"I am going to be his wife instead," said poor Anne meekly. "He has asked me to be. And-and it is to be very soon; and he is coming to see Mrs. Lewis this morning."

Mrs. Lewis, sitting back in an easy chair, her feet on the fender, dropped the book she was reading, to stare at Anne. Julia burst into a laugh of incredulity. Her mother spoke.

"You poor infatuated girl! This comes of being brought up on French soup. But Sir Robert Tenby has no right to play jokes upon you. I shall write and tell him so."

"I-think-he is there," stammered Anne.

"There he was. A handsome carriage was drawing up to the gate, bearing the baronet's badge upon its panels. Sir Robert sat inside. A footman came up the path and thundered at the door.

Not very long afterwards; it was in the month of June; Anne and her husband were guests at a London crush in Berkeley Square. It was too crowded to be pleasant. Anne began to look tired, and Sir Robert whispered to her that if she had had enough of it, they would go home. "Very gladly," she answered, and turned to say good-night to her hostess.

"Anne! How are you?"

The unexpected interruption, in a voice she knew quite well, and which sent a thrill through her, even yet, pulled Anne up in her course. There stood Henry Angerstyne, his hand held out in greeting, a confident smile, as if assuming she could only receive him joyfully, on his handsome face.

"I am so much surprised to see you here; so delighted to meet you once again, Miss Lewis."

"You mistake, sir," replied Anne, in a cold, proud tone, drawing her head a little up. "I am Lady Tenby."

Walking forward, she put her arm within her husband's, who waited for her. Mr. Angerstyne understood it at once: it needed not the almost bridal robes of white silk and lace to enlighten him. She was not altered. She looked just the same single-minded, honesthearted girl as ever, with a pleasant word for all-save just in the moment when she had spoken to him.

"I am glad of it: she deserves her good fortune," he thought heartily. With all his faults, few men could be more generously just than Henry Angerstyne.

JOHNNY LUDLOW.

462

AT RAVENHOLME JUNCTION.

ERE you ever out in a more wretched night in your life?"

"WE asked Harry Luscombe in a tone of disgust, as we were

trudging wearily along after a full half-hour of absolute silence.

The rain was certainly coming down "with a vengeance," as people say. We had been out all day fishing in some private waters about ten miles from home. A friend had given us a lift in his trap the greater part of the way in going, and we had arranged to walk back, never dreaming that the sunny day would resolve itself into so wet an evening. Fortunately, each of us had taken a light mackintosh, and we had on our thick fishing-boots, otherwise our plight would have been much worse than it was.

"Wretched night!" again ejaculated Harry, whose pipe the rain would persist in putting out.

"But surely we cannot be far from the Grange now?" I groaned. "A good four miles yet, old fellow," answered my friend. "We must grin and bear it."

For ten more minutes we paced the slushy road in moist silence.

"I wouldn't have cared so much," growled Harry at last, "if we had only a decent lot of fish to take home. Won't Gerty and the governor chaff us in the morning!"

I winced. Harry had touched a sore point. I rather prided myself on my prowess with rod and line; yet here was I, after eight hours' patient flogging of the water, going back to the Grange with a creel that I should blush to open when I got there. It was most annoying.

By-and-by we came to a stile, crossing which we found a footpath through the meadows, just faintly visible in the dark. The footpath,

in time, brought us to a level crossing over the railway. But instead of crossing the iron road to the fields beyond, as I expected he would do, Harry turned half round and began to walk along the line. "Where on earth are you leading me to?" I asked, as I stumbled and barked my shins over a heap of loose sleepers by the side of the rails, "Seest thou not yonder planets that flame so brightly in the midnight sky?" he exclaimed, pointing to two railway signals clearly visible some quarter of a mile away. "Thither are we bound. Disturb not the meditations of a great mind by further foolish questionings.'

