liked. Now I will put you to the test. If, when I tell him you are swayed both ways, he decides to give you up, you will remain with me.'

There was a silence in the room -only the crackling of the wood fire that burnt on the hearth in the deep old-fashioned fireplace.

'Do you hear, my child?' 'Yes, grandpapa; and the words were scarcely audible.

So they sat on until nearly seven o'clock, and no sign of James Carlyon. Aimé's heart began to sink. If he did not come to-night!

But just as she had sunk into despair there was a loud barking of dogs, and she rose, flushed and expectant, to her feet.

'I told you, grandpapa, he would come !'

'And you're right, of course,' said Sir Walter snappishly. "But there, go out into the hall and see if it is he or his ghost.'

Aimé was out in a moment, and had opened the hall-door herself, the snow beating on her as she did so, and almost blinding her.

Through the thick flakes that fell she could see the form that she would have singled out in a crowd, with head bent down, and battling with the wind and snow.

Another minute, and he stood in the warm hall, looking like a picture of Father Christmas, beard and greatcoat covered with snow; and Aimé's arms were wreathed round his neck, spite of snow and wet, before he had time to take his hat off.

spite of his gout, and shook his guest's hand with a warmth that augured well.

'I never heard of such a feat! And our Cumberland storms are no joke, Carlyon. Upon my word, you deserve to win in any race.'

They were alone, and Aimé had weepingly told her lover how she was situated. It was what he had dreaded; and as she left the decision to him, there was no alternative. He must give her up, or at the best wait for her. He was too generous and noble to doubt her love for himself: this was the one gleam of light in the cloud; but it was like death to abide by his decision.

'So, so,' said Sir Walter, that is what you have resolved upon.'

'There is no other alternative left us. Were you unkind to Aimé, and she were unhappy, I should not hesitate; but-but-and James Carlyon tried to smile-'You have not exactly supplanted me, Sir Walter, but have become my rival, by the claims you are entitled to, and I withdraw mine.'

Sir Walter's eyes twinkled. 'And you will not take my child from me?'

'No. She would be unhappy were I to do so.'

'You are quite sure?'

'Quite. Do you think, Sir Walter, that I do not know every thought of her heart by this time?'

'Well, then, Carlyon, look here. If you will not take my child from me, suppose you come and live here?'

James Carlyon started.

'Don't you understand? I am an old man, and the place would be intolerable without her now. Get married to-night if you like -I daresay the puss is ready-and come and live at Burnlees. Send

for your mother too if she will

come.'

'Do you really mean it, Sir Walter?' and James Carlyon's face was a sight worth seeing.

'Go and tell Aimé what I have said. She knows I never say what I don't mean.'

Need I say James Carlyon went at once?

An hour later Sir Walter summoned the good vicar of Burnlees, and in the little chapel that had not been used since Sir Walter's own marriage the ceremony was performed. Mr. James Carlyon had his licence still in his pocket; and for the satisfaction of my lady readers, I must inform them that Aimé was married in the wedding-dress that had been prepared for her when she was at Miss Johnstone's.

That good old soul was on a visit to Burnlees now, and acted the part of bridesmaid. The first and last time in her life.

The snow had left off falling, and the storm was over. The moon

peered through the sky, that was relieved of its clouds, and lit up the white earth below; whilst the sound of bells came on the hushed air as they rang in the great festive morn, and Aimé's choir of boys sang lustily the sweet song that came in with the birth of the Son of Man, 'Peace on earth, goodwill towards men.'

Sir Walter listened in his room, whilst below James Carlyon and Aimé stood alone in the oriel window, her head resting against his broad shoulder, his strong arm encircling her slight form as they listened to the carol singers.

'It is thirteen years to-night, sweetheart, since I first held you in my arms. Little did I dream what a treasure I had found that Christmas-eve! My snow treasure! my snow wifie!' he exclaimed, with infinite tenderness.

'Take care I do not melt away, Jamie.'

'No; my love shall surround you like a wall of steel, darling! Nothing but death could take you from me now.'

ONLY A FACE,'.

URSULA marked a look of sharp terror cross Ralph Pierce's features as the archfiend John Lock left the room.

