keep still. He held his watch in his how slowly the time went! After all, it
hand with feverish anxiety. Lord Ger- was not much more than the half-hour
maine, adjusting his glass more firmly in when the two poor women, scarcely know-
His eye, regarded the rector as if he was a ing what had passed, got up from their
curious animal. Lady Germaine, after knees. He had read more quickly instead
carefully examining the whole group for a of more slowly in the confusion of his
moment, fell, as it was evident to see, into mind. Twenty minutes yet! and the two
convulsions of secret laughter. If it had poor mothers going down the altar steps,
not been so serious it would have been stealing into the first vacant seat to sate
highly comic. And as for the poor wom- their eyes with the ceremony to follow,
en kneeling at the altar, the service so and the other little group ranged before
far did them very little good. They him, Simms putting them in their places
were shocked to the very soul to think very officiously, and no help for it, and no
of standing in the way of a bride; they sign of any one coming. Well! a man
could not resist giving little glances from can do no more than his duty. The rec-
the corners of their eyes to see her, or tor came forward with the sentiments of a
at least the white train of her dress fall- martyr, and opened his book and cleared
ing upon the carpet on the altar steps, his voice. He was so much excited and
which was all that was within their so nervous that he could hardly keep his
range of vision as they knelt with their articulation clear. He had to clear his
hands over their faces. They were very voice a great many times in the first ad-
well-meaning, both of them, and had dress; the figures before him swam in his
really intended to do their religious duty eyes. He had an impression of a sweet,
-but there are some things which are but pale face, very solemn and tremu-
too great a trial for even flesh and blood.lous, yet calm, and of a man who did not
All this time was Mrs. Marston's op- look like an adventurer. It occurred to
portunity if she could have availed herself him, even as he read, that if he had not
of it. She sat in her place in her front known anything about them he would
pew,
in a tremble, meaning every moment have been interested in this young pair.
to put force upon herself to do her duty. Was no one coming, then? He hardly
All the time she was reminding herself knew how he began. Three-quarters
that she was a clergyman's wife; that she chiming, and nothing more that he could
ought not to be timid; that it was her do to gain time! He went on, stumbling,
duty to speak. But how much easier it partly from agitation, partly for delay, lift-
had been last night in intention than it ing his eyes between every two words,
was to-day in reality! For one thing, she committing more indecorum in the course
had not foreseen the presence of Lady of five minutes than he had done before
Germaine. She had thought only of the in all his clerical life. When he came to
poor girl who probably had no mother, to the words, "If any man can show any just
whom it would make all the difference in cause," it came into his head what a mock-
the world to have a woman to speak to. ery it was. He made almost a dead stop,
But the presence of the other lady con- and looked round in a sort of anguish
founded the rector's wife. She sat and "
any man!". why, there was
looked on in a tremor of anxiety and ti- creature, there was nobody but Simms,
midity, unable to move, yet with her heart waiting behind obsequious, thoughtful of
pricking and urging her. And so pretty the half-crowns, and Mrs. Simms staring,
and modest as the bride looked, poor and the two poor women who had been
thing; and surely he was fond of her. He churched. Who of all these was likely
would not look at her like that if it was an to make any objection? And everything
interested marriage. But when she saw perfectly quiet; not a sound outside ex-
the laughter which" the other lady" could cept the ordinary din. Then he put on
not suppress, horror overcame all other his most solemn aspect and looked fully,
sentiments in Mrs. Marston's mind. To severely, in the face of the bridal pair.
laugh in church; to laugh at one of the "I require—and charge you both
church services! She had gone down on ye will answer at the dreadful day of
her knees, but neither did she, it is to be judgment." Tremendous words; and he
feared, give very much attention to the gave them forth one by one, pausing at
prayers. And even the rector's mind was every breathing-place. Surely there never
disturbed. He stumbled twice in what he was such an officiating clergyman. Lord
was saying; his eyes were not upon the Germaine kept that eyeglass full upon
book, but upon the door, watching for him, gravely studying the unknown phe-
some one to come; and, good heavens, nomena of a new species, Lady Germaine,

