And thus, when Willie went away, with | ing themselves in so much more generous a heart full of joy and thankfulness, he was and unselfish a light than she herself was able to say to himself that his future doing? She turned pale and bit her lips mother-in-law was one of the best and with vexation; she made a gallant effort kindest of women. It is not everybody to congratulate Willie and to assure him who can think of his mother-in-law in that that if he was happy she was satisfied; way, and our hero cheerfully acknowledged but her congratulations had no ring of his great good luck. To be sure, he sincerity, and her dissatisfaction was not might, if his temperament had been less to be concealed. She was obliged to say amiable and his spirits less high, have at last that Laura Wetherby's generosity reflected that, by way of compensation, was perhaps not quite as striking as it he was not precisely lucky in his mother; might appear. but of course it never occurred to him to admit that ungenerous thought. Indeed, he went so far as to count in advance upon his mother's sympathy- which was certainly somewhat over-sanguine on his part. He reached home only just in time to dress for dinner; so that his first opportunity of imparting the great news to her came later in the evening, when her husband, who had been virtuously employed all day in making studies for a new pic ture, started for the club to enjoy a little well-earned relaxation. "You see, my dear Willie, she must know perfectly well that all this talk about your being a poor man is really nonsense. George wouldn't have disinherited you in any case, and as soon as he hears that you are going to marry an earl's daughter he will hasten to show that earls and countesses can't outdo him in magnanimity. The whole thing is a farce. However, I don't want you to think me unkind. What must be must, and I will try to like Lady Evelyn for your sake, though I am afraid she will never like me. Only I can't pretend to be jubilant or to be grateful to her for her condescension in accepting youfaute de mieux." If Willie had not possessed one of the sweetest dispositions that ever mortal man was blessed with, he would have lost his temper and told his mother some wholesome truths. He did neither the one nor the other; but he was hurt, and could not speak as he would have liked to speak. One may make great allowance for the jealousy of those who love us; yet it is scarcely possible to conciliate them while jealousy distorts their whole mental vision. He could only trust to time for the bringing about of a happier state of things. Lady Wetherby, who called on the following day to talk matters over with her old friend, was a good deal less forbearing. Lady Wetherby (and small blame to her!) thought that she was behaving very handsomely, and had been prepared to receive such acknowledgment of her handsome behavior as was her due; so that it was not a little provoking to her to find herself confronted by a grumbling, disconsolate woman, who would say no more than that she was resigned to the inevitable. "Oh, I thoroughly understand that from your point of view the match isn't exactly a desirable one, Laura," Mrs. Archdale was pleased to admit; "but that doesn't make it a desirable one from mine. It isn't only that Willie is much too young to marry, but I know perfectly well that in giving him up to your daughter I am now.' giving him up altogether and finally, be- | and commonplace, as — as most people cause she has never made any secret of are, perhaps — I shouldn't be so miserable her aversion for me. Naturally, I don't enjoy that prospect." "What nonsense ! "exclaimed Lady Wetherby. "Evelyn has no more feeling or aversion for you than I have, and men who can afford to marry always do marry sooner or later. The sooner the better, I should be inclined to say. And I must confess I think that a mother who was really fond of her son would be only too delighted to hear that he had been successful with the girl upon whom he had set his heart." She really was miserable. Lady Wetherby, notwithstanding some pardonable irritation, perceived that, and was not cruel enough to point out what she perceived quite as clearly, namely, that Marcia did not so much as understand the meaning of love. There are plenty of human beings whose passions and affections, strong though they may be, are purely subjective in nature, and any endeavor to convince such persons of selfishness would be as futile as the attempt to "Oh, yes, that would be your way of persuade a man with no musical ear that looking at it, no doubt. It is the usual there is an excruciating difference beand conventional way. But I suppose | tween G natural and G flat. It was someWillie has been more to me than most what trying to be compelled to take up an sons are to their mothers. I have been apologetic tone instead of nobly disclaim parted from him all these years, and now, just when he seemed to be coming back to me again, I must lose him- and forever! There is no help for it; he obeys his natural instincts, and I am not entitled to complain. Only you must not ask me to jump for joy." "I'm sure nobody wants you to jump, Marcia," returned Lady Wetherby, losing all patience; "if anything in the world is wanted of you, it is only that you should try to realize the existence of other people, whose happiness is probably as important to them as yours is to you." Marcia melted into tears. 