sitting down, she endeavoured to recall the exact words she had used so incautiously the previous day, expecting to be called to account for them. "I know it is wrong-my whole heart is wrong, and sore too. I must either cry or get into a passion, which is the most likely if he rates me in his sarcastic, provoking way."

Hastily preparing her defence in her own mind, which was simply that his unkindness drove her to be naughty when her real desire was to act towards him as a daughter, she slowly repaired to the invalid's room, and, after a short preliminary knock, opened the door and went in. Omitting, in her preoccupation, the customary "good-morning," but not the obnoxious term that habit had rendered indispensable, she walked up to him, saying, "You sent for me, grandpa."

I sent for you," he began, his grey eyes fixed upon her as if examining her features for the first time-" I sent for you because-because I wanted you. That, I suppose, is reason enough."

Braced in a measure for a stormy interview, she made no reply, but waited to be attacked, with more defiance than humility in her countenance. Mr. Rivers had his cash-box open on the table, and a little pile of sovereigns before him, which he pushed towards her, saying, "Take them; I dare say you have no money in your pocket."

"Only a few shillings," said Etta, taking up the sovereigns and counting them with a dismay that was faithfully reflected in her face.

'Well, what now? Not satisfied? more do you want to throw away ?"

How much

"Nothing to throw away, only necessary clothes to wear; I am not quite prepared for the winter," she stammered, colouring with shame and mortification at being so acutely made to feel her dependence and her anomalous position-heiress of Deane Hall, and yet a beggar!

You

"I suppose you want a new gown, a bonnet, and other fallals peculiar to women-folk. can't expect me to occupy myself with them. Did not Miss Marsh make your dresses and Miss Somebody else your bonnets while you were at school? Can't you write to them and tell them to do the same now? Don't encourage them to be extravagant. That's all I have to say."

Etta felt as if she had dropped from the clouds upon a strange place and into a new atmosphere. The old man's voice was rough-that, however, was its natural tone-but there was an approach to a smile upon his lips, and the eyes were less hard and stony than usual. Easily touched, and thankful for every crumb of kindness from a quarter where she so much desired to feel gratitude, she laid her lips upon his withered hand as she murmured her thanks, and then asked to be allowed to do something for him, but here she met with the usual check.

Mr. Rivers wanted nothing of her-no help, no service. Though softened at the moment through Ernest's intervention, and the prospect of Deane Hall passing to his nephew by her means, without any act of his own which the world would deem reprehensible, he was not a whit nearer liking the girl than he had been before. To him she still was his wife's daughter, for whom he had suffered

much vexation while she lived and inconvenience since her death, but he had so far changed as to be willing to condone past offences for future peace on his own terms. If Etta could have accepted the lot he destined for her she might have exchanged her girlish troubles for a happy womanhood, and perhaps, by the slow influence of patient well-doing, have won what she so much coveted-some portion of Mr. Rivers's regard.

But it was not to be. Most of us at one period or other of life can look back with a yearning regret to what might have been-to advantages disdained or gifts squandered, which, differently estimated, might have brought enduring satisfaction; and, sadder still, some to affections despised or lost which might have brought peace and rest to the aching heart.

In spite of the momentary kindness evinced by Mr. Rivers, Etta was as far as ever from seeing her desire accomplished. Again repelled, her heart closed against him as before, and probably grew harder. Gratitude is a tender plant, and when repeatedly checked is apt to wither and give place to the growth of weeds.

She left her stepfather's presence, tightly clasping her gold, rejoicing that this was to be a quarterly payment for odds and ends, but with very cold feelings towards the donor. Having hitherto had little at her disposal, the present allowance, to do as she liked with, seemed riches. Before night it had been spent several times over, each fresh effort of imagination being an improvement on the former one. True to her favourite rôle as the Lady Bountiful of the village, it was all to be laid out upon others. Scarcely a family but what came in for some benefit from it. Pennies were to be furnished for those who could not pay their children's schooling, clothing for those who needed it, and medicine for the sick. In fact, Etta had no idea where her ability to help would end.

A new interest was also thrown into her correspondence with Ethel Dawson. They agreed to dress alike as nearly as possible. The relative beauty of the various colours forming a subject of frequent discussion, patterns were continually sent to and fro. Altogether the command of a small sum of money, with power to exercise her own will and taste, infused a little sweetness into Etta's home life, which, from the time she left school, had been chiefly composed of bitters.