'What can all this mean?' she cried, in a loud impatient tone, going up to her father and seizing his ice-cold hands firmly in her own. 'The child Nell told me that that man had been threatening you, and that you had been pleading to him so earnestly that she could not help hearing you as she passed our door. You looked terribly white and frightened when I came in. You look frightened now, father. Tell me what terrible secret you and John Lock have between you.'

The girl's flushed face wore determination on every line, and her huge black eyes flashed out indignation as she mentioned John Lock's name. Pierce shrank back, growing, if possible, paler than before; and he seemed almost to cower before his daughter's keen curious gaze.

'No secret at all,' he stammered out; 'and-and even if there was one, you will marry that man and end all !'

VOL. XXI.

she

'I'll never marry him cried, with a stamp of her foot. 'He wants it, I know, and I have let him say many things which were trash, mere nonsense, and should never have been spoken. Father'-Ursula's manner changed completely, her hard look grew soft and pleading, almost humid, and, releasing her grasp of him, she laid her hand affectionately on his shoulder 'tell me the whole, whole truth, and I shall be better able to help you out of your trouble-for you have a trouble; I can read it in your poor pale face, your great haggard eyes. I am weary of all this mystery, and sick of myself.'

'Sick of yourself! That is a terrible sickness; one never recovers from it in this world,' said Pierce drearily.

Ursula put both her arms round his neck and laid her cheek lovingly against his; so lovingly that it brought large glittering drops into the old man's eyes.

'You'll trust me, father, won't you?' she coaxed. 'For I love you dearly, indeed I do, though Tell me, you may not think it.

GG

what is the power John Lock has over you?'

She knelt down before him, and looked up imploringly, as she used to do years back wher. she wanted some childish toy.

Ralph Pierce shaded his eyes from her gaze, but she caught his

hand and held it.

'Tell me, tell me!' she begged. 'Tell you what, child?'

'Why is it you are so troubled, so restless when Mr. Lock comes here ?'

'Because his presence tortures me. He is an enemy, a bitter, bitter enemy, and I distrust him.'

'Then why do you not forbid his coming?'

'Because I-because-God help me! I dare not.'

'Dare not! Father, look at me! Don't turn away your head, but look at me straight, as an honest man should do. Father- she stopped, her red lips trembled, she drew her breath hard.

'Well?'

'Have you committed a crime that you-'

'Ursula, stop! I will not be questioned thus!'

Pierce rose up abruptly, seized his hat, and was out of the house before the girl could recover her astonishment.

She was quivering with fears that her imagination had conjured up, and with wrath as well at the summary treatment dealt her by her father. She threw herself on the sofa, and, bowing her head down on the tattered old cushion, she gave way to a flood of tears.

Those tears were partly for Bernard Keane, for since his departure she had bitterly repented of her resolution not to accompany him, and she felt as though she hated John Lock for being the cause of all her loneliness and selfreproach. Sympathy for her father's manifest misery had enlisted her

better feelings in his behalf, and she was both ready and willing to make any sacrifice that might restore him to even comparative tranquillity. Some day, she made up her mind, she would persuade him to go with her from this evil Liverpool-go where new and happier lives might be opened to them; and she persuaded herself at last that, if she had in any way encouraged John Lock, it had been merely from a suspicion that in some way Pierce was in his power.

After thinking over all the miserable perplexity of the situation with more honesty and goodness of purpose than usually directed her ruminations, Ursula was seized with a sudden desire for fresh air. She had left some trifling work to be finished at the little dressmaker's, and, indifferent as to the direction she should take, she turned her steps towards that way. When she came in sight of the poor lodging-house she was surprised to see her father enter it as though he were familiar with the place.

Astonished, angry, though hardly knowing why, she followed him quickly into the passage and up to the top of the stairs.

The door of the room was ajar, and a murmur of voices came from within. Ralph Pierce was speaking, and his tones were gentle and sweet. They were tones that Ursula never listened to at home.

She drew softly to the entrance, and, looking in, saw her dressmaker on a low settee, her arms folded on Ralph Pierce's knee, her lovely face lifted up to him with a yearning affection that gave it the look of one of Raphael's Madonnas.

Ursula stood transfixed a moment in dumb but bitter surprise; then she turned and left the house as noiselessly as she had entered it.

She was pacing the floor, pale and very wrath, and so impatient