the cross, and reaching up with her chalice | is the good of all these arts? Could such to receive the blood from Christ's wounded work supply the deficiencies of Christian side, while the Virgin and St. John stand at a distance to the right and left." souls, or compensate for the poverty of worship?" And he answers it as follows: The refinement of taste and labor be- "In the privacy of communion between stowed upon such works as these shows, the spirit of man and the spirit of his as the author says, "how deeply pene- Maker, no; but as 'a tribute of reasonable trated Christendom was with the beauty service from humanity to God,' yes." of idea which pervaded the history and Lastly, he raises the inquiry, "What is doctrines of the faith;" and the enthusi-wanted in religious art?" and in the course asm of artistic life which characterized of his answer, which is continued to the the "great architectural age of the twelfth end of the essay, he states that and thirteenth centuries resembles the sudden burst of joy and beauty to which the world awakes, when, in April, nature breaks the bonds of winter with the rush of her irrestrainable life." This is followed by a passage which happily describes the spirit of the age when sculpture and painting worked in entire sympathy with architecture, and produced "a grand and reposeful unity of effect." Mr. Gambier Parry raises the question, "how far we, at the present day, should resort to old styles in applying decorative arts to sacred buildings." And he justly remarks that the question is not to be settled off-hand. "Those styles represent intelligent principles," and "grew naturally in the atmosphere of national life." He shows how and under what circumstances the noblest works of art were created, and how the various "styles and characters of art mark the stages of national culture, and are the turns and idioms of its phrase ology." He points out the futility of condemning ornament on the ground of its being conventional. Conventionality is not to be confounded with the blemishes of an undeveloped art. Modern art has erred on the side of naturalism. Ancient art was conventional; but it "was as complete as it was simple.” "Whatever it may be called, the monumental,' or the 'sculpturesque,' or the 'heroic' style, its genius must be awakened, if ever the great art of painting is to rise again to its level of full honor, and to be again what once it was a power of abstract and ideal expression, in harmony with that greatest creation of man's genius, architecture." Mr. Gambier Parry passes in review the early decorative works abroad, in the south and east and north of Europe, and then comes to England, where the Lombard Archbishop Lanfranc gave the first important impulse to art. "Now those arts have been long at rest." After an eloquent passage, deploring the "sad scenes of desolation, where passion and neglect have wrought an equal ruin," Mr. Gambier Parry asks: "What only in the quietude of a contemplative spirit can a work of really religious art be conceived. In our crowded cities or unquiet homes it is to those sacred fanes that architecture has raised among them that men owe the precious opportunities of spiritual rest. A nation's temples have ever been the centre of the nation's arts. The history, the poetry, the religion of the world have been written in them. The power and devotion of human genius have been lavished upon them, the tion's faith. Former generations have come most pure and favorite handmaids of a naand have passed away. It is now our day. The unceasing stream flows by us now, and for our short life we direct its current. arts are in our hands, to use or to misuse them. Our honor in them will depend upon our motive; and whatever our works may be, we shall live in them to all time-for contempt or for gratitude. The This is the view taken by the author of the province of art, of its duties and responsibilities, and of its relation to the spiritual life of man. No one can find fault with the essays for lack of enthusiasm, or for the absence of a high sense of responsibility for artistic gifts. Their merits far outweigh their deficiencies, some of which we have pointed out — consisting mainly in the careless construction of sentences and misspelling of words. There are few men living who can bring to the work of art-teaching so much knowledge, so sound a judgment, so much prac tical acquaintance with methods of painting, and with the proper relation of decorative art to architecture, and, above all, so high and religious a sense of the relation of art to Christianity, as Mr. Gambier Parry. We had hoped to notice in this place the congenial work which we have placed at the head of this article, Sir Henry Layard's most valuable and novel edition of Kugler's "History of Painting," full of original matter and criticism, but our limits forbid, and we must content ourselves with bearing our testimony to its great value and interest as a fresh contribution to the history of art. From Good Words. BY W. E. NORRIS. CHAPTER XLIV. MONCKTON IS RATHER RUDE. BRIAN spent a very long and very dreary evening all by himself at the Royal Hotel, his solitude only being invaded for a short time by Mr. Petherick, who was respectfully inquisitive, as before. Mr. Petherick hoped he had enjoyed his walk to Beckton, and had found Mr. Gilbert "I should say the squire; but there! I never can bring my tongue to it somehow " pretty well. Might he make so bold as to ask whether Mr. Gilbert felt confident | about the election? He did hear, but for his part he paid no heed to such talk, that some of the voters was uncommon bitter against the squire, "through Miss Greenwood being so much the favorite, you see, sir, and well deserved, I'm sure." He trusted, however, that there would be no rioting