His question was rather grave, and the lady's eyes wavered from meeting his. She fidgeted a little.

"Oh, you know best, of course," she said; "I have had very little opportunity-I only judged from the want of seriousness; but that might have been from some other cause. You must excuse me,

if I spoke too frankly."

"You can never do that to me," he said. Balliol. I will take care of her."

"Thank you, sister

Mrs. Balliol was reassured. But neither during their walk home nor ever after, did Mr. Rh-s tell Eleanor of this little bit of talk that had concerned her.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

AT WORK.

My lady comes; my lady goes; he can see her day by day,
And bless his eyes with her beauty, and with blessings strew her way.

HE breakfast-table was as much of a mystery to Eleanor as the

THE

dinner had been. Not because it looked so homelike; though in the early morning the doors and windows were all open and the sunlight streaming through on Mrs. Caxton's china cups and silver spoons. It all looked foreign enough yet, among those palm-fern pillars, and on the Fijian mat with its border made of red worsted ends and little white feathers. The basket of fruit, too, on the table, did not look like England. But the tea was unexceptionable, and there was a piece of fresh fish as perfectly broiled as if it had been brought over by some genius or fairy, smoking hot, from an English gridiron. And in the order and arrangements of the table, there had been something more than native skill and taste, Eleanor was

sure.

"It seems to me, Mr. Rhys," she said, remarkably good cooks!"

"that the Fijians are

"Uncommon, for savages," said Mr. Rhys, with persect gravity. "This fish is excellent."

"There is no better fish-market in the world, for variety and abundance, than we have here."

"But I mean it is broiled just like an English fish. Isaak Walton himself would be satisfied with it."

"Isaak Walton never saw such fishing as is carried on here. The natives are at home in the water from their childhood-men and women both; and the women do a good deal of the fishing. But the serious business is the turtle fishing, It is a hand-to-hand conflict. The men plunge into the water and grapple bodily with the turtle, after they have brought them into an enclosure with their nets.

Four or five men lay hold of one, if it is a large fellow, and they struggle together under water till the turtle thinks he has the worst of the bargain, and concludes to come to the surface."

"Does not the turtle sometimes get the better?" "Sometimes."

"Mr. Rhys, have you any particular duty to-day?"

"I don't see how you can keep up that form of expression," said he, with a comic gravity of dislike.

"Why not?"

"It is not treating me with proper confidence."

Her look in reply was so pretty, both blushing and winsome, that the corners of his mouth were obliged to give way.

"You know what my first name is, do you not?" "Yes," said Eleanor.

"The people about call me 'Misi Risi.' I am not going to have my wife a Fijian to me."

The lights on Eleanor's face were very pretty. With the same contained smile he went on.

"I gave you my name yesterday. It is yours to do what you like with; but the greatest dishonour you can show to a gift, is not to use it at all."

"That is the most comical putting of the case that ever I heard," said Eleanor, quite unable to retain her own gravity.

"Very good-sense," said Mr. Rhys, with a dry preservation of his.

"But, after all," said Eleanor, "you gave me your second name, if you please; I do not know what I have to do with the first."

"You do not? Is it possible you think your name is Henry or James, or something else? You are Rowland Rhys as truly as I am -only you are the mistress and I am the master."

Eleanor's look went over the table with something besides laughter in the brown eyes, which made them a gentle thing to

see.

"Mr. Rhys, I am thinking what you will do to this part of you to make it like the other."

He gave her a glance, at which her eyes went down instantly. "I do not know," he said, with infinite gravity. "I will think about it. Preaching does not seem to do you any good."

Eleanor bent her attention upon her bread and fruit. He spoke next with a change of tone, giving up his gravity. "Do you know your particular duty to-day?"

"I thought," said Eleanor, "that as yesterday you showed me the head-carpenter, perhaps this morning you would let me see the chief-cook."

"That is not the first thing. You must have a lesson in Fijian ; now that I hope you are instructed in English."

He carried her off to his study to get it. The lesson was a matter of amusement to Mr. Rhys, but Eleanor set herself earnestly to learn. Then he said he supposed she might as well see her establishment at once, and took her out to the side of the house where she had not been.

It was a plantation wilderness here, too, though particularly devoted to all that in Fiji could belong to a kitchen-garden. English beans and peas had been sown, and were flourishing; most of the luxuriance that met the eye had a foreign character. Beautiful order was noticeable everywhere. Mr. Rhys seemed to have forgotten all about the servants; he pleased himself with leading Eleanor through the walks and showing her which were the plants of the yam and the kumera and other native fruits and vegetables. Bananas were here, too, and the graceful stems of the sugar-cane; and overhead the cocoanut-trees waved their feathery plumes in the air. "Who did all this?" Eleanor asked admiringly.

"Solomon-with a head-gardener over him." "Solomon is-I saw him yesterday?"

"Yes. He came with me from Vulanga. He is a nice fellow. He is a Christian, as I told you, and a true labourer in the great vineyard. I believe he never misses an opportunity to speak to his countrymen in a quiet way and tell them the truth. He has brought a great many to know it. In my service he is very faithful." "No wonder this garden looks nice," said Eleanor.

"I asked Solomon one day about his religious experience. He said he was very happy; he had enjoyed religion all the day. He said he rose early in the morning and prayed that the Lord would greatly bless him and keep him; and that it had been so, and generally was so when he attended to religious duties early in the morning. But if I neglect and rush into the world,' he said, 'without properly attending to my religious duties, nothing goes right. I am wrong in my own heart, and no one round me is right.'

"Good testimony," said Eleanor. "Is he your cook as well as your gardener ?"

"I had forgotten all about the cook," said Mr. Rhys. "Come and see the kitchen."

Near the main dwelling-house, in this planted enclosure, were several smaller houses. Mr. Rhys at last took Eleanor that way and permitted her to inspect them. The one nearest the main building was fitted up for a laundry. The furthest was a sleeping house for the servants. The middle one was the kitchen. It was a Fijian kitchen. Here was a large fireplace of the original fashion which had moved Eleanor's wonder in the dining-room; with a Fijian framework of wood at one side of it, holding native vessels of pottery, larger and smaller, and variously shaped, for cooking purposes. Some more homelike iron utensils were to be seen also; with other kitchen appurtenances, water-jars and so forth. A fire had been in the fireplace, and the signs of cookery were remaining; but in all the houses, nobody was anywhere visible.

"Solomon is gone to collect your servants," said Mr. Rhys. "That explains the present solitude."

"Did he cook that fish?"

“I have not tried him in cooking,” said Mr. Rhys, with a gravity that was perfect. "I do not know what he could do if he was tried?"

"Who did it then?"

His smile was wonderfully pleasant-now that it could be no longer kept back-as he answered, "Your servant."

"You, Rowland! And the dinner yesterday?"

"Do not praise me," he said with the same look, "lest I should spoil the dinner to-day. I do not expect there will be anybody here till afternoon.

"Then you shall see what I can do.” "I do not believe you know how.

the wilderness to learn all trades.

at Wiglands."

"But at Plassy I did."

I have been long enough in

You never learned how to cook

"Did aunt Caxton let you into her kitchen?"

66 'Yes."

"I shall not let you into mine."

"She went with me there. I have not come out here to be useless. I will take care of the dinner to-day."

"No, you shall not," said Mr. Rhys, drawing her away from the kitchen. "You have got enough to do to-day in unpacking boxes. There will be servants this evening to attend to all you want; and for the present you are my care."

"Rowland, I should like it."