anxious, and tremulous as she had never beginning, he thought, to feel half a been before. Her interest in him, instead of being checked, was doubled. This was what his unkindness had done.

When he came into the room first he took no notice of her. He went and poked the fire, and then he examined the table, and rang the bell for his hot coffee. Then only he said, "Good morning, Innocent." He did not hold out his hand. | Sometimes he would stroke her hair, or pat her head, or give her some token of affectionateness. To-day he did not even hold out his hand. "What are you doing?" was his next question, for it was odd to see her doing anything. She made haste to answer, heaping up the moss with such tremulous fingers that it fell down again in a mass.

"I am doing this for Nelly." "That is right," he said, more cheerfully. Never mind what nonsense you do so long as you make it up with them. I told you the other day you would never get on till you learned to make friends of your own sex."

Innocent made no answer. What could she say? A general observation like this was like Latin and Greek to her. She looked at him, and that was all. By this time Brownlow had brought in the coffee, and he had begun to eat his breakfast. It is a comfortable sort of thing to do on a chilly spring morning, with a pleasant fire on one side of you, and sunshine and crocuses on the other, looking in through the window. This mollified Frederick in spite of himself.

woman, to understand that she must not say and do everything that came into her head, with the freedom permitted to himself, for instance. "I was going to speak to you very seriously," he went on, "but as you are trying to make friends with the others, and to do better, I will not worry you. What I said is for your good, Innocent - which is not to be obtained by your usual way of doing what pleases yourself, but by yielding to others and trying to be content with what is thought good for you. This may be hard - (N. B. Frederick certainly had never tried)but it is the only way for a girl to get on. You must manage somehow to make friends of your own sex."

Frederick dwelt upon this aphorism with some pride. He felt that it was original, and did him credit, and its wisdom gratified him. On the whole he was pleased with himself while he delivered his little address. Instead of taking advantage of the girl's fondness for him, as some men might have done, he was doing his utmost to lead her in the paths of virtue. Whether she or any one else appreciated it, he at least did. He was so far softened by the sense of his own goodness, that when he had finished breakfast, he put his hand kindly upon her shoulder while he said "Good morning," and finding her face near his and turned towards him, kissed her for the first time with much benevolence of feeling. Innocent's face grew suddenly red under this salute. She was not angry, "That was a very foolish business of she was not pleased - she did not know yours last night," he said, but in a softer how to receive it; but a sudden flush of tone; "you must not do such things. I colour answered to the light and somedaresay it is dull for you here. You don't what careless touch. Frederick himself enter into their life, and there is nothing went off half laughing, half confused. of your own to interest you. But still He said to himself that the girl was growyou know girls have to put up with that. | ing into a woman, that she had developed It may be hard, but still they have to do it. I suppose when you are married it is expected that you should have it made up to you. At least this is the ordinary state of affairs; girls have to put up with it. I cannot take you to my club, you know, or to the other places-where I go."

"I did not want you to take me," said Innocent, surprised.

"I am glad to hear it," said Frederick. He did not believe her any more than the maids did. He smiled a little within himself at the idea that she was yielding to a conviction of the necessity for pretence. He was half amused by this, and rather more flattered than before. She must be

very quickly since he had brought her home. "I must mind what I am about," he said to himself. Perhaps, on the whole, in giving this kiss, he had gone just a very little too far. And Frederick felt that there was a deep responsibility upon him. He must not delude his cousin with hopes that never could be realized.

With this feeling in his mind he went off to the office, a little wondering and alarmed lest the story of his wonderful encounter last night in the street should have already reached it. But nobody showed any signs of knowing this curious incident, and though Frederick was slightly defiant and ready to stand on his defence at the slightest provocation, no such