66 Happiness!" she ejaculated "happiness and I parted company a very long time ago. It seems to me that everybody has entered into a league to make me appear odious. That has been George's and Caroline's object all along, and certainly they have managed to achieve it. It looks as if I had extorted money from Willie and had caused his uncle to cast him adrift; it looks as if I were opposing his marriage, and as if I didn't care what became of him so long as I could keep him with me for the rest of my life. Yet none of these things are true. Was it to please myself, do you think, that I surrendered him to the Bretts? Was it to please myself that I asked him for a loan of a few thousand pounds? And should I have done such a thing, even to save Cecil and myself from ruin, if I had not been as certain as I sit here that George's menaces were mere idle vaporing? But I suppose it is useless and hopeless to undertake my own de fence. All my life long it has been the same story; my mistake has been in loving those whom I have loved too much. If I had been ordinary and reasonable ing all desire to be met with apologies; "Oh, well," said Lady Wetherby, laughing and shrugging her shoulders, "since you are both so obstinate there is nothing to be done with you, I'm afraid. Still, I trust you will bear in mind that for the future there will be at least one person who will have more claim upon you than your mother." Willie nodded. "I can't give what I haven't got," he replied, "but, indeed, I don't think my mother will ever apply to me again; only I mustn't bind myself to let her starve, you see." He despatched his communication the same evening; but before there had been time for him to receive an answer by post. a telegram reached him from Sir George SIR GEORGE'S LAST CONCESSION. EVER since the days of Æsop, and doubtless during the many centuries which preceded the birth of that moralist, people who have fallen into the habit of crying "Wolf!" have had to suffer the penalty of being disbelieved when the wolf has at length reached their door, and Marcia had every excuse for surmising that her sister-in-law was no nearer death now than she had been a dozen times before. Nevertheless, Lady Brett's doctor could have told her that for some time past his patient's life had not been worth a year's purchase. Willie, who was more or less aware of this, did not share his mother's incredulity, and, as he journeyed towards London, his soft heart was full of sorrow in which there was a touch of quite uncalled-for remorse. In reality his conduct as a nephew had been irreproachable; yet it was natural enough that he should accuse himself of ingratitude, for his aunt had certainly been fonder of him than he had ever been of her. Nobody, perhaps, could have contrived to be very fond of Lady Brett, whose defects were of a kind more repul. sive to ordinary human nature than those of less deserving persons; it is, no doubt, far easier to sympathize with an interesting sinner than with a dull and self-righteous saint. But characters are, for the most part, created by circumstances, and she might possibly have been an altogether different woman if her parents had not happened to be narrow-minded, big. oted people, or even if she had had children of her own. At any rate, she had been a good friend to Willie; she had more than once averted collisions between him and his uncle, and it grieved him to think that he must disappoint her upon what might very likely prove to be her death-bed by refusing to grant the request which he was pretty sure that she intended to make. Although he could not promise to abstain from aiding his mother in the event of her becoming destitute, his common sense told him that the exaction of such a promise was not wholly unjustifiable. As matters turned out, however, he was spared any pain that his aunt could have inflicted upon him; for when he arrived at Blaydon Hall, the butler, who admitted him, shook his head and said, We "You're too late, Master Willie; her ladyship passed away quite quiet and easy soon after the middle of the day. none of us thought the end was so near; but the doctor he told me the wonder was she'd lasted so long. I wish you could have been here yesterday, sir." "I am very, very sorry," said Willie, truthfully enough. "I had no idea that she was dangerously ill until I got my uncle's telegram, and then I started by the first train. How is he, Benson ?" "Well, sir, he do seem to take on more than I should have expected," answered the man candidly. "Sir George was never one to show much affection, not so far as words go; but he's always been what I call a domestic man, and I dessay he feels terrible lonesome now. I hope you ain't a-going to desert him in his old age, Master Willie-if you'll excuse the liberty of my saying so." Benson, who for many years past had been accustomed to take any liberties that he saw fit to take with the heir-presumptive, was