tender to them both, and make them feel that she shared their burden cheerfully, and in sharing, lightened it. She would always love Arthur; and she thought that he would always love her-but perhaps not now. If even he did not, she would never forget him; but of course after her letter she should never see him again, and -perhaps it was better not. And at this thought her eyes filled with tears which dropped silently on her hand. All the same, whatever her good resolves to be brave and cheerful as well as loving might be, the day was dark and dreary; and she could not affect to be cheerful with her brother's last kiss yet warm on her cheek, and her lover's silent acquiescence in her renunciation of him gnawing at her heart with as much surprise as pain. She thought he might have written; perhaps he would even yet; but he had had her note last night, and now it was past four in the afternoon of the next day. It was scarcely like him not to have answered-but surely he would!

She was thinking this, intermingled with speculations as to where Derwent was by now, and how strange it was to be without him, and how dreary the house was- —as if a death were lying in it -when suddenly the sound of well-known feet was heard, the tones of a well-known voice echoed in the porch, and Arthur, asking for form's sake if the ladies were at home but setting aside the servant and the answer alike, came through the hall and into the room where the miserable trio were sitting.

For the first time since their engagement Muriel did not go to meet him. She rose from her seat hastily, but she turned her colourless face from her lover and looked at her father instead. Arthur too was pale, and evidently deeply moved. He was resolute, but not unfeeling; and if he had put himself in opposition to his mother, and preferred love to home, and the independence of a man who makes his own career to the maintenance of his present social position, he had not decided without pain or acted without sorrow. But he had decided and he had acted; and he was not one to be driven from his point or made to go back on himself.

up

'No, you must not meet me like this, Muriel,' he said, going to her and holding out his hands. 'There is no reason why

you should turn away from me.'

'But why you should turn from me,' she answered.

'I am the best judge of that,' he said gravely.

No,' returned Muriel, that conversation with Lady Machell under the lime-trees coming back on her mind with photographic clearness; we must judge for you. I cannot bring disgrace upon you-what the world would call disgrace,' she added hastily,

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throwing her arms round her father's neck— but what I love and honour!'

Your family will never consent to this marriage,' put in Mrs. Smith with a weary kind of air, like one tired of the struggle and desirous to hasten even the worst that she might lie down at last in peace. I made you understand my reluctance from the first; and I say now what I said then, that I cannot allow Muriel to be forced on your people against their will.'

Arthur turned to her and involuntarily drew himself up to his height. If his mother's opposition had not influenced him Mrs. Smith's was even less likely to stir him, save with a certain disdain at her presumption in making it. For with all his natural good temper, he was not very tolerant of opposition; and though in a certain sense democratic, yet it was the democracy of a man who held himself stronger than circumstance, and the one to give, not to take, the determining value of his surroundings. It was Muriel, not her people, with whom he had to deal; and the chances of their pleasure or displeasure had not been taken into his calculation at all.

'I have made my choice,' he said a little sternly; but his tone softened as he added-looking at the girl for whose sake he had just offended and renounced his mother-Muriel is more to me than the whole world beside, and nothing can separate us but her own will.'

And that must,' said Mrs. Smith; for your own sake we must not allow you to enter our family.'

As I said before, I am the best judge of that,' he returned haughtily. I want no one to think for me or to arrange my affairs.'

'Poor boy!' said Mrs. Smith, her eyes filling with tears. We must protect you against yourself."

The young man made an impatient gesture. At other times Mrs. Smith's maternal compassion would have pleased and warmed him; now it came with a galling sense of incongruity and interference, highly wrought as he was after that last scene with his mother, and feeling as he did that with all his love for Muriel he had need also of some of his strength to make him overcome the aversion which such a man as he naturally felt for such a man as Edmund Smith.

All this is beside the question,' he said proudly. My business lies with Muriel only, and I will take my answer only from her, after her long and deliberate choice. What do you say, Muriel? will you marry me and come with me to Australia, or am I to go there alone-my career in England destroyed, my

old home and old affections given up, and the new life that I have marked out with you a melancholy delusion and a failure?'

