"Why have you,not a fire if you mean to stay here?" asked Miss Matty.

"I told Lizzie to light it, but suppose she went to her dinner and forgot."

More occupied with her own thoughts than with Etta's health just then, Miss Rivers sat down and referred to the tale of the morning.

"Do you still think you saw Ernest kneeling before his uncle while I was in church? How long had you been downstairs?"

Not long; not long enough to go to sleep, if you mean that. I did not even lie down at all. Being too restless to read I went to see grandpa, believing him to be alone. I just opened the door and quickly closed it again. I could not go in after what I saw."

"What did you think they were doing?"

"Ernest Rivers appeared to be asking something very anxiously, and his uncle was listening." "Did you hear anything, or were they disturbed by your opening the door?"

"Not a word, and I do not think they heard me either."

Miss Matty was more puzzled than ever. Not an iota did Etta vary in her statement, and evidently believed it herself. If not a dream it was an hallucination. She looked hard at the young girl; there was about her the delicacy of convalescence, but nothing otherwise peculiar. But youth, she reflected, liked tales of mystery, and had fertile imaginations.

With a little pity for Etta, she next indulged in a little self-congratulation upon being without fancies and superstitions of any kind. She would fain have dismissed the incident of the morning as a fancy not worth dwelling upon, and returned to her post, had not Etta's next remark given it additional weight and detained her.

"Whatever the subject of conversation, I believe it caused grandpa's illness," said Etta, looking wise and solemn. "There was something odd about the appearance of both of them."

In a moment a dark suspicion crossed Miss Matty's mind. The seizure was sudden; even Dr. Philips thought it might have been caused by a shock. Could it be that Etta herself was the cause? Had she angered him by opposition, or even by a simple refusal to marry his nephew? She startled Etta by observing,

"I suppose it is young Dawson to whom you call yourself engaged? Are you sure it is not a mere schoolgirl flirtation? Though not much in favour of weddings, I would not have you caught up by some penniless adventurer, nor see Deane Hall in the hands of a fortunehunter."

"Nor I. You know I have refused your nephew," replied Etta, with a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

She certainly did not mean all that her words implied. She spoke partly in jest and partly from a wish to prevent the renewal of a subject so unpalatable. The sharp rejoinder, however, took Miss Matty completely aback, for it was precisely her nephew's success in this quarter that lay nearest her heart, and what other marriage could combine so many advantages both for husband and wife?

The thought stirred Miss Rivers into further questioning.

"Why will you not marry Ernest Rivers?" she asked, in a tone of mingled reproach and expostulation. "You owe him that reparation for supplanting him. I do not believe in any serious engagement. You were at school, or had just left it; you could not know what you were doing." "Nor any one else either, for I have done nothing."

"Have you not then engaged yourself, as it is called, to some one ?"

"No."

"Then why not marry Ernest?”

"I don't mean to marry any one."

Nonsense, child! you are not fit to take care of yourself."

Miss Matty could only argue from a prosaic point of view, her unsentimental nature understood no other.

"You have managed to do so for a great many years, and why should not I?" retorted Etta.

The words echoed and re-echoed in Miss Matty's ears. She felt as if she had been struck a sudden blow. What, this little creature-a child in manner and scarcely less so in experience -deliberately to enter into comparison with her, the strong, practical woman who could stand her ground in the storm of life! Offended at the young girl's presumption, her recently-acquired gentleness vanished.

"You!" she exclaimed, in a tone containing a volume of contempt. But she had already repented of her arrogance when Etta, nettled into opposition, rejoined, "Not for all the world would I marry Ernest Rivers!"

IT

CHAPTER XXVII.-THE DREADED MESSENGER.

T was more than dusk when the messenger returned from Deanton, saying that Lawyer Nash was in London, and would not be back before the middle of the week. A change had by this time come over the invalid. His eyes were still closed, but the breathing did not indicate sleep. It was evident that the end was near; the last threads in the strand were fast ravelling out. Ernest and Merry sat beside the bed on one side, and Miss Rivers on the other, all saddened and solemnised by the utter impossibility of bringing any aid to the sufferer, who had entered on the final conflict that must be fought alone, as far as human help is concerned. Not a sound except the stertorian breathing of the dying man was heard, the shadows without grew darker, and the room would have done the same but for the bright flashes of the upleaping flames from the fire on the hearth. Once and again the wind beat against the window with a sharp, quick, rattling noise which made Merry start and turn pale, and drew from Miss Matty a contemptuous remark about superstition. And soon the dusky sky was nearly blotted out by the darkness, and then Miss Matty sent Merry for the lamp.

The house was silent. Now and then a maid on tiptoe made her way to the door and peeped in.