But all this rather hindered than advanced the cause Mr. Rivers had now really at heart. At the end of a month Ernest was obliged to own that he could make no way with Etta beyond the fact that there was more intimacy. The little attentions in his power to offer were carelessly received. She would frankly acknowledge that she liked best to wait upon herself. If he inquired after her health, she laughed at him, protesting that she was never ill; or, if he tried to show an interest in her pursuits, she resented it as an interference. If he talked to her, she showed no desire to listen, nor welcomed any act of kindness whatsoever. Her one sole desire seemed to be to cherish and defend her independence. She piqued him, she vexed him, she mortified him. Marble was not more

cold nor water less impressionable. And Ernest could only chafe under his inability to please; he had never thought so little of himself before.

One evening the question he was always dreading from Mr. Rivers came. He asked him how he was succeeding in his courtship.

"I fear I shall not have the honour of winning Miss Lacy's favour," he was forced to answer. "She is so young, and if not childish, at least so far from womanly in her tastes, that I am inclined to think it may be years before she is capable of understanding even the meaning of sentiment."

"And what does a wise man want with sentiment and such frothy nonsense?" broke forth Mr. Rivers, in a tone of impatience mixed with contempt. "All that I want is to hear if you are willing to marry her. Give me a plain answer, yes or no, and then I shall know how to act."

Having asked himself the same question almost daily for a month past, and always with the same result, Ernest had no difficulty in giving a reply. He had never seen any one who interested him as much as Etta, and had been surprised to find how kindly he took to his uncle's wishes from the time they were mentioned. His emphatic "Yes" came from a true and loyal heart. "Yes, I am more than willing if I can win her."

And why should you not? Girls like her are not invincible."

"But she seems behind her age, and, for the present at least, to find happiness enough in school-girl dreams and friendships and all kinds of impossible imaginings. In a few years she may be different."

You and she will find that I do not go back from my word. If the marriage does not take place at Christmas it will be the worse for her, and so you may tell her."

"Threats are not likely to advance my cause in these days, whatever they might have done some centuries ago," said Ernest, a smile of amusement passing over his features, now sufficiently bronzed by his outdoor life to gain his uncle's admiration. "History relates that William of Normandy won his wife by rough usage. After having been several times refused, it is said that he waylaid Matilda of Flanders, took her from her palfrey, rolled her in the mud, and in the end compelled her to wed him."

"And they were probably a happy couple, as he proved himself her master," rejoined Mr. Rivers, with a touch of cynicism.

"I should prefer the superiority to be mental rather than muscular."

"As you please, but I keep my word. He must be a poor fellow who cannot conquer the caprices of a girl."

Mr. Rivers had forgotten how his suit had failed before the bright young Margery, though it had found favour with the sobered and disappointed widow.

"Perhaps I might fare better if my aunt were not so outspoken with her original opinions. I sometimes see Miss Lacy drinking them in like nectar, and can hardly help smiling at the contrast between the two."

"Matty was always fool enough to set up for

being wiser than her neighbours. The fact is that not many men would care to woo a petticoated philosopher, and so she has managed to keep her snug little property to herself. I advise you to take the wife I propose."

"If it were only to take, you would be giving me no difficult task, but, as we all know, it wants. two to make a bargain as well as a quarrel," said the young man, while the old one muttered various threats which it might have alarmed Etta to overhear.

T

CHAPTER XV.-A COMPACT WITH MISS MATTY..

O do Ernest justice, he was troubled by his uncle's mutterings, knowing that they boded evil to Miss Lacy, whom he in no wise wished to supplant, though quite willing to share Deane Hall with her on the terms proposed. Two months of the stipulated time had yet to run; if he had not much hope, he did not yet despair. She was a strange little thing on the surface, and yet he believed there was gold below. As he sauntered along the gravel walk, the object of his thoughts, equipped for a ramble, issued from the

front door.

66

"I hope you are not going far," he observed, "there is heavy rain coming."

Not easily deterred from any project in view, Etta looked upward, turned her head this way and that way, and then said she was going first to the vicarage and afterwards to the village.