'I cannot leave papa and mamma,' she answered, still not looking at him.

'Do not all daughters leave their parents when they marry?' he continued.Why should you expect to make a life different from the rest?'

Theirs do not want them so much as mine want me,' she answered.

And do I count for nothing?' he asked in a voice full of tender reproach. Are your promises to me mere child's play that may be taken up or laid down at will? We men, Muriel, love better than that.'

She trembled more than before, and turned impulsively as if to go to him. Then she looked again at her father and crept a few steps nearer still to him.

This is my duty,' she said in a low voice. Derwent has left us, and I must not leave them too.'

All the time Edmund Smith had not spoken. Suddenly he lifted up his head, and his long thin pointed fingers ceased their nervous tapping on the table.

Yes, you must leave us,' he then said, speaking with dignity and command. Go with Mr. Machell, Muriel, if he is willing to take you knowing what he does; it is your duty to go.'

'And leave you and mamma?' said Muriel, who was strung to sacrifice.

'And leave us,' he answered.

'Papa, you must be always papa and my beloved to me!". cried Muriel, as she had said once before, flinging herself into his arms and clinging to him. I will be no man's wife who does You are my father, and nothing in

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not love you and accept you. the whole world shall make me give you up!' Arthur drew back a few steps. The Machell blood in him repudiated this forger, this convict; and for the instant he felt that his mother was right-no alliance was possible between the clean and the unclean; the son of Sir Gilbert Machell could not marry Edmund Smith's daughter. He stood for a few moments, hesitating, pale, his teeth and lips set as his mother set hers; then he tossed back the hair from his forehead, cleared his eyes with his hand, and set his shoulders square as he went forward and gravely offered Edmund Smith his hand.

‘Let the past die,' he said, making the one last supreme effort, the one last supreme sacrifice, You are Muriel's father and I

will not separate you. Come to Australia with us, and then my darling will be happy.'

'No,' said Edmund sadly, holding Muriel in his arms. 'I will not darken your lives by my presence. We will be enough for each other, my wife and I; only let Muriel write to us, and tell us of her happiness-do not cut us off from her love, and we shall be satisfied. It is as much as I ought to ask, and perhaps more than I have the right to expect.'

'Thank you,' said Arthur simply, but he held out his hand again and pressed that of the forger with friendly warmth. 'Now, Muriel,' he said, taking her by gentle force into his arms; 'the last barrier is broken down, and I see no other to come. Look at me, my darling, and let me hear you say once more that you love me-in the presence of your father and mother who shall be mine because they are yours. Muriel! you do love me well enough to leave all and come with me, do you not?'

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'Yes, if I may still hold them,' said Muriel, weeping for sorrow and smiling for love. Mamma! you know how much I love him; and this is just why,' turning back to Arthur, 'I could give you up for your own good. I do not want you to lose all for me.' "If I lose the whole world, I have you,' said Arthur fervently; and I am content with the exchange.'

It was a bright and crisp December day. The outwardbound ship had taken in the last of her cargo and the last of her passengers. Her decks were clear, her steam was up, and in a short time the order would be given for all strangers to leave, when she would slip her moorings and move out to sea. But a few precious moments still remained to the loving hearts on the eve of parting, perhaps for ever; and the deck was dotted about with groups of sorrowful friends come to 'see the last' of those without whom, it seemed to them now, life would be impossible. Down in the Machell state-room sat Edmund Smith and his wife, passing the last half-hour with the true and faithful heart that had fought the battle of love for them-and won it. Arthur was on deck, his eyes turned wistfully to the shore. He had parted from his mother in anger on her side, in sorrow on his; but to the last he hoped that she would give way now when no good was to be got by displeasure; and that she, as his father had done, would come to see him, and wish him God speed, and be reconciled to his choice so far as to recognize Muriel as her daughter. But he strained his eyes in vain. Among all the faces looking across on the decks of the outward-bound his mother's was not to be seen.

Presently a little stir took place among the loungers and