not a

as

entirely overmastered by the fou rire | been about to perform the greatest act of which had seized her during the church- her life. She had not noted the breaks ing, and fully believing that it was all ec- and pauses in the service, she had not centricity of the most novel kind, crushed thought of anything extraneous, noises her handkerchief into her mouth, and or voices. All that occupied her was the stood behind Winton that her half-hyster- solemnity of the moment, the great thing ical seizure of mirth might not be per- she was doing, the oath she was about to ceived. And now even that adjuration | take. Even now when so rudely awakwas over. Slow as you can say the words, ened she was not sure that the hand of there are still but a few of them to say. the bridegroom seeking hers was not in The rector was in despair. A little more, the course of the service. She gave it to and they would be bound beyond any him, withstanding the grasp upon her man's power to unloose them. He had arm. "Go on, sir!" shouted Lord Gerto begin, "Wilt thou have this woman maine; "do your duty." But the rector At this point he stopped short could not help for the moment a little altogether; his eager ears became con- sense of triumph. He made a step backscious of something strange among the wards and closed his book. And at this outside noises with which he was so fa- moment there was the little rustle in the miliar. He made a sign to Simms, an throat of the church tower, and one, two, angry, anxious gesture, pointing to the three, - noon struck, filling the church door. Lady Germaine was almost beside with successive waves of sound. herself; the little handkerchief now was not enough; a moment more, she felt, and her laugh must peal through the church.

But it did not another moment something else pealed through the church, a loud voice calling "Stop!" and Lady Germaine's disposition to laugh was over in an instant. She gave a little cry instead, and came close to Lady Jane to support her. Lord Germaine dropped his eyeglass from his eye. He said, "Go on, sir; go on, sir; do your duty," imperatively. As for Winton, he turned half round with a start, then, bewildered, pronounced his assent to the question which had been but half asked him. "I will," he said, "I will!" "Go on, sir,” cried Lord Germaine: "go on, sir." In the mean time some one was hurrying up the aisle, pale, breathless, in a whirl of passion. Even in the excitement and horror of the moment Mrs. Marston could not help giving a second look to see what like a duke was in the flesh. The new comer was white with fatigue and fury. He came up to the very altar steps where those two poor women had been kneeling, and thrust Mrs. Simms and the alarmed verger almost violently out of the way. Stop!" he cried, "stop, I forbid it. stop Jane!" and clutched his daughter by the arm. Lady Germaine in her excitement gave a loud shriek and grasped the bride tighter, holding her round the waist, while Winton in a kind of frenzy seized her ungloved hand, which ready to be put into his. Lady Jane thus seized on every side awoke only then out of the abstraction of that solemn and prayerful seriousness in which she had

was

The duke had begun, "Jane!" and Winton had cried out, echoing his friend, to the rector to "go on, go on," when this sound suddenly fell upon them all, ringing slowly, steadily, like a doom bell. Something in the sound stilled every one, even the angry and unhappy young man who saw his marriage broken and his hopes made an end of in a moment. Lady Germaine took her hand away from Jane's waist, and sank down upon the vacant bench and burst out into sobbing, she who felt that she must laugh five minutes before, and Mrs. Marston cried in her pew, and the two poor women looked on with so much sympathy. The duke's hand dropped from his daughter's arm. The only thing that did not alter was the attitude of the two chief figures. They stood with clasped hands before the altar rails. Even now Lady Jane only half understood what had happened. It began to dawn upon her as she saw the closed book, and felt the silence and the sound of the clock. She turned round to Winton with a questioning look, then smiled and gave a little, the slightest, pressure of the hand she held. In this way they stood while the clock struck, no one saying a word. Then there arose several voices together.

"I thank Heaven I arrived in time," the duke exclaimed. "Jane, let there be no further scene, but leave off this silly pantomime, and come home at once with me."

