talk, but, of the two, the lady was, as is usual in such cases, the more self-possessed, and, in a gentle way, she presently ventured to banter the lithe artilleryman about his peculiar management of the baby. She would gladly have paid him off too for his trick in the library, but found herself blushing at the very thought of it, and so was unable to speak of it at all.

Mr. Eagle's thoughts were not easily read in his eyes, which caught the light with a white glitter on their surface that prevented you seeing into them; but his smile was speaking, and now as he stood not far from Archer and Miss Edith, he smiled in a not ill-pleased like fashion whilst he marked the frequent kindling of fervour in Calvert's cheek and eye. There was no anxiety in his countenance, but rather an air of quiet satisfaction. Presently his eye met Edith's, with what at least seemed to be a kindly glance of approval and encouragement; and her sweet face might have been seen to brighten the more.

66

Ah, it is already more than a quarter of an hour since my brother sent for me, or rather since I got his message," said Edith, regretfully, as she looked at her watch the next moment.

"Come with me, dear," she added, addressing Miss Grange. "Captain Calvert says he is to be shut up till morning, so there will be no inattention to him in spending the evening with me. Angus will bring us back in time for breakfast, or a little before it, should

you wish that. Will you too come, Polly? My little chaise holds just three, but John can walk home; indeed, he had better do so at any rate."

Polly just then had overheard Mr. Eagle accepting a drive to town in Wilmotte's carriage, from which it was

evident that he no longer thought of going to Beechworth.

"No, thank you," she replied, "I mean to mount guard at Captain Calvert's door to scare the ghosts."

She had no great fancy for dining almost alone with Sir Angus Lockart, whose gravity bored her.

Edith was led off by Archer, and her eyelashes fell before his lingering gaze as he handed her to her seat. As she took the reins from him, after having put on driving-gloves given her by her groom, Calvert did not in the least remember that some three hours before, and on the same spot, he had, with more awe and scarcely less admiration than he now felt, assisted the superb Bracy Lushet into Mary Melville's basket.

CHAPTER XXIII.

"I WONDER What has become of the poor woman with the child?" said Marian to her companion, as they drove off.

"Let us go round by the Gowans' cottage and ask Kate," said Edith.

Kate was standing at her door when they reached it. She had taken Maggie home, she said, and meant to keep her till Pike was brought to reason. While she spoke, Maggie herself came forward with a bright and smiling face. She did not look a bit more ashamed of what she had thought of doing than she looked immediately after the recovery of her infant. She had heard, she said, that the young gentleman was already quite well again, and she was very glad of it. Edith glanced at her kindly, and asked her to bring out the child.

"What did you say, Kate, about Pike being brought to reason?" asked Miss Grange, taking advantage of Maggie's return to the cottage to fetch her baby.

Kate told in a few words what she had overheard in Mrs. Doherty's cottage, and expressed her confidence that in a day or two the widow would be able to take the poor girl in.

Marian and her friend were struck by the generous way in which Kate seemed to have made up her mind

to stand by her rival; and Edith, feeling that she could hardly do enough for one whom Archer had delighted to serve, emptied her purse into her palm, and, offering the contents to Kate, begged that she might be allowed to contribute something to the young mother's support whilst she was disowned by her husband.

Kate drew herself up, and with some dignity declared that Maggie was her, or, at any rate, her mother's guest.

Edith, afraid she had hurt the honest girl's feelings, looked rather confused, and Kate, with ready instinct, observing her difficulty, added,

"The bit sup and bite she'll need are neither here nor there, Miss. Thank ye kindly, a' the same."

Edith, not seeing her way to do otherwise, put the silver into her purse again, resolving that she would arrange with Marian to have it given to Maggie in some inoffensive way.

"What a lovely child!" she exclaimed, when Maggie

came out.

"Isn't it a beauty?" she added, appealing to Marian to prop up a statement which she felt was fully more kind than truthful.

"Poor little thing, how soundly it sleeps! What pretty black hair it has," said Marian, avoiding a direct reply; for she thought the babe rather strong-featured for its age.

"Pike's hair," remarked Kate, not without a flash of anger in her bold eyes.

“Ay, she's rael like Pike,” said Maggie, who did not shudder now at the mention of her husband's name, as she had done before her visit to the top of the hill.

She stood close to Kate, and seemed to feel safe

beside her. That Kate had strength and generosity enough to restore Pike's love to her by some unimagined means, the poor girl, in fact, confidently believed, and this on Kate's own assurance that she could easily bring the scoundrel to his senses.

"We must go now," said Edith, adding, immediately, Remember, Maggie, I shall be very happy to help you in any way."

She was a smart driver, and Scamper, her grey pony, trotted past the noble beeches and along the short linden avenue of her home in little more than ten minutes after she and Marian had bowed their farewells at the Gowans' cottage.

"Ha, there's Duff! I had totally forgotten him," cried Edith, with almost a touch of contrition in her tone.

Duff had risen from his lair near the house door as soon as he heard approaching wheels, and made a step or two forward, barking; but on recognising Scamper, he paused, retreated as far as he had come forward, and then stood silent with a sheepish air.

Edith turned to her companion, smiling.

"Doesn't he look ashamed of himself?" she said. "He must have come home immediately after the accident; and that shows that he really had something to do with it."

Miss Lockart guessed rightly that the prudent Newfoundland had made its way back to Beechworth as soon as it saw what it had done. Duff, in fact, had a lively conscience, and being only a dog, he had not learned to distinguish between the guilt incurred by an injury intentionally and one accidentally inflicted. His gambols had occasioned some terrible mischief, he saw,