After one of these journeys from the kitchen Mrs. Jukes repaired to Etta's room and finding her without a fire, lighted it herself, an act of unprecedented condescension, followed by another quite as novel. After expressing surprise at Lizzie's want of attention to her young lady, she made Etta a cup of hot tea and brought it to her.

"Some thinks they know on which side their bread is buttered, but they may find themselves mistaken," thought Lizzie, maliciously, as she watched the operation. "I never wish," she said,

46

for a better master than him upstairs. A pity he is going, poor man!"

"Yes, Miss Etta will soon be our mistress," observed Mrs. Jukes.

"Not if I know it. I will never have such a little Hop-o'-my-Thumb as that for mine."

"Well, I suppose you are more free to go than to stay," replied Mrs. Jukes, leaving the room with her tray, satisfied with her Parthian shot.

"What a fool she is!" thought Lizzie. deserves all she will get for her pains."

"She

But at present at least they were not unappreciated. Etta, who after having been for so many weeks an object of care and solicitude, seemed now thrust aside and forgotten, was therefore peculiarly disposed to welcome the attentions of the housekeeper. Besides, they were an earnest of those awaiting her by-and-by, when she meant to be so kind and considerate to every one, not even excepting Lizzie, whom she would crush with her magnanimity. Poor child! She could not help planning for the future even now, though she felt unhappy enough.

46

Another visit to the sick room was out of the question. Those strained eyes still haunted her. If I could but have loved him!" she said over and over again. "It will be so sad to be made rich by his death, and not to mourn him at all. But how can I?"

This for some time was the refrain to her thoughts. She grieved that she could not grieve, but when her material surroundings improved her regret was not so poignant.

Seated in a comfortable chair placed near a bright fire by Mrs. Jukes, the darkening sky excluded by the carefully drawn curtains, she revived under the influence of the tea, and her cheerlessness and depression wore off. She began to anticipate the pleasure of proprietorship. All would be hers-her very own-and she would not give up her power to another; she would not marry Ernest Rivers, and take the second place in the household. She would be the first, the chief, the mistress of all. Miss Matty had depreciated and offended her, but should discover before long that, instead of being a weak, helpless thing, she was a woman, quite capable of taking care of herself. When necessary she would consult a lawyer, as others do-Mr. Nash or Mr. Dawson. She could pay visits to Ethel when she pleased, and they would plan together what was best to be done. Of course Ethel would sometimes come to the Hall; they would visit each other alternately.

Project after project formed itself in that busy little head, and was rapidly woven into a varie

gated web of brilliant colouring as time went by. And no marvel. She had been so unhappy, how much so she only realised now that the heavy pressure was about to be withdrawn.

Etta was now awakened by the entrance of Miss Matty. They had parted in mutual displeasure, but there was no trace of that now on her countenance. She looked pale and sad. Something had happened or was about to happen, but what? Etta's heart stood still with fear. Did Mr. Rivers want her? Must she go into his presence again? Her feet fastened themselves as it were to the ground; she watched Miss Matty approach with dilated eyes, and then hoarsely whispered, "I cannot, I dare not go again, please do not ask me." "There is no occasion. I am come to tell you that my poor brother is no more here."

Though expecting the event, and even calculating upon it, the news came with a shock. It was not hypocrisy but natural emotion that brought the tears to her eyes as she raised them to Miss Rivers, saying, "Poor grandpa! I wanted so much to love him." The next minute she laid her head upon the table and burst into a fit of crying. "Do not think too hardly of me," she added, lifting her tearful face. "I am sorry now I was ever cross and naughty to him. I ought to have helped him. How easy it is to do wrong, and how useless to fret over it afterwards."

An ordinary character might have judged Etta's agitation to be exaggerated if not feigned, but not Miss Matty. She knew something of the inconsistencies of human nature and could understand the girl's present feelings. Her cry might be selfish, but she had uttered her real sorrow, which Miss Rivers was large-hearted enough to respect.

Etta had borne a great crucial test and had come well out of it. From that hour Miss Matty took her into her heart, believing that there were qualities in that little person which might hereafter develop into excellencies.

"We shall be a melancholy pair below this evening, Ernest and I; you will probably prefer remaining where you are. Sarah will wait upon you. For one only convalescent you have had a trying day, indeed I almost doubt if you are convalescent. Dr. Philips will see you when he comes to-morrow," said Miss Matty. The unexplained scene of the morning still ran in her head. The suspicion of Etta's truthfulness having entirely vanished, she returned to the idea that fancied visions were the precursors of illness.

It was late when aunt and nephew finished their evening meal. All had been done that could be done, the bustle of going to and fro had ceased. When Merry had closed the door, the silence that had prevailed throughout the supper was broken by Miss Matty.

"What do you purpose doing, Ernest?"

