ot-Lowry, with a disapproval as deep as it was prejudiced. It was a person whose opinion might, by the thoughtless, b

ears. Possibly a vision of an adoring and devoted retainer may here present itself. If so, it must be immediately dispelled. In Mr. Evans' opinion, such devotion and adoration as the case demanded, were owed to him by the House on which he had for so long a time bes

ion of the inner fortress of another individual, making his views spiritual responsible for his fortunes temporal. But in Ireland, in the earlier half of the troubled nineteenth century, such differentiation was inspired not by bigotry, but by fear. When a man's foes might be, and often were

s were superfluous for one in a state of grace, but the glory of the House of Talbot-Lowry demanded a full and rustling pew of female domestics, while the coachman, and a footman or a groom, were generally to be relied on to give a masculine stiffening to the party. With Lady Isabel's régime had come a slackening of moral fibre, a culpable setting of attainments, or of convenience, above creed, in the administration of the household. Once had Lady Isabel been actually overheard by

of the secession to the enemy of Colonel Tom Coppinger. Only second to it was the discovery that Colonel

wet afternoon, shortly after the Coppinger return: "I see changes here, better and worse, good and bad,

nd though ever anxious to conciliate him whom she respected and feared as "M

hiskers and hair, and fierce pale blue eyes. Later on, Christian, in the pride of her first introduction to Tennyson, had been inspired by his high shoulders and black tailed coat to

efore God, Mrs. Dixon, if I was to tell you the Pope o' Rome was

calm, and even reverted to Mr. Evans' earlier statement in a manne

e was a nice child enough, and the very dead spit of the poor

e offered those ill-fated apologies relative to King Agag, w

hunted and suffering tribe of his pantry-boys to the ejaculation: "I thank God, there's more in his boots than what's there ro

of those who changed their religion, but thi

lled after her antagonist; "'twasn't

lammed

y from her easy mind, looked at the

her chair. Even as she did so, there came a rapping, quick and urgent, at the window. "Look at that now!

en the window! Hu

old hunting-cap, and decorated with a c

hat are you doing out there in the wet?" answered Mrs. Dixon, r

Dixie, and hurry! Amazon's bolted, and Cottingham's asked

l-boy, but as, since Christian's first birthday, she had never refused her an

you do his business!" she said, putting the requisition bait into Chr

provided, and flitting away through the grey veils of the rain, a preposterous little figure, clad in a ragged kennel-c

d moustache, which ran too, almost as fast as she did. She had made a détour to avoid the schoolroom windows. Her birthday party was toward, and charades (accounting for her moustache) were in full swing. But the message from Cottingham, secretly conveyed together wit

-souled little Devonshire man, whose dyed hair was the solitary indicatio

d to give 'er a bit of a 'iding-she tried to run a sheep when we was walkin' out last evening-she's a revengeful sort, she is, and v

ardent, stood and listened with respectful and absorbed interest. Cottingham might be elderly, egotistic, long-winded, but at this period of her career, Christian's hot heart beat throb for throb with his, and th

far away, and she'd 'ave what I might call cawnfidence in you, Missie-" Cottingham had at length concluded: "Her's that sly we might

on with them, so Christian reflected, and prepared herself to rebut any such slander. The rain was lighter, and the soaking mist that had all day filled the valley, was slowly thinning, and revealing the mighty scroll of silver that was the river, while the woods and hillsides came and went, illusive as the grey hints of landscape in a Japanese water-colour. But at the mature age of ten years, Christian cared for none of these things. She saw the smoke from the Mount Music kitchen chimney blending bluely with the mist, and thought with a momentary pang of the birthday cake. She wondered i

f the little valley in which they reposed, and quite suddenly there rose in her the conviction that her quest was nearing success. She was of that mysteriously-gifted company to whom the lairs of things lost are revealed. She "found things"; she was "lucky." She was regarded by the servants as one enfolded in the cloak of St. Anthony, that inestimable saint, who

n a ledge of rock, and waited, throbbing with anticipation, and had not long to wait. A brown shadow moved i

horizon. Christian was an apt scholar, and Cotting

of the kennel-coat, and, still walking closely in Cottingham's steps, bit it, ate a part of it, and carelessly flung the remainder in

a doting wood-pigeon might apostrophise

very hungry, capitulated, and came sidling up to the charmer, with propitiatory smiles, and deprecati

aithful quotation from the great ensample, as with a swiftness and deci

achievement, and it was while, in contentment and friendsh

ur of rock and furze, an

admiringly, "I was afraid to

e that she was please

ou know wh

d me the hill, and then I spotted your white coat-not that it's so

le assumption of the duties of guardianship was a thin

said Larry, with a placating grin.

'!" said Christian, still with

s. She thought it was rather decent of him to have come, and she let him lead Amazon for a part of the