evidently aware of the existence of strained relations between that young man and the head of the house; still it was impossible to discuss these with him, and Willie made no reply. "Do you think my uncle would like to see me?" he asked, after a pause. Benson said he would inquire, and, having done so, presently returned with an affirmative answer. "Sir George is in the libery, sir. He ain't had nothink to eat since breakfast, and he won't give no orders; but if you was to tell him you was tired and hungry after your journey, maybe he'd take some dinner with you. Come to his time of life, 'tis foolishness to go to bed upon an empty stomach, you see." Willie found his uncle looking very old, shaken, and subdued. The butler's description of Sir George was as accurate as the descriptions which servants give of their masters generally are; he was not a particularly affectionate man, but he was On her decease this amount would cease to be payable, because I really do not see why I should provide for Mr. Archdale. In return I will merely ask you to give me your word of honor which I know will be kept that your mother shall receive no more gifts or loans of money from you. If you agree, I will gladly make such provisions for you and your wife as I told Lady Wetherby that I would make; but if you decline, I must wash my hands of you. I sha then have done all that your aunt's kindness prompted her to wish that I should do." essentially domestic, and he fully realized | trustees a sum sufficient to produce the that his wife's death had left him alone in same annual amount for her benefit. the world. However, he had nothing to say about that aspect of the blow which had fallen upon him, nor did he make any allusion to the news of Willie's engagement to Lady Evelyn Foljambe. He was an old-fashioned Philistine of the evangelical variety of that species, and probably he thought that at such a time it would be indecent to do so. For the same reason, no doubt, he was sitting with the family Bible open upon the table before him, and from it he quoted certain passages which seemed to be appropriate to the occasion. Willie could not persuade him to enter the dining-room; but he consented, by way of compromise, to have some food sent in to him upon a tray. He then thought it necessary to mention the arrangements that he had made with the undertaker and the date which had been decided upon for the funeral; after which he expressed a wish to be left alone. During the next few days Willie saw very little of him, but gathered from some hints which he let fall in one of their interviews that he desired to maintain a sort of truce until Lady Brett's remains should have been deposited in the churchyard, and the blinds at Blaydon Hall should have been once more drawn up. He gave it to be understood that, after that, it would be his duty to deal briefly with matters pertaining to this present world. And indeed it must be confessed that he lost no time in discharging that duty. When the last rites had been performed, and when the few persons who had been invited to attend them had gone away, Sir George drew his nephew into the dark little room which he called his study, and having requested him to take a chair, began, Now this was undoubtedly a generous proposal, and Willie understood that its generosity was not of a pecuniary kind alone; yet he was less sensible of that than of what seemed to him to be the insulting assumption that his mother could be and must be bought off. In her name as well as his own, he gravely thanked his uncle, but made so bold as to assert that she would not accept the bribe held out to her. "She will accept it," returned Sir George, with calm confidence, "unless she thinks that she may do better for herself by refusing it. In all probability, however, she will not care to play so risky a game. The question is whether, if she does accept, you will make the promise that I ask for." "Oh yes, in that case I would make the promise," answered Willie, "but I don't think the case will arise. If you would only believe it, Uncle George, money isn't the first and last consideration with everybody. Look at Lady Wetherby for instance you'll allow that she has proved herself to be disinterested." Sir George smiled. "My dear boy," he answered, "I have no quarrel with Lady Wetherby, who, I dare say, is as disinterested as she can afford to be; but I doubt whether she or your mother gave me credit for having strength of mind enough to keep my word. Well, they were right, you see; although I should certainly have kept it if your aunt had not interceded on your behalf." I have a proposition to make to you, Willie. I make it, I will own, with some degree of reluctance; but I make it in deference to the wishes of one whom we have lost and who was dear to us both. Your poor aunt urged upon me repeatedly that I should, at the price of a sacrifice which she considered that I might easily make, reinstate you upon your former footing, and I am not concerned to deny that Sir George, it may be, was not very the sacrifice suggested is in itself compara- sorry to be provided with so good an extively trifling. To the principle involved Icuse for