to give the young man time, and she hoped all would be right.

And yet Elizabeth Mure, simple as she was, had her own doubts and fears too; but gentle and timid, she dreaded the consequences of applying to Vincent's father, and preferred waiting in hopes all might come right without proceeding to such extremities. But there was one thing that would not wait, that could not be deferred—and that was the birth of Bessy's child. Time was advancing, and Uncle Philpots threatening to break out again if Vincent Halloway delayed longer to fulfil his promise. He wrote him a letter to that effect, enclosing it in one to his sister, bidding her deliver it herself, 'because he was afraid that little fool Bessy wouldn't have pluck enough to do it.' Bessy did deliver it, however, at her mother's request; and Vincent, with ill-concealed vexation, entreated her to keep her uncle quiet for a little while longer.

'Tell him. I'm doing all I can! He seems to think it's an easy matter to persuade my father to do a thing he don't like! Tell him that if he stirs in the business now, he'll spoil all. And I'll tell you what, Bessy, we should have a much better chance by and by, after this business of yours is over. Tell your uncle so, Bessy; it would never do for my father to see you now. It would set him against you, and when once he's set against anybody, there's no bringing him round do what one will. One might as well try to move Exeter Cathedral. If you could only persuade your uncle to wait till this business is over!' And Bessy, who was frightened to death at 'that dreadful old Mr Halloway,' willingly promised what was asked; and even her mother consented to aid her, from an apprehension that if anything occurred to cause Bessy much agitation and distress just now the consequences might be serious.

Joss was not very easily convinced; his suspicions were beginning to be awakened, or rather to gain strength, for he had never been free from them. He believed, as he told his wife, 'that that young jackanapes was trying to slip through their fingers; but he little knew who he had to deal with. If he, Joss Philpots, followed him from the Land's End to John o'Groats, he should marry his niece, or he'd know the reason why.'

Nevertheless, being a tender-hearted soul at bottom, he yielded so far to the entreaties of his niece and her mother as to postpone the decided steps he meant to take till poor Bessy's confinement was over. He even did more; and at the instigation of Mrs Philpots, who, although she had spoken tauntingly to Bessy, was not a bad woman at heart, he invited her to come and stay with them, where she could have more comforts than in her

mother's small cottage, as also be removed from the eye of Vincent's father. And to the great relief of the young man, Bessy went, leaving him to the joys of love and the fascinations of Emily Halkelt; and good use he made of his time, for desperation gave him courage. Shy and unused to society as he had hitherto been, his courtship would probably have advanced much more slowly had not the agonising apprehension of losing Emily and being forced to marry Bessy pushed him on. Knowing little of the world and nothing of law, he was ignorant how far the latter could reach him; but he felt acutely that he was not sufficiently emancipated from his father's authority to hope to resist it if they came to a contest; whilst the idea of Emily's becoming acquainted with the affair of Bessy Mure filled him with dismay, since he did not doubt that she would instantly banish him her presence for ever.

'But,' thought he, 'if I were once married to my darling Emily, they could do nothing to me then but make me maintain Bessy's child, which I'll do with all my heart. They can't unmarry me again; and if Emily should hear of it after she is my wife, why she can't help herself, and she'll be obliged to forgive me.'

To hasten on his marriage, therefore, was the object to which he devoted all his skill and energy; and inspired by the violence of his love, he exerted a great deal more of both than his acquaintance would have given him credit for. But having little influence at home, it was not directly, but indirectly, through Emily and her influence over her father, that he endeavoured to gain his point; not only by urging his love and impatience to call her his, but also by working on her fears. It happened that his mother, who had shewn herself his best friend during his courtship, was at this time extremely unwell, and threatened with a malady that might ultimately prove fatal.

'And if my mother dies before we're married,' said he to Emily, 'Heaven knows when we shall be: perhaps never! My father's so strange in his temper, and so arbitrary that, but for her, I doubt whether he would even have permitted our intimacy to go this length. If my mother dies, he won't choose me to leave him; and even if he did consent to our marriage, he would make it a condition that we should live with him; and I am sure, Emily, you would not like that. For my part, I had rather relinquish you altogether, though I broke my heart afterwards, than take you to a home where I know you'd be miserable, and where I am sure I should be so too.'