provocation was offered him. I do not harm than was involved in the sight of know how it is that when something dis- him. Then he did what he could to preagreeable is about to happen to us, we pare himself for the meeting. He butso often have this preparation of looking toned his coat, and took his hat and cane for something else, perhaps equally dis- by way of showing that he was about to agreeable, which does not come. Fred- leave the office, and had little time for erick was quite prepared to be assailed colloquy. He tried to make up his mind about the mysterious female figure which in desperate haste what to say about the he had rescued from the midst of the money, and he tried at the same time, crowd, and which he had driven off with, the one attempt mingling with the other, without a word of explanation, under the and confusing it, to make up some story very eyes of his astonished friend. He for home, to elicit a few more of those looked out a little nervously for every most necessary banknotes. It is dreadnew-comer who entered the place, fancy- ful to think how many well-looking, faulting that his last night's companion would lessly-dressed young gentlemen in the appear. No one came, however, until public service like Frederick Eastwood, about three o'clock, just before the hour looking self-possessed enough for any for leaving, on the verge as it were of secu- emergency, and superior enough to crush rity. He was just beginning to tell him- into insignificance the greater part of self that all was safe, that his perils were their fellow-creatures, should be secretly over for the day, and that a joke of this occupied in making up hasty and clumsy kind could not survive twenty-four hours, inventions like this, to stave off the paywhen the porter brought him the card of ing of money, or to coax it out of wella visitor, who awaited him downstairs. guarded pockets. Frederick walked along Frederick took it unsuspicious, for at that the passage as slowly as he could towards moment he feared only Egerton, his Jones's room. Wretched little Innocent! friend of last night. For a moment he It was all her fault that he had been segazed in wonder, which rapidly turned duced into this expenditure, and put in into consternation, at the card. This this man's power. Frederick rememwas the inscription upon it: bered vividly how objectionable the man's loud voice and coarse geniality had been to him when, with a bad headache and a sinking heart, he sat and studied

Mr. R. R. R. Batty,

The Villa, Sterborne.

66

Bradshaw," and counted out his last The name of a second-rate hotel in francs in the Paris hotel. What must he London was written in pencil across the seem now, when he no longer had it in card. Frederick held it in his hand and his power to be of use, and appeared gazed at it, feeling his features stiffen as only in the guise of a creditor, always an if it had been the Gorgon herself whose odious character to appear in? Fredcountenance he was contemplating. Ierick walked into the room at last with am afraid, that having heard nothing of something of the feelings which must Mr. Batty for some weeks, he had forgot- move the poor wretch who marches to ten the benevolent stranger who had in- his execution. Could he have followed terposed to save him when he was almost his own will, ropes would not have suiin extremity. Mrs. Eastwood had pre-ficed to drag him whither his reluctant sented her son with a bank-note or two feet now paced with that appearance of by way of paying the expenses of that voluntary motion which is often such a illness of his, which had detained him miserable pretence. To how many places compulsorily in Parts, and put him, no do we go thus, pretending to do it of our doubt, to a great deal of extra expense; own free will to balls and dinner parbut as there was not sufficient to pay ties, and other festive meetings, to our Batty, and Batty did not ask for pay-own marriage sometimes, to every kind ment, Frederick had disposed of these very comfortably in other ways.

Shall I show the gentleman up?" said the porter, while the young man gazed horror-stricken at the card.

66

Show him into Mr. Jones's room," said Frederick, with an effort. Jones was absent on leave, and his room was a safe place, where a disagreeable visitor might be encountered without any more

of act in which we are heaven help us!

free agents, as the jargon goes. Frederick's feelings were doubtless exagger ated, for, after all, he owed this man not much over fifty pounds. But then the man could tell things of him which he fondly hoped were known to no one in his own sphere-as if there was anything in any man's life of a disagreeable or disgraceful kind which was not known!

“It do, to be sure," said Batty. "But Mr. Frederick, if you'll give me the privilege of calling you so-which comes nat-purpose, and which his friends were conural, seeing I have been among Eastwoods all my life-I ain't come here prying about the money. I'm above such mean tricks. When I can be of service to a gentleman I'm proud, and so long as I'm used honourable, and treated like a friend, hang me if I'd dun any man. It ain't the money, sir, but feeling that has brought me here."

the days had grown longer, and Freder-large tears dropped down her cheeks, as ick's return was now generally in daylight.

"I wanted to say to you, Innocent, that you must give up this habit of watching for me," he said. 'No doubt it is very kind of you. I did not mind it so much when you were quite a stranger, and of course knew me best-and when the nights were darker you were not so much noticed at the window. But now you must recollect it is quite light, and a great girl like you is remarked. People will say unkind things about you. They will say, for instance, that you are fond of me.'