The young man had drawn his chair to the fire, and was sitting with his hands on his knees, intently watching the rising and falling flames as people are apt to do when troubled in mind. Twice Miss Matty put the question, and then he looked up with a start, saying,

"Going home as soon as Miss Lacy has selected

some one to superintend her affairs-the estate I mean. Mr. Nash will probably know whom to recommend."

"And why should it not be yourself? No one is better fitted to undertake the work."

"Of course she will let the land my uncle kept in his own hands. An agent will collect the rents, and she will appoint some one to receive them and manage for her. There will be no difficulty," he replied, without noticing the suggestion his aunt had made.

“And in the meanwhile ?"

"In the meanwhile anything I can do for her I will. I am not such a cur as to neglect her interests because they are not my own."

"Why not try to unite them ?"

"Aunt Matty! Aunt Matty!" cried the young man, in a tone of indignant reproach. "Is it you, a woman professing to follow the highest standard, who counsel me to tamper with the loyalty of another man's intended wife?"

No, no, nephew, you mistake. I have Etta's own word for it that she has contracted no engagement. She is free I know. But for Matty Rivers to become a match-maker!" she added. "A few months ago I should have pronounced it impossible for me to interest myself in the marriage of any couple. My dear boy," she went on, her voice subsiding into its natural tone, "it is that or poverty with you, and injustice too. You are worse off now than you were before you came to your uncle."

"I know it," returned Ernest.

"Nevertheless

I can take no further steps in the quarter you

wish."

"But this is being perverse, Ernest."

"It may be, but the poor and the nouveaux riches are apt to have strong wills of their own, and Miss Lacy and I are eminently in that category," replied Ernest, prematurely closing the discussion by taking his candle and wishing his aunt "Good night."

"Well, well, he is right there. I will leave him my little property some day, but I would have done the same had he been the master of the Hall."

This resolution quieted Miss Rivers in a degree, though her solid frame and the firm step with which she sought her chamber, after the harrowing events of the day, indicated a state of health that did not augur for her nephew a speedy possession.

There was yet another startling incident to be reported. Before she went to bed a messenger from the vicarage brought the news that Mr. Reade had breathed his last.

Tranquilly and without pain, with the stamp of peace upon his brow, the life of the aged Christian had closed. A man of calm temperament, he was habitually undemonstrative; there had been no ecstacies, neither had there been any clouds. Death had come suddenly upon him.

The two lives that had run side by side for more than half a century finished their course together, but with a painful contrast.

Then it was that Miss Matty broke down and wept like a child.

Tis now forty years ago since that remarkable traveller, Dr. Wolff, the father of Sir Drummond Wolff, M.P., set out to the East to ascertain the fate of two British officers named Stoddart and Connolly, who were reported to have been put to death by the Emir of Bokhara. Passing through Persia, the brave missionary arrived at the Turcoman frontier, where, judging that it would be best to appear in clerical character, he gave himself out to be "the great Dervish of Englistaun," wore his academical gown and hood, and carried a large Bible under his arm. In this costume he crossed the Turcoman desert, and, on arriving at the city of Bokhara, presented his documents from the English and Russian Governments; but he came too late, for the officers had been cruelly put to death, and their would-be deliverer narrowly escaped a similar fate. Since that time no Englishman has entered the Khanate until last year, when Dr. Lansdell, the Siberian traveller, determined, if possible, to return from Russian Central Asia through Bokhara.

Dr. Lansdell having supplied the hospitals and prisons of Siberia with religious reading in 1879, set out last year to attempt the same for Russian Central Asia. To this end he travelled by his old

route as far as Tobolsk, making provision at Tiumen for the distribution, in the future, of Scriptures and tracts to the exiles as they enter Siberia; then turning up the Irtish he steamed to Omsk. Posting on into Chinese territory at Kuldja, he then travelled westwards and came to Tashkent, Khokand, and Samarcand, by which time he had virtually finished the work he had set out to do, and completed his design to supply religious books for every room of every hospital and prison throughout Russia in Asia. The question then arose, how was he to return? Unless he retraced his steps, the only other way by which he could come back on Russian soil was by the line of the Sir Daria, along which, however, the postal service last summer had broken down. determined therefore, if possible, to pass through Bokhara, the Russians giving him something more than mere permission, and furnishing him with a letter to the Emir, and two djiguitts, or mounted attendants, and a Tartar who spoke Russian and Uzbeg. The party, therefore, consisted of five persons, including Dr. Lansdell and his Anglo-Russian interpreter.

He

Had the travellers proceeded by the ordinary route from Samarcand, it would have been

possible to get to Bokhara on wheels; but the Emir stays in the summer at Shehr-i-sabz, the nearest way to which was to descend somewhat south of Samarcand, and then cross a mountain ridge into Bokhariot territory. Mr. Schuyler, in his work on Turkestan, describes the descent by this ridge as so steep that not one of his party could sit their horses to go down. It was, therefore, perhaps not a matter for surprise that when Dr. Lansdell reached the plain he was congratulated by the natives that he had done so safely.