And Emily, who was in love, and very willing to be married, and who, from Vincent's description, entertained a horror of the rigorous rule and dull uniformity of old Jacob's ménage, fell into his views, and gave him her best support in the siege he laid to Mr Halkelt's fond paternal heart, who, in conjunction with Vincent's mother, undertook to attack and overcome Jacob-an enterprise which, but for the temporary revolution wrought in him by political excitement, no man or woman would have ventured to attempt. But the cause of Reform was advancing favourably; the Reformers were gaining such signal victories over their adversaries, that the gloomy spirit of the old Puritan rejoiced, and his close heart opened to more kindly influences. Neither was he insensible to the entreaties of his faithful Rachel, who, under the apprehension that she should not live long,

was extremely anxious to see her son married and removed from a discipline, the rigour of which she saw was odious to him, and more likely to terminate in strife and rebellion than in harmony and submission. So, thus beset, and taken in a genial hour, Jacob Halloway consented to his son's marriage with his friend Halkelt's daughter, and that an early day should be appointed for the celebration of the wedding.

And now, but for one fell thought, one terrible fear that tugged at his heartstrings evermore, who would have been so happy as Vincent? No longer condemned to his father's dull hearth, almost every hour was spent under the roof of his bride-elect, where Mr Halkelt considerately appropriated a chamber to his service, that he might not be obliged to return to West Green at night. The mornings were passed in long walks and sweet discourse; and the evenings in cheerful little parties, where Emily shone the fairest of the fair.

As for Bessy, she was still absent; and all he knew about her was, that she was the mother of a boy.

It was just three days previous to the one appointed for the wedding that Mrs Mure beckoned to him, as he rode past her door on his way to Taunton, to tell him that she had just had a letter from her daughter Bessy, who was coming home immediately. Vincent said he would call soon to see her, and rode on; but this intelligence filled him with alarm, and not without reason, for he knew that she had not been expected so soon; and he apprehended that in spite of all his precautions the news of his approaching marriage might have reached her or her uncle, and that they were coming to put in their protest, and claim his promise.

The progress of his courtship had been so rapid that he had hoped to outrun rumour—the more especially as beyond Emily's friends, who were quite unconnected with the humble neighbourhood of West Green, he had kept his engagement a profound secret from everybody but his parents, who, in compliance with his request, as well as their own reserved habits, he knew would communicate it to no one.

There was one person, however, who had penetrated the secret—and that was his old confidant Joe Jebb. Joe, who was something of a veterinary surgeon as well as a blacksmith, having been summoned to the vicarage to inspect one of the clerical horses, there fell in with a groom of Sir Walter Lidgate's, who had ridden over with a letter, and was lounging about the stables whilst waiting for the answer. The man having been when a lad in the service of the vicar, was well enough known to Joe, though they had not met for some time. They naturally fell into conversation about former days and old acquaintance, in the course of which the groom made some allusion to Vincent Halloway's approaching marriage with Miss Halkelt. Now Joe was a good deal surprised at this intelligence, and rather displeased than otherwise. Not that he cared anything about Bessy or her misfortunes, but he felt a twinge of envy at Vincent's good luck, of which he thought him the less deserving that he had been for some time past in the gradual process of dropping the young blacksmith's acquaintance; and the reason for his so doing was now plainVincent was getting up in the world, and Joe was not genteel enough for him. And Joe was perfectly correct in his conclusions. But for the father's ill-judged restrictions the intimacy would probably have never

arisen, for Vincent, could he have selected his acquaintances, would certainly not have chosen Joe; but young people are apt to prefer bad company to none, and Vincent was glad to fly to any resource that made a diversion in the dull uniformity of his home life. Joe Jebb could be no fit society for the fair Emily, and the sooner he could be shaken off the better.

