"Our nearest neighbour-saving the cottagers -was Mr. Cleeve, the largest landowner in those parts. The Cleeve family had lived in the manorhouse for many generations, and if you have any love for tumble-down old mansions, Mrs. Wayne, you would have liked that place. I believe it cost nearly two hundred a year to keep it in repair, but the Cleeves were very proud of their ancestral home, and would not have exchanged it for a palace. Well, it was a grand old house-grey and lichengrown, and overrun with ivy. People said that it was too much shadowed by trees, but I could scarcely think so. I have lain awake there at night, and have heard the great leafy boughs rustling outside the mullioned windows, and I loved the sound."

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And the Cleeves were your friends?"

In a certain way they were. Mr. Cleeve had been at Cambridge with my father, and they kept up the college friendship. There were four children -Percy, William, Horace, and Ellen. It was natural enough that we young people should be on intimate terms. Our mother died when I was only seven years old, and Hester, at sixteen, was mistress of our household. She was always deli

cate, and could not go out visiting as much as I did. Thus it came to pass that I often went to the manor-house without her, and she did not see what was going on until it was too late to stop it."

"I suppose it is the old, old story," said Mrs. Wayne.

"Yes. I had had very little experience of the world, and I never dreamed that Horace's attachment to me could be objectionable to his friends. Percy, as the eldest son, was heir to the manor; William had entered the army; and Horace was destined for holy orders. Archie, my brother, was the companion of all these young men, and yet he was very blind to Horace's preference."

"And it was openly declared?"

"My timidity restrained Horace from making it public at first. I saw that Ellen guessed the state of things, and she opened her mother's eyes. Then, for the first time, I began to see a change in the manner of those two, Ellen and Mrs. Cleeve."

"Then Ellen was not truly your friend?"

"She was willing to be my friend, but nothing

more. And then, too, she had a darling scheme of her own. At that time she had just become engaged to Lord Woodlock, and she wanted Horace to marry his sister, Lady Charlotte. Her head was a little turned by her engagement, for Lord Woodlock was the eldest son of the Earl of Redburn."

"Why would not Lady Charlotte have done for one of her other brothers?"

"Oh, Percy and William were both satisfactorily disposed of, and had betrothed themselves in accordance with the family views. When I found that Ellen and her mother looked coldly on me, Mrs. Wayne, I begged Horace to be silent. But he did not heed me."

It was the more honourable course to speak out."

"He was always honourable. And he asked. the consent of his father and mine. I told you that Mr. Cleeve and the vicar had been very old friends, and just because of that friendship Mr. Cleeve would not say nay, although in his heart I think he did not like the match."

"My father was taken by surprise. He was always absorbed in his parish work, and had not suspected anything. I believe he was unwilling to give his sanction, but Horace and Archie talked him over, and he never had any idea that Mrs. Cleeve and Ellen objected as they did. They were too well-bred to show coldness when the matter was settled. But I could not feel at ease with them.".

"Your brother was on your side?"

"Oh, yes. When Horace had taken him into his confidence he was our ally. He was the means of gaining my father's consent, and he was afterwards the cause of destroying my happiness. I am coming to the painful part of. the story, Mrs. Wayne."

CHAPTER VII.

SYMPATHY.

"You don't regret beginning the tale, Miriam ? ”

OU

"No, O no. It does me good to tell it. What a quiet lane this is! These yellow leaves under our feet, and those rich red beeches, remind me of my last visit to the manor-house. Yes, I will go on, Mrs. Wayne ; it is better to talk than to brood, is it not?

"Far better."

"Our engagement was only two months old when my father died," Miriam continued, in her low sweet voice. "The vicarage was dismantled as soon as possible after the funeral, and Archie took us away to Norwich. Perhaps I was exacting in that time of sorrow, and expected too much from everybody, but it did seem that Mrs. Cleeve and her daughter were colder than ever. Horace