doing a foolish thing; but Willie, cannot but object; still, since I have resolved to make this last overture, it would be superfluous, as well as ungracious, to dwell upon that. In a word, then, I propose for the future to pay your mother £1,000 a year and to leave in the hands of as will be understood, had no great desire to become a rich man upon the terms proposed. Personally, he did not care very much about riches; he had obtained all that he asked of fortune in the knowledge that Evelyn loved him for his own sake, and naturally he could not wish his moth- | dog. Offering an annuity in that way is er to justify the cynical estimate of her very much the same thing as saying, 'Take upon which Sir George's suggestion was that and hold your tongue!' I hope my based. mother will refuse it; and I think she will. Shall you be sorry if she does?" "What are Lady Wetherby's plans for the winter?" his uncle asked presently. "Didn't you say something in your letter about her going to the south of France?" "Yes," answered Willie; "but she has postponed her departure for the present. Indeed, I am not sure that she hasn't given it up altogether." Sir George laughed. "I see. And perhaps for the same reason you may have given up the idea of going to India. Well, I hope you will give up the army also as soon as things have been definitely settled. You can't drag your wife about from one garrison to another; and if she will consent to it, I should like you to consider this house as your home. I don't think you will find me much in your way. However, that must be a matter for your decision and Lady Evelyn's; I only ask you to take pity upon a lonely old man as often as you can." Willie expressed the gratitude which he honestly felt; yet it was with little expectation of being able to accede to his uncle's request that he returned to Torquay the next day. On his arrival he drove straight from the station to Malton Lodge, because he was not only eager to see Evelyn, but thought it would be desirable to take counsel with her before making the formal proposition to his mother which he was bound to make. If, however, he was secretly anxious to hear his view of that proposition confirmed by his betrothed he was disappointed; for Lady Evelyn at once confessed that Sir George's offer did not strike her as being in any way outrageous. "He means to be generous; and I must say that I think he is rather generous," she remarked. "I don't see why Mrs. Archdale should take offence at his offer." "Wouldn't you take offence if such an offer were made to you?" asked Willie, a little reproachfully. "I don't know what I might or might not do if I were in Mrs. Archdale's place -I can't quite imagine myself in her place," answered the girl. Only you mustn't be shocked and disgusted if she decides that a thousand a year in the hand is worth a good many thousands in the bush. Most people are of that opinion, you know." "But most people," Willie urged, "wouldn't like to be treated as one treats an importunate beggar or an unbroken The girl looked at him in an odd, halfcompassionate way, but with a great deal of love and tenderness in her eyes. He seemed to her to be so good and so simple, and to have so very slight a comprehension of the despicable race to which we all belong. "My dear," she said gently, "nothing that pleases you will ever make me sorry. Do you think I am afraid of being poor? I wish I could have the chance of proving to you that no hardships could ever seem like hardships to me so long as we shared them. But I shall not have the chance, because we are not going to be poor at all. Do you know that Wetherby has written in the kindest possible way about our engagement, and that he proposes to make magnificent settlements on my behalf? He says that if you are half as good a fellow as you used to be, he would rather have you for his brother-in-law than any other man in England. Well, of course, I don't know what you used to be, but it seems to me that you are good enough now to deserve the settlements. And perhaps, after all, I am wrong and you are right, and this world isn't quite the wretched hole that I thought it was." "I only wish everybody in the world was as happy as I am!" ejaculated Willie. "My mother isn't, and I am afraid she never will be; but that is hardly her fault. The world hasn't treated her very well, you see." "Her daughter-in-law is going to treat her well, at all events," Lady Evelyn declared, for she could guess that that was what he wanted her to say. "Hitherto we haven't hit it off very successfully; but that is because I haven't tried. I am going to try now." With that encouraging assurance to comfort him, Willie went on his way byand-by, and if the promptitude with which he communicated it to his mother was no great evidence of tact, some allowance may surely be claimed for a lover who honestly believed that every sentiment uttered by his beloved was worthy of the most enthusiastic admiration. Marcia, as may be supposed, thought differently. She tossed her head and said that she really had no ambition to be patronized by Lady Evelyn. "Since she is to be your wife, I must make the best of her. We shall not quar |