"You will hardly be able to reach the vicarage with fast walking before the rain falls, and when it does come, it will be heavy. At least take an umbrella," he suggested, seeing that she showed no intention of giving up her expedition, at the same time glancing at the small, dainty parasol in her hand. "That little toy will be of no use in a storm."

But Etta was neither to be turned from her purpose nor brought to trust in his knowledge of the weather. Vouchsafing a careless nod of thanks, she assured him she should do very well, and hurried on her way.

"Self-willed and wild as-" Ernest hesitated for a comparison that would not be too derogatory, and not finding what he wanted, left the sentence incomplete and began another. "A man would be as much ashamed of being severe with her as of being mastered by her."

The rain fell as he had predicted, a thorough downpour which lasted about half an hour, and then the sky cleared, but only for a short time. Any one watching the clouds could foresee that the respite was only temporary. In about an hour the horizon was again overcast-assuming the indigo hue which announces settled foul weather. Occasionally a gust of wind swept round the house, shaking down the dead brown leaves still clinging to the branches, unwilling to lay their variegated beauty in the dust. Fearing to vex Etta by any display of solicitude on her account, he made his aunt the excuse, and turned into the sitting-room for a little idle chat. "Where is Miss Lacy?" he asked, at the first pause in the conversation. Who knows?" replied Miss Matty, with in

difference, the movements of the young girl being nothing to her.

"She went out just before the last shower with only a foolish little parasol; if she has not returned, she is likely to encounter a drenching with no protection against it."

Why did you not warn her of what was coming?"

"I did, and finding her still resolved upon her walk, recommended her to take an umbrella, but she only laughed at me."

"Well then, let her get wet, no one will feel it but herself."

But Ernest did not seem inclined to dispose of the subject so summarily. He went from window to window examining the sky, and finally opened one and thrust his head out.

66

"Shut it, please," said Miss Matty, raising her shoulders, or you will give me the rheumatism." Thus reproved he sat down beside her, and in a

few minutes incurred another rebuke.

"What a fidget you are!" she said, sharply, taking a ball of wool out of his hand which he had been absently tossing in the air. "A man in the house on a rainy day is a fitting match for Solomon's brawling woman. I think I prefer the latter. Why don't you go out? You can't be afraid of a little rain."

"I should then be more dainty than a woman, for Miss Lacy is probably wandering about without caring for it."'

"Then you had better go after her."

"Presently I will, but as we are not likely to be interrupted I should first like to have a few words with you. I want to ascertain if you mean to act as my friend-my enemy you cannot be-yet you may damage my cause unwittingly."

Miss Matty was provoking. She placidly continued knitting, showing no disposition either to help or understand, so that he was obliged to speak more plainly.

"I don't know if my uncle has taken you into his confidence, nor indeed how far he means what he says. His threats may be only words, intended to bring about a scheme he has at heart. He wishes me to marry Etta Lacy. Did he never tell you so?"

"No, but Mr. Nash did. Well, I see no objection if she suits you. As well you as another." "You speak as if it rested with me. I am but one of the principals, and, foreseeing difficulties, I want your assistance and sympathy." Miss Matty laughed aloud; the idea of her turning match-maker was too ridiculous.

"I am certainly not the person to be of use to you," she said, showing her amusement in a manner sufficiently irritating to one in earnest. "Whilst the world lasts there will be marrying and giving in marriage, and people weak enough to take a willing part in facilitating such events, without my adding to the number."

"I ask far less than you imagine," said Ernest; "I only require your negative help-in other words, that you will abstain from expressing your peculiar opinions. If you indoctrinate Miss Lacy with them, it will be a bad day for us all. She is young and-and-"

"Opinionated as ignorant. I wish you joy of a wife like that.'

"Thank you," replied Ernest, simply, not stopping to defend Etta, or, indeed, appearing to recognise what was offensive in Miss Matty's speech. "Should my uncle be disappointed he is likely to take some step that will place us all in a false position. He is always saying that he wants a man about him, and that a woman, with landed property of the description of Deane Hall, is an anomaly. His threats are vague, but continually recurring. You may understand that it would not be pleasant to me to find hereafter that I had been made the instrument for wronging Miss Lacy."