I was too damp to retort as I might otherwise have done, so I held my peace and stumbled quietly after him. Little by little we drew nearer to the signal lamps, till at last we stood close under them. They

shone far and high above our heads, being, in fact, the crowning points of two tall semaphore posts. But we were not going quite so far skyward as the lamps, our destination being the signalman's wooden hut from which the semaphores were worked. This of itself stood some distance above the ground, being built on substantial posts driven firmly into the embankment. It was reached by a flight of wooden steps, steep and narrow. We saw by the light shining from its windows that it was not without an occupant. Harry put a couple of fingers to his mouth and whistled shrilly. "Jim Crump," he shouted, "Jim Crump-hi! Where are you?"

The

"Is that you, Mr. Harry?" said a voice, and then the door above us was opened. "Wait a moment, sir, till I get my lantern. steps are slippery with the rain, and one of them is broken."

"You see, my governor is one of the managing directors of this line," said Harry, in explanation, while we were waiting for the lantern, "so that I can come and go, and do pretty much as I like about here."

"But why have you come here at all?" I asked.

"For the sake of a rest and a smoke, and a talk with Jim Crump about his dogs."

Two minutes later and we had mounted the steps, and for the first time in my life I found myself in a signalman's box.

It was a snug little place enough, but there was not much room to spare. There were windows on three sides it, so that the man on duty might have a clear view both up and down the line. Five or six long iron levers were fixed in a row below the front window. The due and proper manipulation of these levers, which were connected by means of rods and chains with the points and signals outside, and the working of the simple telegraphic apparatus which placed him en rapport with the stations nearest to him, up and down, were the signalman's sole but onerous duties. Both the box and the lamps overhead were lighted with gas brought from the town, two miles away.

"I have been wanting to see you for the last two or three weeks, Mr. Harry," said Crump, a well-built man of thirty, with clear resolute eyes and a firm-set mouth.

"Ay, ay. What's the game now, Crump? Got some more of that famous tobacco?"

"Something better than the tobacco, Mr. Harry. I've got a bull terrier pup for you. Such a beauty!"

"The dickens you have!" cried Harry, his eyes all a-sparkle with delight. "Crump, you are a brick. A bull terrier pup is the very thing I've been hankering after for the last three months. Have you got it here ?"

"No, it's at home. You see, I didn't know that you were coming to-night."

Harry's countenance fell. "That's a pity now, isn't it?"

"It don't rain near so fast as it did," said Crump, "and if you would like to take the pup with you, I'll just run home and fetch it. I can go there and back in twenty minutes. It's agen the rules to leave my box, I know, and I wouldn't leave it for anybody but you; and not even for you, Mr. Harry, if I didn't know that you knew how to work the levers and the telly a'most as well as I do myself. Besides all that, there will be nothing either up or down till twelve thirty. What say you, sir ?"

"I say go by all means, Crump. You may depend on my looking well after the signals while you are away."

"Right you are, sir."

coat.

And Crump proceeded to pull on his over

"I wish I could make you more comfortable, sir," said Crump to me. "But this is only a roughish place."

Harry and I sat down on a sort of bunk or locker at the back of the box. Harry produced his flask, which he had filled with brandy before leaving the hotel. Crump declined any of the proffered spirit, but accepted a cigar. Then he pulled up the collar of his coat and went. In the pauses of our talk we could hear the moaning of the telegraph wires outside as the invisible fingers of the wind touched them in passing.

"This is Ravenholme Junction," said Harry to me.

"Is it, indeed? Much obliged for the information," I answered drily.

"About two years ago a terrible accident happened close to this spot. No doubt you read about it at the time."

"Possibly so. But if I did, the facts have escaped my memory." "The news was brought to the Grange, and I was on the spot in less than three hours after the smash. I shall never forget what I saw that night." He smoked in grave silence for a little while, and then he spoke again. "I don't know whether you are acquainted with the railway geography of this district, but Ravenholme-I am speaking of the village, which is nearly two miles away-is on a branch line, which diverges from the main line some six miles north of this box, and after zigzagging among various busy townships and hamlets, joins the main line again about a dozen miles south of the point where it diverged; thus forming what is known as the Ravenholme Loop Line. None of the main line trains run over the loop: Passengers from it going to any place on the main line have to change from the local trains at either the north or south junction, according to the direction they intend to travel."

I wondered why he was telling this.

"You will understand from this that the junction where we are now is rather an out-of-the-way spot-out of the way, that is, of any great