or throwing of stones to bring discredit upon the place. "And what I always says is, there's two sides to every story, and we didn't ought to be in such a hurry to judge. And as for what has been spoke of in my hearing about the Manor House property, and Mr. Buswell being determined to get a hold of it, and the way as he thinks as it'll come into his hands -why, I should be ashamed to repeat such things to you, sir. No, sir, I really couldn't repeat 'em - - not if you was to beg me to it." a sanguine mood that he set forth to walk to Beckton on the following morning. If rumor was to be credited, he could hardly expect that Gilbert would look with favor upon his project of buying back the Manor House. However, the attempt had to be made; and in any case he must see his brother, if only to dissuade him from taking any measures of retaliation against the bellicose Mitchell. He did not, as on the previous day, adopt a circuitous route, so that, after mounting the hill, he found himself close to St. Michael's Church and vicarage, and, being there, it seemed worth while to ask whether Monckton was at home. He had no intention of leaving Kingscliff without having shaken hands with his old friend; perhaps too he thought it would be.bracing to exchange a few words with an honest man. Monckton was not only at home but alone. As Brian entered his study he looked up from the papers with which his table was littered and exclaimed, "This is better than I expected! I was wondering when you meant to answer my letter; but I would rather see your face than your handwriting any day. Sit down, my dear fellow, and make yourself comfortable, and tell me all about your musical triumphs. I have only heard the most meagre details as yet." Oh, well," said Brian, seating himself sideways upon the table and swinging one of his long legs, "there isn't a great deal to tell. The opera succeeded, and it wasn't much of an opera, and -and that's about all, I think. At least, that isn't quite all, because I believe that my suc cess is likely to be in a sort of way permanent. I mean it's open to me to do the same thing over again; and people who ought to know tell me that I shall make money without any difficulty now. That's something to be thankful for as far as it goes." "It goes a long way, Brian. Haven't you found that out yet?" Brian did not get rid of the exasperating man until all that Kingscliff was saying about his brother and Miss Huntley had been made known to him, with what Mr. Petherick doubtless imagined to be extreme delicacy. It was not much more than he already knew or suspected; he had not been able to credit Gilbert even with the poor excuse of having transferred his affections from one lady to another; but it was painful to him that the truth about this sorry business should be made the subject of clumsy ridicule. Where money is concerned rustics are apt to be more cynical than dwellers in cities. It was easy to gather from Mr. Petherick's remarks that Miss Huntley was regarded by the Kingscliffians as a dupe, and that their indignation against Gilbert for his perfidy was tempered by a certain respect for his supposed astuteness. Not much sleep did Brian get in the huge four-poster "I don't know; but I presume that she which was said to have given satisfaction will after well, after she is married. to Sir John Pollington, nor was it in at all | Monckton, old man, I am sure you know "Oh, yes; I know it's useful. In fact I mean, if I can, to make use of it forth. with. Do you know why I came down here, Monckton? But you would never guess; and I expect you'll think me rather a fool when I tell you. I want to buy the Manor House back." "But Monckton raised his eyebrows. surely Miss Huntley doesn't think of parting with it, does she?" he asked. why Gilbert backed out of his engagement would just see Gilbert and sound him to poor little Kitty Greenwood; and you upon the subject." know too how I used to feel about Miss Huntley. I shall get over that by-and-by, I hope; I see now that she isn't what I thought she was, and I might have seen it before if I hadn't chosen to keep my eyes shut. In the mean time I don't want to talk about her. As for the Manor House, I don't see why they should wish to keep the place, and I have scarcely spent a shilling of the money that I received for it. You know, Monckton, I never did like parting with the old house." "Well, but assuming that Miss Huntley will be willing to sell, don't you think she may expect some return for what she has laid out on her property since she came into possession of it?" Brian's face fell a little. "I didn't think of that," he confessed. “However, I suppose I might raise something on a mortgage, mightn't I?" Monckton smiled and shook his head. "Brian," said he, "however long you may live, and whatever experiences you may pass through, you will remain sublimely indifferent to expenditure to the end of your days. I don't admire you for it; you ought to know better by this time." "I don't think I'm as extravagant as I used to be," answered Brian meekly. "I have learnt all sorts of economical dodges, and I can live upon very little nowadays. Of course it sounds insane to invest all one's capital in the purchase of a place that one can't afford to inhabit, but surely you wouldn't advise me to look on quietly while Buswell grabs the Manor House and tears it to pieces." "I am not convinced that Mr. Buswell will be allowed to grab the Manor House; my impression is that Miss Huntley is as little anxious as you are to hand it over to him. Your brother might perhaps; but even if he marries Miss Huntley the Manor House won't belong to him. There is such a thing as a Married Woman's Property Act, you must remember." "If she marries Gilbert she will dispose of her property in any way