the carriage, recommending to her to lean back in the corner and go to sleep. Phoebe wa

to breathe; but the way was nothing extraordinary. A pleasant cou

ery of a new quality. At once more wild and more dressed; the ground bolder and more rocky in parts, but between filled wi

r. Falkirk now you will be rewarded. I have som

ks for some time,' she said, as she made the change; 'but

at a flood of bright, slant sunbeams were searching out all the beauty there was in the land, and winning it into view. It was

ly play to him, and who was much more occupied with his companion. She glanced

t ever were written, I suppose. Bu

to be mentioned i

omessi

ile we are getting up this hill-there'll

difficulties. That is the principal idea so far. I haven't come t

the book was not a bad book?' he s

book I mean, because the people could not help

ed in people who can

. Not those who don't know or wont try. But my words did not mean

an get out of diffi

he matter w

people. Lucia was a peasant, but she was "si bella" tha

e difficulties

somebody to marry you-and then sent a party to run away with your bride-so that she had to go into a

grow worse before all those events could happen! But on the highest round of that ladder of

ou, but from the grandee. It would onl

s you say, then the interest would be gone. Do you think the

t have been real. I

f I knew t

st would be less?' he sa

are so many things to qualify yo

who get out of them; and so I think most novels are stupid, because the men and women are all real to me. There!' he said

us eye- view and the painter's colours that decked it; for which, broken ground in front and distant low hil

you are?' said he i

home,-but it's n

but you can't see it in this light. It's two miles away. Do you see, further to

es

cheloo. It's a prett

reach the next turn

n the other directi

cus

and as you go up the hill Mr. Falkirk's cottage is just by

ee on that side, and we are about five miles from it on this;' and as he spoke he set the horses in motion. 'I sent on a rescript to Mrs. Bywan

't seen her but once since I left home. I'm sure yo

of that. But I have some better.-Miss Kennedy, I

ear it

nds for me to fill up. However,-as I am not to have that honour on the present occasion I will explain. Let me be the one to int

will not be responsible for any accidenta

t is a bargain? I shall ask h

's postscript, Mr. Rollo. However, I suppos

ive it

ay

' said he, smiling. 'H

t him rather wonderingly, b

the right to change

was nothing sentimental; it was only a frank clasp, in which her hand for a moment was not her own; and though the clasp did not linger, for that second's continuance it gave her an indescribable impression, she could hardly have told of what. It was not merely the gentleness; she could not separate from that the notion of possession, and of both as being in the mind, to which the hand w

expect to see

and-Mr. Falkirk, didn't y

r. Falkirk made some astonished response. "I meant, what

you-nothing

, came in sight first, then the massive piers of the gate. The gate was wide open, but while the little undergrowth of children started up and took possession of window and door and roadside, the gate was held by the head of the house, a sturdy, middle aged American. Wych Hazel had leaned out, watching the children; but as the carriage turned through the gateway, and she saw this man, standing there uncovered, caught the working of his brown weatherbeaten face, she bowed her head indeed, in answer to his low salutation, but then dropped her face in her hands in a perfect passion of weeping. It

overhead the clouds revelled in splendour. Up still the horses went, ever ascending, but slowly, for the ascent was steep. The delay, the length of the drive tired her,-she sat up again-she had been quietly leaning back; once or twice her hand went up with a quick movement to drive back the feeling that was passing limits; then gaining level ground once more, the horses sprang forward, and in the failing twilight th

was hard to say how. As difficult as it would have been to guess by what witchcraft a person or Mr. Bywank's proportio

rees-a sort of pathway for the sunbeams. The direct rays were gone, and only the warm sky glow brightened the hall door, w

, room's ready and s

Mass

he'll be he

s the tramp of a horse's feet heralded the coming of Mr. Rollo, who appeared from the corner or the house, mounted on an old grey cob, who switched his tail

ing fall on the little dark figure who stood at his stirrup, a gold piece and a smile, Rollo passed him, bent

re was a great store of old fashioned elegance and comfort in Wych Hazel's home; no doubt of it; of old-fashioned state too, and old-time respectability; to which numberless old-time witnesses stood testifying on every hand, from the teapot, the fashion of which was a hundred years ancient, to the uncouth brass andirons in the fireplace. Mr. Falkirk cam

ked Dingee. 'Mas Rollo, he say he break his he

im,- 'and when you tell stories about Mr. Rollo tell the