"

"Your bishop shall hear of this, sir! said Lord Germaine, shaking his fist, in spite of himself, at the rector.

Winton, on his side, was too sick at heart to find any words. He said, "It is

over," with a voice of anguish; then | tious for the sake of the young people; added, "but we are pledged to each other - pledged all the same.'

"Let go my daughter, sir," cried the duke.

"We are pledged to each other," Winton repeated. He took the ring out of his pocket, where it lay ready, and put it on her finger, trembling. She is my wife," he said, half-turning round, appealing to the group.

Lady Jane withdrew her right hand, putting it within his arm. She held up that which had the ring upon it, and put her lips to it. "I don't know what this means,' she said, tremulous and yet clear, "but I am his wife."

"Let go my daughter, sir," cried the duke. They were all speaking together. The pair who were not wedded turned round arm-in-arm as they might have done had the ceremony been completed. Once more the duke caught hold of his daughter roughly. "Jane, leave this man. I command you to leave him! Come home at once," he cried. "Mr. Winton, if you have any sense of honor you will give her up at once. My God! will you compromise my daughter and pretend to love her? Jane, will you make your family a laughing-stock? Come, come! You will cover us with shame. You will kill your mother." He condescended to plead with her, so intense was his feeling. "Jane, for the love of Heaven

Lady Germaine !" cried the duke, "I
hope you can forgive yourself for your
share in this; but I cannot forgive you.
Certainly my daughter shall not go with
you. There is but one house to which
she can go
- her father's." He tightened
his hold on her arm as he spoke. Jane!
- this scene is disgraceful to all of us.
Put a stop to it at once. Come home; it
is the only place for you now."

but yet to have the thanks of the duke
The rector had made haste to get out of
his surplice, and now came out with a
little importance and the same idea in his
mind.

Lady Jane was the first to speak. She said, "It is cruel for us all; but perhaps my father is right, things being as they are. I cannot go with you, Reginald, to

our own house.'

Winton's voice came with a burst, halfgroan, half-sob, uncontrollable. "God help us! I don't suppose you can, my darling-till to-morrow.'

"Till to-morrow! Then I will go home to my father's now. Oh, no," she said, shrinking back a little, "not with you. Reginald will take me home."

"Let go my daughter, sir," the duke said. "He shall not touch you. He shall not come near you. What, do you persist? Give her up, Mr. Winton; do you hear me? She says she will come home."

"Father," said Lady Jane very low, "it is you who are forgetting our dignity. I will go home, if Reginald takes me; but not with you. I suppose no one doubts our honor. It is not the time for delay now, after you have done all this. Reginald will take me home."

What the duke said further it is scarcely necessary to record. He had to stand by at last, half-stupefied, and watch them walk down the aisle arm-in-arm, bride and bridegroom, to the evidence of every. body's senses. He followed himself as in a dream, and got in, cowed but vowing vengeance, into the cab, which was all his Grace could find to reach St. Alban's in from the railway, and in that followed the brougham which conveyed his daughter and her not husband, and yet not lover to Grosvenor Square. But when he had once got her there!

The rector and his wife stood openmouthed to see the pageant thus melt away. The duke to whom they had done so great a favor, took no more notice of them than of the two poor women who vaguely felt themselves in fault somehow, and still kept crying, looking after the Then there was a pause, and they all bride. Not a word to the poor clergylooked at each other with a mute consul- man who had almost done wrong for his tation. The little ring of spectators stood sake not a look even, not the faintest and listened. Mrs. Marston, with the acknowledgment any more than if he had tears scarcely dried from her eyes, had nothing to do with it! Simms and watched them with fluttered eagerness, his wife stood gaping, too, at the church expecting the moment when the duke door, looking after the party which had should come and thank her for the warn-been far too much preoccupied to think ing he had received. She was compunc-of half-crowns. "This is how people are

treated after they have done their best. | seems of most interest in the earlier life

I always told you not to meddle," Mrs. Marston said, which was very ungenerous as well as untrue. But the rector said nothing. He was mortified to the bottom of his heart. But when the excitement had a little died away he said to himself with vindictive pleasure that he hoped they were having a pleasant day, those fine people in Grosvenor Square.