"I am fond of you," she said, with the tears in her eyes.

she went silently along the walk by his
side. She put up her hand furtively to
dash them away. She turned her head
from him that he might not see them.
Was it the same Frederick who had
kissed her before he went out, who had
always been good to her, except last
night? But she could not say anything
either in defence or submission.
was too deeply and cruelly disappointed
to have any power of speech left.

She

"You won't give in?" said Frederick. "You are just like all women. You will never allow you are in the wrong. When I come home, fretted and vexed from the world," continued the young man, taking a high tone, "and hoping to have a little repose and comfort at home, you begin to worry me from the first moment you catch sight of me. I declare it is hard; a man who has always tried to do his duty at home-and instead of finding it a refuge from the troubles of life

"That is all very well," said Frederick, "but we must not go too far. Don't let me see you there again. Girls ought to know these things without being told. You are a great girl, almost grown up: and you know the others now almost as well as you know me. I should have told This speech was perfectly unintelligiyou this in the morning, but I forgot. Al- ble to Innocent. She looked up at him together, Innocent, there must be a with vague surprise, being quite unaware, change. I had thought your own sense poor child, of the troubles of life from would teach you and I thought that which Frederick escaped with the hope what I said this morning But you of finding comfort at home. He had falcompel me to speak plainly," said Fred- len without thinking into the ordinary erick, seeing the face of his mother look- and conventional manner in which maning out from the drawing-room, and feel- hood indignant addresses its womankind. ing inspired by the thought that he would He pulled himself up suddenly with a himself be called to question for this in-"Pshaw!" of disgust, which could only terview with Innocent. He was deter- be addressed to himself. mined, however, at whatever risk to "put a stop to this sort of thing." And the annoyance to which he had himself been subjected gave him strength and courage. It seems only right that we should have compensation, and afflict others when trouble has come to ourselves.

Innocent made no answer. She walked silently by his side, overcome by the bitterness of this sudden onslaught when she had expected quite the reverse. Poor child, her earliest training was all emotional; the severest kind of mental discipline. When he made her a sign to come out to him, she had thought he meant to be kinder, more affectionate than usual, more like what he used to be when he travelled with her, and cared for her in everything. How quickly, how gladly she had rushed out, leaving the door open behind her, as Brownlow remembered long afterwards. And to find that all her pleasant expectations were to end in a new and utterly unprovoked accés of scolding! She tried hard not to cry, her pride being hurt at last, but the

"I mean you must put a stop to all this nonsense," he said, abruptly. "Make yourself happy somehow. Do as other people do. Don't sit and mope in a corner and gaze at me, and don't watch for me any more at that window. If you do, I shall be horribly vexed. There now, rua in and think no more of it. I don't mean to be cross; but you must remember, Innocent," he concluded with great emphasis, "you must remember that what you have got to do is to please, not yourself, but me."

Innocent received this first lesson in the female necessity of self-renunciation in silence, taking it in with her eyes as well as her ears. She kept looking at him, in the dulness of her perception, wondering if there was something more to follow; but nothing followed. Then she said "Yes" vaguely, and they went in together, he to the drawing-room, where he had his mother to encounter, she to the schoolroom, high up in the roof, which she had taken possession of to sit and dream in. Girls seldom have

their lesson so very plainly put forth to more pretentious and less expensive, but them in words, but perhaps Innocent's yet dear enough to frighten any moderate undeveloped mind required it. "What soul out of London. Frederick was you have to do is to please, not yourself, shown into a small dining-room, prebut me!" She pondered the words, and pared for a small party. He saw with got to the length of mastering their mean- some relief that there were but three ing without any criticism. Such plain- places, and took his seat very easily speaking has in it a certain sublimity, and without ceremony in front of the fire, surmounting all secondary shades of with the Times, which was lying on a meaning, and penetrating into the sim-table. He scarcely noticed the door plest soul. She got it by heart, seated on open; when it did open it would no her window-ledge, looking out upon the doubt be Batty, who was not shy, and little chapel, which once more had caught something of the aspect of the church of the Spina. "Not yourself, but me; not yourself, but me!" Thus Innocent got her first great lesson by heart.