Times have changed since Dr. Wolff's visit to Bokhara; the cruel Nasrullah has been succeeded by his milder son. A party of ambassadors came out from the Emir to receive Dr. Lansdell as an imperial guest, asking for the health of the emperor, for that of the governor-general, and the governor of the neighbouring province, after which these ambassadors, mounted on Turcoman horses with gorgeously embroidered saddle-cloths and dressed in cloth of gold, preceded their guest to the first place of refreshment.

A few hours' ride farther brought the party to Kitab, which is the northern part of Shehr-i-sabz, and where in the fortress the Emir was living. A house had been prepared for the reception of the strangers, not so grand as some in which they were afterwards lodged, but where every attention was paid them. They received food from the Emir's palace, and at night were protected by a guard of thirty soldiers.

It is not according to Bokharian etiquette that guests should be admitted to the presence of the Emir until the third day after their arrival, nor is it considered proper that travellers should go about the town until they have seen the face of the Emir. The party had, therefore, to remain patiently within doors until the third day, the Emir sending many inquiries respecting their health, and how they had slept, and whether they were dull, in which case he would send some people to amuse them. This was done the first evening, and the party were kept awake till nearly midnight by a number of dancing boys, called batchas, whose singing and turning about are gazed at by the Bokhariots with the greatest zest.

On the morning of the third day messengers came to say that the Emir was ready to grant the Englishman an audience. Dr. Lansdell had been advised that it would be unwise to appear in his Majesty's presence in plain clothes, since almost every Russian of position who came to the Emir appeared in uniform and decorated with various tchins, or medals. Dr. Lansdell, moreover, had discovered that Dr. Wolff was not entirely forgotten, as witnessed by the son of the man who saved the missionary's life. It was, therefore, thought better to take a leaf out of his predecessor's book, and to maintain his clerical character, more especially as it was his intention, if possible, to distribute in Bokhara the few copies of the Scriptures that remained to him. Not having, however, his full canonicals, he was obliged to array himself as imposingly as possible under the circumstances. He began by donning his cassock, over which he wore a vest embroidered with gold previously bought as a specimen

of the clothing worn by a Servian gentleman. Over this he wore his scarlet hood, and put round his neck a handsome purple collar, edged with gold, hanging to which were four jewels resembling the medals of Russian officers, and then at the bottom of the collar, à la Dr.Wolff, he suspended a pocket Bible. A college cap completed his costume, and then, mounting his palfrey, he prepared to pass through the streets in the fashion of a man whom the king delighted to honour. Behind him were his Anglo-Russian and Tartar-Uzbeg interpreters, in front his two djiguitts, all mounted, whilst farther in advance were a number of attendants sent by the Emir, and who led the procession. One street after another was traversed, the Asiatics curiously gazing at the strangers. Some rose and stroked their beards, and some gave the Mohammedan salutation-" Salaam aleikum" ("Peace be with you"). On arriving at the fortress the soldiers were drawn up to receive the visitors.

Dismounting at the entrance, and sending his presents before him, Dr. Lansdell was ushered into the presence of the Emir, into a room handsomely carpeted, but otherwise simply-furnished with two chairs, one being for the Emir and the other for his guest, whilst the two interpreters stood between. The interview was not a long one, but was satisfactory, and at the close the visitors were conducted to the apartments of the Emir's ministers to partake of refreshment. The Emir then sent to say that he had examined the presents brought to him with great interest, and shortly afterwards he sent his own presents for Dr. Lansdell, consisting of two horses with turquoise bridles, saddle-cloths of crimson velvet embroidered with silver and gold, and spangles, together with a considerable number of satin, velvet, silk, and cotton khalats, or changes of raiment. With these presents preceding them, the imperial party returned to their lodging, and soon after prepared to leave the town.

The Emir's kindness, however, was not yet exhausted, for he lent one of his carriages, sent to him as a present by the Emperor of Russia, in which Dr. Lansdell and his English interpreter drove as far as Karshi, whither their own carriage had been sent forward, and which was to take them to the city of "Bokhara-al-sherif," or Bokhara the Noble.

Here the traveller stayed some days, housed in one of the best buildings in the city, and treated there, as indeed throughout the whole Khanate, as the Emir's guest.

After leaving Bokhara Dr. Lansdell passed on to the Oxus, down which river he floated for some 300 miles, crossed the desert to the Caspian by a route which we believe no Englishman has followed before, and by the Caucasus made his way to Odessa and so home.

Dr. Lansdell is preparing an account of his travels. He has been heard to say that whilst his intercourse with the wandering Kirghese might remind one of a temporary sojourn in the tents of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, so his stay at Bokhara resembled a visit to one of the kings of Israel.