From Macmillan's Magazine. JAMES AND JOHN STUART MILL: TRADI

TIONAL AND PERSONAL MEMORIALS. "Who does i' the wars more than his captain can, Becomes his captain's captain."

Antony and Cleopatra, Act iii., Sc. 1.

of James Mill; and conclude with a brief description of the Provençal tomb of John Stuart Mill and his wife, and of the cottage he lived in near it, for the years between her death and his own.

I.

To say that Rousseau, "Ossian" Macpherson, and Voltaire were in the full tide of their vogue must here sufficiently indicate the rapidly advancing revolutionary movements of the great world when James Mill was born, in April, 1773, into the little world of the Forfarshire parish of Logie Pert. His father, a shoemaker, while working at his trade in Edinburgh, before settling in what would appear to have been his native parish, met and married a girl of the same county, who had gone to service in the capital, and was then but seventeen years old. This girl, Isabel Fenton, was the daughter of a farmer, said to have been, before the Rebellion of 1745, a proprietor. 66 Isabel, at all events, looked upon herself as one that had fallen from a better estate. pride took the form of haughty superiority to the other cottagers' wives, and also entered into her determination to rear her eldest son to some higher destiny. She could do fine work,' but was not so much in her element in the common drudgery of her lot. A saying of hers to her husband is still remembered, 'If you give me porridge I'll die, but give me tea and I'll live.' . She was the object of no small spite among the villagers from her presumption in bringing up her eldest son to be a gentleman. But it was the fancy of those that knew her that she was the source of her son's intellectual energy."

Her

"THE united careers of the two Mills," remarks Dr. Bain, who has just published a "Biography" of James, and a "Criticism of John Mill, "covered exactly a century." On the 6th of April, 1773, James Mill was born, and on the 7th of May, 1873, John Mill died. As many years before the outbreak of the French Revolution the former came into the world as, from the time that the latter left it, the years will probably be before the outbreak of a no less needed than, at length, imminent European revolution. Very cursory must here be my notes and reflections on their "united careers. ." But there was a certain degree of romance in the earlier life of the elder Mill, and in the connection of his mother's family with the Jacobite Rebellion of 1745; and there was very much of romance very much, that is, of enthusiastic and self-devoted feeling in John Stuart Mill's affection for the lady who for twenty long years was but his friend, and but for Of more, however, I fancy, than her seven short years his wife. Family tra- son's "intellectual energy," she and the ditions enable me to correct and amplify stock of which she came were the source. what Dr. Bain records of the earlier life Dr. Bain may be right, from his point of of the historian of British India and view, in speaking of Forfarshire as the analyst of the human mind; and personal chief part of the Lowlands "that was so circumstances, and particularly a recent infatuated as to take the field for the visit to Avignon, enable me also to ampli- Pretender." But the theory of heredity fy, and it may be to correct, what Dr. may, perhaps, support one in questioning Bain says of the single passion of the whether the strain of chivalric self-devogreat logician's and political economist's tion visible in James Mill, and conspiculife. What I have to say also, or rather ous in John Stuart Mill, would have shown to suggest, in the way of philosophical itself as it did in either of them had their criticism, will be founded on my personal maternal ancestors not been capable of discussions and correspondence with Mr. the "infatuation" of rising for Prince J. S. Mill. But I shall sandwich my phi- Charlie. Isabel Fenton's father joined losophy with biography. I shall intro- the regiment of Lord Ogilvie. The adduce my criticism, or rather suggestion of jutant of this regiment was Captain James a criticism, with a brief account of what | Stuart, the younger brother of Stuart of