"And so you hope to satisfy your conscience and gratify your uncle by marrying her-a very dutiful nephew! Under the circumstances you may be glad to have such an easy adaptability of character."

Stung by his aunt's words, and provoked that so much combined to place him in this invidious light, Ernest flushed with displeasure, but happily did not lose his self-control. There was too much truth in his aunt's innuendo not to give force to its sting, but it was truth distorted to his disadvantage. Left to himself he would not have thought of Etta Lacy for a wife, having nothing to offer beyond the proceeds of his pen, which hitherto had been very small, but again and again he rejoiced that it was Etta rather than his cousin who was proposed to him. Miss Matty had also done Etta injustice which it behoved him to repel by speaking; and, at the risk of being misunderstood, he resolved to declare his real sentiments towards her, though they were such as he would naturally much rather keep to himself, still more would desire to hide from a cynic like Miss Matty.

"If I were to profess any strong attachment to Miss Lacy you would not believe me. I am not going to do anything of the kind," said Ernest, seeing his aunt toss her head with an air of incredulity; "neither will I tell you that such a thing is impossible. If I am willing to comply with my uncle's expressed wishes, it is because in so doing I have no difficulty in pleasing myself. The eulogium, therefore, you have just made upon what you term my adaptability of character, is undeserved. Before I say more, let me ask a question of you. Supposing my uncle to repent of his hardness to his nephews, and to desire to be succeeded by one of them? As matters now stand he sees no honourable way to the accomplishment of that desire except marriage with the heiress. Don't interrupt me," said Ernest, deprecatingly, "hear me out. Were Harold alive and in my place, what would be your advice to him? Would you tell him to fling back his uncle's softened feelings in his favour, refusing him every chance of rectifying an act sincerely regretted, or would you counsel him to give the proposition full consideration? That you do not like Miss Lacy is nothing to the point. Young men and-"

"Old women see differently. Agreed,” replied Miss Matty, finishing the sentence for him.

"You do not like Miss Lacy," repeated Ernest; "I don't know why. Any way, I am not able to

see Miss Lacy with your eyes. She is young; so am I. She has faults and foibles; who has not? From the first she amused me, and to amuse is to interest. May not a deeper feeling be linked on to such a foundation without deserving reproach merely because my material interests go with it? Again I ask what counsel would you have given Harold had he been in my place?"

At this interrogation, calmly made, Miss Matty laid down her knitting, and fixed her sharp eyes upon her nephew. With all his faults Harold had been her favourite. She could not but mentally acknowledge that the prospect of seeing him enjoy what she would have considered his rightful inheritance might have shaken her a little loose from her prejudices. Ernest's direct appeal to her honesty was not without effect, but she met it by a counter-appeal to his own.

"Can you seriously assure me that Etta Lacy is anything to you beyond the medium by which you

IN PURSUIT.

are to gratify my brother and become the master of Deane Hall ?"

Miss Matty watched the red flush overspread the young man's cheek with malicious pleasure, and waited for his reply with cruel patience. It came very soon.

"If I am slow to answer, it is not that I am ashamed of the truth," he said; "but is it well to anatomise oneself for the gratification of others? If for personal advantage I feigned an affection I did not feel you might despise me; how much more if I suffered my uncle to do an act injurious to Miss Lacy when I could prevent it. Be thankful that your nephew can play his part with a clear conscience in circumstances so delicate. If Etta Lacy's lot is confided to me it shall not be my fault if sorrow or disappointment enter it. I have now answered every question you have a right to ask, and for the rest I must be trusted."

Miss Matty thought so too, and could not but allow that nothing base or sordid was to be associated with the refined and intellectual countenance before her.

"You will not then commence with a little aversion ?" said Miss Matty, smiling as she put out her hand, which Ernest took as a tacit sign of goodwill.

"Far from it." He was satisfied, for he knew his aunt to be loyal in spite of her prejudices. If she could not help she would not mar, and, above all, she would not misjudge him.

They had been too absorbed in the subject of their conversation to heed the state of the weather and the increasing blackness of the clouds. Their attention was suddenly drawn to it by a sharp shower of hail, which rattled against the windows and flew off in all directions, making the atmosphere as white as it had before been dark. Murmuring something about seeing after things, Ernest was leaving the room, when his aunt called after him,

"What is it you want me to do?"