that may please him," Brian declared confidently. "After all the sacrifices that she has made for him it isn't likely that she will care to dispute with him about comparative trifles." "I should not have imagined her so superior to all compromise; but if it be so, you won't do much good by applying to her now, will you?" "Oh, I didn't mean to apply to her, directly," answered Brian; "I thought I According to you, that will be rather a waste of breath. Your view is that he is about to marry a very rich woman, therefore it would hardly be for the sake of the purchase money that he would urge her to sell a part of her property to Mr. Buswell. Would it make you very angry, Brian, if I were to say that I doubt very much whether your purpose in coming here was to open negotiations for the recovery of the Manor House?" "As if anything that you could say would make me angry, Monckton! But if you doubt my having come here for that, what in the world do you suppose that I have come for? It isn't over and above pleasant for me to be here just now, I can assure you." "Why, I think," answered Monckton, smiling, "that you are here because you don't in the least believe all the rumors that have reached you, and because you want to satisfy yourself that they are untrue. And, between you and me, I don't believe them either."" "No wonder you don't!" sighed Brian. "I only wish I could disbelieve them, but unfortunately I can't. I heard from her own lips in London that " He broke off suddenly and, pointing to the window, exclaimed, "Mercy upon us, look there!" Monckton, who had risen just in time to catch a glimpse of Miss Huntley herself, advancing composedly towards the door, began to laugh at Brian's dismayed countenance. "Don't be so alarmed," said he; "she is not likely to come in, and if she does she won't eat you." But Brian had already clutched his hat, and was preparing for flight. "I can't meet her, Monckton," he said hurriedly; I'll slip out by the back way. Good-bye for the present; we shall meet again before I leave, I hope." And without more ado he took to his heels. The smile had not quite faded from Monckton's face when Miss Huntley was announced. She looked a little embarrassed and also rather cross. "Am I violating etiquette?" she asked. "I suppose I am; but it can't be helped. I went to church, hoping to catch you as you came out; but I found a tiresome little curate on duty, so, as I didn't want to have my walk for nothing, I proceeded here and demanded admission. Since you won't come and see me, I must come and see you." "Please sit down," said Monckton. "I can't often find time for paying visits; but | You see, Miss Huntley, in my trade it is I need not say that I am quite at your ser- necessary to study human nature, and vice whenever you want me.' "I quite understand; that is a polite way of saying 'What is your business?' I won't keep you long, I only wish to ask you one or two questions. First of all, I should like you to tell me - and I know you will answer honestly what you think of the way in which I have been turning things topsy-turvy this autumn." "I am not sure that I am quite in a position to judge," replied Monckton, "but as far as I can understand your intentions, they have been good. I must confess that your way of carrying them out seems to me to have been both wrong and foolish." She drew a long breath. "Well," she said, "I am glad that you give me credit for good intentions, at any rate. You are the first person who has had the common intelligence to see that much, and I dare say you will be the last. Naturally you wouldn't approve of my method, but really, if you will think of it, no other method was open to me, and it has at least the merit of having been completely successful." "Has it?" "Well, hasn't it? I have saved Kitty Greenwood from binding herself for life to a man who is, upon the whole, the most despicable specimen of humanity that I have ever encountered.' "Yes, that is your opinion of him, only it wouldn't have been hers if she had married him. Nobody likes and respects Miss Greenwood more than I do; but I don't think she possesses much insight into character, and I fancy that her husband's faults would have to be very conspicuous indeed before she could be made to recognize them. I will admit that I am glad she is not going to marry him; nevertheless, I am not in the least sure that he would have made her unhappy. A nice nest of hornets the world would become if we all insisted upon choosing our friends' husbands and wives for them." "There is no danger of such a catastrophe. Most people are a great deal too selfish to lay themselves open to abuse and slander for the sake of their friends. Besides, once does not make a rule, and I shall always think that in this particular instance interference of any kind was justifiable. How you can say that Kitty would have had even a chance of being happy with that wretch passes my comprehension." "I shouldn't say it if I didn't think it. after a time one gets to understand the meaning of certain common symptoms. Now, I should never dream of classing this man Segrave among the hopeless cases if indeed there be any hopeless cases. I believe that a good wife might have done much for him; for he is still young, he is quite capable of shame, and, from what I have seen, I doubt whether his efforts at humbugging himself have been very successful." "See what comes of looking at things from a professional point of view! You speak quite cheerfully of sacrificing the good wife; you are like those doctors who don't mind torturing hundreds of animals upon the off chance of prolonging one or two, probably worthless, human lives. I don't know, I'm sure, whether your interesting patient is capable of repentance or not; but I do know and so do youthat he is