Very shortly after Joe acquired this information Bessy Mure received an anonymous epistle, which in her first transport of surprise and indignation she was about to rush down stairs to shew to her uncle; but it so happened that when she reached the bar where he usually enjoyed his grog and meditations, she found nobody there but her aunt. Joss was out, and knowing that Mrs Philpots's indignation would first find vent in reproaches heaped upon herself, she forbore to mention the subject. This accident

gave her time for reflection. Bessy was a simple, uneducated girl, but she wanted neither common sense nor good feeling; and she began to question the prudence of so hastily rousing the slumbering lion of Uncle Philpots's wrath, the more especially as she had no certainty of the correctness of the information the letter conveyed. It occurred to her that it would be better to see Vincent first, and hear what he had to say before she raised the storm; and with this view she wrote to her mother, announcing her immediate return, and by the same post forwarded a few lines to her faithless lover, which she addressed to the silkmercer's, with whose shop she was well acquainted.

Joss made no objection to her departure: on the contrary, he thought it high time she went to look after her slippery swain, to whom he sent a message, to the effect that if he was not shortly invited to the wedding, he should pay a visit to West Green without an invitation.

So Bessy departed; and in order to spare her the disgrace of appearing at home with an infant in her arms, Mrs Philpots undertook the charge of it till, as a married woman, she could claim it.

IV.

When Mrs Mure stopped Vincent to communicate the news of Bessy's return he was trotting gaily through the village on his way to his bride. He had been two days at home for the purpose of making some final arrangements with his father, and was anticipating with a lover's delight the reunion with Emily, and the pleasures he expected to enjoy amongst a party of young people who were to meet at Mr Halkelt's that eveningpleasures, the freshness of which were not yet dashed by satiety, whilst their flavour was heightened by long abstinence, and by the peculiar circumstances under which they were first presented to him, for they came handin-hand with an ardent and well-placed affection. But the few words spoken by Elizabeth lowered his tone in a moment. The blood no longer bounded through his veins, his heart sunk, his limbs grew heavy, and the features that had been lighted up with joy a minute before were overspread with blank dismay. The very horse he rode seemed to participate in the sudden depression: the brisk trot slackened, and the head that had been tossing in proud impatience drooped as he jogged sluggishly on.

Emily had been watching her lover from the window fully an hour before he arrived; and when she saw him, after putting up his horse at the Castle, walk with a slack pace and his eyes fixed upon the ground to her father's door, she too felt a momentary sinking of the heart-a presentiment that he was the herald of some evil tidings.

'Is anything the matter, dearest Vincent?' she said, meeting him at the door of the drawing-room, and flinging her fair arms about his neck.

No, darling; why should you think so?' answered he; but her eyes were peering inquisitively into his face, and his could not meet them.

'I know there is something, Vincent, for all you can say. You cannot conceal anything from me.'

'You'll make me think myself very ill presently,' said he with the slightest possible shade of temper. You know there's a great deal in fancy. I believe I am weary of talking of business matters with my father. I assure you a conversation with my father is not the most enlivening thing in the world.'

Emily saw she bored him with her questionings, and turned the subject. 'Probably,' she thought, 'his father has not behaved so liberally as he expected about money, and he is vexed, poor fellow! How needlessly, if it's on my account!'

'By the by, dear Vincent, I've got a letter for you—a love-letter, I'm certain by the writing; and I assure you I've been quite jealous. Let me see, where did I put it?'

'What letter?' inquired Vincent.

'A love-letter, I tell you! The postman left it below in the shop.' 'How came the postman to leave my letters here?' asked Vincent with the ready alarm of an uneasy conscience.

'Because it was directed here,' answered Emily, opening her work-box. Oh, here it is! Pray what lady do you correspond with at Wellington, sir?' she asked, examining the post-mark.

เ

Nobody; it must be a mistake,' said Vincent, turning pale. Give it

me!'

'I've a great mind not,' she answered, for I know it's a love-letter, because it's stamped with thimble, and has three large kisses on it in red sealing-wax!'

'Nonsense, Emily.'

'The address is charming,' said she, reading it, and does great credit to the lady of your choice:

'Pooh! it's some begging-letter, or some of my father's labourers wanting a place,' said Vincent, snatching the letter from her and thrusting it into his pocket unopened. 'Come and play me a tune, Emily!'

She looked at him for a moment with grave surprise, and then moved to the pianoforte. His confusion, his paleness, his haste to put the letter out of sight, had converted into certainty what had been but the faintest suspicion. The letter was evidently that of a woman, but it had occa