"To abstain from your accustomed railings against wedlock, and also from all sententious remarks you may think applicable to Miss Lacy or to me. In fact, to leave us a fair field."

Tamed for the present, Miss Matty signified her assent more graciously than was her wont, and Ernest hastened to the vicarage to look after the self-willed child who was beginning to charm as well as trouble him. The white hailstones lay thick on the road, and it still rained, though the brunt of the storm was over.

"She will not thank me for coming after her, and is as likely as not to declare either that she does not mind rain, or perhaps that she likes it and prefers walking home alone," thought Ernest, musing over the young lady's oddities as he went through the vicarage garden and knocked at the door.

"Is Miss Lacy here?" he asked, when the

housekeeper appeared. "We think she is unprepared to encounter such weather, especially as another storm is threatening."

"So I told her, leastways I said it would be a wet afternoon; but she wanted to go into the village, and if Miss Etta takes a thing into her head no one can put it out. Won't you come in, sir?" she added, stepping back to leave him room to

enter.

"No, thank you, not now. How is Mr. Reade?" "Bravely, bravely. It is grand to see a man of his age in the pulpit every Sunday expounding as he does. They say the study of books gives long life, but, to my thinking, it is peace of mind. That's it, sir, that's it. Don't you agree with me?"

Ernest was careful not to differ, being unwilling to prolong the interview. Mrs. Hutton's dominant feeling was worship of her master.

Once launched in praise of Mr. Reade she was no easily brought to port.

"Where do you think Miss Lacy is likely to be found?" inquired Ernest at the first pause.

"Well, I can't say. She wanted arrowroot for Dame Foster's children. I offered her gruel, which would have messed up for them quite as well, but she would have arrowroot and nothing else, and said she would go to Lower Deane and fetch some; but that is a long way, and she must have seen the rain a-coming," replied Mrs. Hutton, straining her neck out to take a survey for herself, " only you know that Miss Etta, small as she is, she has a will."

Ernest did not attempt to dispute her opinion, but he turned away, saying to himself that if Mrs. Hutton had been a man instead of a garrulous old woman he would have felt great satisfaction in punching his head.

CA

THE RAPHAEL OF CATS.

ATS have, somehow, come to be considered as identical with witches. If the broom invariably served as a nag for the witch, as invariably the cat was her familiar and imp. We shall not dwell at any great length upon this dark and revolting chapter in the history of superstition. The dreadful stories are tolerably accessible to all readers who desire to review these singular insanities of opinion in other ages. But when Matthew Hopkins, the witch-finder, carried on his dreadful inquisitorial persecutions, the cat was one of the strong evidences which led many a poor old woman and many a beautiful young girl to the flames.

Mr. Broderip, in his entertaining "Zoological Recreations," quotes from some curious pamphlets, especially from one, "Newes from

Scotland," published in 1591, in which a cat was the cause of a tempest which nearly wrecked the king's majesty, James 1. Here is the passage, in which a witch confesses that "she took a cat and christened it, etc., etc., and that in the night following, the said cat was conveyed into the middest of the sea by all these witches sayling in their riddles, or cives (sieves), and so left the said cat right before the town of Leith in Scotland. This doone, there did arise such a tempest at sea, as a greater hath not been seen, etc. Againe, it is confessed that the said christened cat was the cause of the kinge's majestie's shippe, at his comming forthe of Denmarke, had a contrarie winde to the rest of the shippes then being in his companie, which thing was most straunge and true, as the kinge's majestie acknowledgeth, for when the rest of the shippes had a fair and good winde, then was the winde contrarie, and altogether against his majestie, etc." There is a great deal more which might be quoted of a like description, but we really feel a sense of shame in writing down such curious illustrations of the wonders of human folly.

We have an account, in a criminal trial in 1594, of a convocation of sorcerors assembled at Seaton Thorn, first christening a cat, and' then offering her as an oblation to Satan; but the stories of trials are, of course, innumerable. We will detain our readers with them no longer; enough to refer to the bad character which, somehow or other, poor puss obtained in other days. But the mythology of the cat is equally singular, and discreditable to our household friend and companion; she seems to have been regarded throughout the northern myths very much as a vampire. The night-mare often