capable of defrauding his brother, breaking his promises to his father, pretending to hold political opinions which he doesn't really hold, and sneaking out of a marriage engagement in the hope of making a more profitable one. You may possibly understand how to deal with such cases better than I do; but it does seem to me that a good wholesome dose of punishment is the most promising thing to begin with. Meanwhile, I decline to be a party to any experiments in vivisection for his benefit." Monckton smiled, but made no reply. If his studies of human nature had taught him nothing else, they had most likely convinced him that argument with irate ladies is seldom profitable. Presently Beatrice went on, in a much more conciliatory tone, and even with a touch of timidity: "Mr. Monckton, I want you to do something for me, if you will; I want you to make peace between Kitty and me. I suppose she is very angry with me now-perhaps you know that she is?" "I don't think she is best pleased with you," answered Monckton; "it would be rather strange if she were, wouldn't it?" "Yes; but I always thought that as soon as she knew the truth she would understand, and now I am afraid well, I had better tell you that Mr. Segrave called upon me yesterday and did me the great honor to offer me his hand and heart. I made him the answer that you may imag ine, and then, among other insolent and detestable things, he said that nobody would ever believe I had done all that Í "But you at least saw for you said So that my intentions were good, and if you were to explain that to Kitty, she would believe you." "Perhaps she would. I suppose I may tell her with truth that you had no other object than her welfare ?" "You don't mean to imply that you doubt it, I hope?" Well, you know, Miss Huntley, you said something about punishment just now." "Oh, I throw you in the punishment; far be it from me to deny that I thoroughly enjoyed punishing Mr. Segrave.” But what for? Not for an offence which he had not yet committed and which you were trying to make him commit, I presume? I wouldn't for the world suggest such a thing to Miss Greenwood; but it may occur to her that you were more anxious to avenge Brian upon his brother than to rescue her. It is so easy to misinterpret motives. I can even imagine her turning your own surgical illustration against you, and I don't see what rejoinder you could make, except the one which I didn't make to you- namely, that it doesn't happen to apply. Such rejoinders are not very convincing." "I am glad that you have said that, Mr. Monckton," cried Beatrice, rising and turning a face of calm fury upon her interlocutor; "I am very glad that you have said it, because it gives me an opportunity of telling you that I perfectly understand your insinuation (though I must own that you are the last person in the world from whom I should have expected to hear it), and that it is as devoid of any shadow of excuse as any insinuation can possibly be. Mr. Segrave was pleased to give utterance to it yesterday, and it would be just like him to repeat it to his brother, who, I am told, has suddenly made his appearance here. Not for any man living would I go through one-tenth of the annoyance and humiliation that I have submitted to since the summer, and most certainly not for Mr. Brian Segrave, whom I used rather to like at one time, but whom I have since found to be not at all the sort of person whom one would care to make a friend of. I sincerely hope that I shall not see him while he is here." Perhaps you won't," observed Monckton quietly. "At all events, I can answer for it that he is not anxious to see you; for he was sitting with me just now, and the moment that he caught sight of you approaching he jumped up and fled through the back door. I don't know whether anything that he may hear from his brother will cause him to change his mind; but. "It is a matter of complete indifference to me whether he changes his mind or not," interrupted Beatrice; "but it might be a kindness on your part to warn him that anything which his brother says is pretty sure to be false. I must not take up your time any longer now." "Have I offended you by what my insinuation ?" you call "Oh, no, not at all. I think it was rather rude; but never mind; I don't mean to quarrel with you, Mr. Monckton, whatever you may say to me. Perhaps you will look in upon me some eveningafter you have seen the Greenwoods.' "I will not fail to do so," answered Monckton. And after he had seen her to the door, he sat down in his armchair and laughed softly. sure. "So I am to tell Brian that there is no sort of hope for him," thought he. "That was what she came here for, I suppose; because she does not really need my intervention to set matters straight between her and Miss Kitty. Well, I shall not deliver her message, though it would serve her right if I did. She really has behaved in a most inexcusable manner; and yet she was perfectly sincere, I am There is a determined self-reliance about her, too, which is rather fine in in its way and only wants directing. What a time she must have had of it during the last three months, with everybody against her and her conscience not quite at ease, and probably with a strong suspicion that her own happiness was at stake! Yes; all things considered, Brian is a fortunate fellow." CHAPTER XLV. THE LAST STRAW. FROM the earliest times even until now a man who has received a blow without avenging it has been held to be a man deserving, perhaps, of pity, but certainly of contempt. Under the somewhat anomalous social code which prevails in our own country at the present day it may be safely asserted that there is one course, and only one for those who have been assaulted to pursue, and that is to hit their assailant back again as hard and as |