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of course, he would like to have me believe as he did. I promised my mother before she died that I would never forget what she had taught me; but when I came here, and found that all the fellows were Protestants, you know, I was ashamed to say anything about being a Papist,' and so I have always gone to church with the rest of you, and I have almost forgotten everything that my mother taught me; and the end of it all is that I often think I have no religion at all now, and that it doesn't make any matter what I call myself. Only, Ambrose," he continued, almost fiercely, turning to me, "you know I cannot stand hearing you talk in that way, and I believing it to be a foul lie. I know," he went on, his voice beginning to break, "that it would be a blessed thing for me if I could only be like my mother. I know that she was like an angel of God, and that she died when she did, because she was too good for the world, and God took her to Himself. I know that if God had left her to me I should have been a very different fellow from what I am. I know," he continued, between the great sobs which were now rising in his throat, "that I'm almost as bad as I can be. I know that I shall never come to anything good, and I know that my mother was as holy and as pure as ever she could be, and as long as I live I will never again allow any one to say that her religion was false or bad. I know you didn't mean it, Ambrose," he went on, turning to me again; "but it was a lie, it was a foul lie for all that; and, bad as I am myself, it is a lie which no man shall ever again repeat before me. For the sake of my dead mother, I'll do that little at all events. God knows how faithfully I'll do that little," cried poor Tom, as at this point he

fairly broke down, and, covering his face with his hands, wept aloud.

I think that Eustace and I each got hold of one of his hands, and I am sure that we did our best, our very best, to comfort and console him with such simple words as our affection and sympathy suggested to us in a plentiful abundance. The end of it was that Tom soon brightened up, and, after binding ourselves to guard his secret faithfully, we joined hands, and once more renewed a promise which we had already several times made to one another, viz., that, through all the trials and changes of the uncertain future that was looming on us, we would stand to each other with a faithful and a never-wavering friendship, with a fidelity which no possible change of circumstances should ever weaken, with a constancy which no cloud should ever darken or obscure.

In our ignorance of any harm, we confirmed this promise with some solemn words, which I am sure we had no right to employ on such an occasion. How far this promise was rash, and with what degree of fidelity we who made it observed it, it is the object of this simple story to make known to the reader, whose patience may, perchance, have been somewhat tried by these introductory chapterschapters, however, which were necessary for the due understanding of the narrative to be unfolded in the following pages.

CHAPTER III.

PERCY GRANGE.

HE events recorded in the preceding chapter took place in the autumn of our last year at Atherby; and at Christmas I stood my examination for the "Exhibition." It was, I think, about the hardest piece of work which I ever went through in my life; but my labours were crowned with success; and the flush of joy which passed across my poor mother's pale face, as she clasped me in her arms on my return home, more than repaid me for all my toil. Eustace and I travelled down to Percymoate together as soon as the school broke up for the Christmas holidays. As we were to return to Atherby no more, this breaking up had a more than ordinary significance for us. I suppose there are few boys who leave school for good and all without some feeling of pain. It is not possible, I think, to sever ruthlessly, and without some degree of sorrowful regret, all those associations which are wound up with the old schoolroom and the wellknown seat, with the play-ground and its crowd of memories, with the village church, and, perhaps, the village house of entertainment for man and beast. Take it all in all, my days at Atherby school had been very happy and very peaceful; and it was with a feeling of true and deep regret that I went round

for the last time to look at all the places in which I had carved my name; to take leave of all my friends and acquaintances; to say good-bye to scenes which, in all human probability, I should never see again. When I add that my heart even softened to old Peter, who had never looked half so good-natured or half so pleasant in my eyes as when I went to say a few kind words to him, and to beg his pardon for all past annoyances before I went away, you will not be surprised to hear that I fairly broke down as the Doctor held my hand for that last time, and begged of me, in his own hearty, earnest words, ever to do my duty like a man; to be a comfort to my widowed mother, and a credit to Atherby school. After taking an affectionate farewell of Tom, who was to spend his vacation in London with a gentleman who was his guardian, and with many promises of froquent correspondence until we should meet again in Oxford, Eustace and I set off to Percymoate, the village in which my mother's little cottage was situated. The old baronial hall of the Percys is about three miles distant from this village, to which, as I have already said, it gives its name.

I was nearly nineteen at this time, and I have no doubt that I realised to the full the dignity of my position, now that my schoolboy days were over, and Oxford was open to me. As we travelled down

home, I thought a good deal of the Doctor's last exhortation to me on parting, to do my best to be a comfort to my widowed mother, and a credit to Atherby school. I think I have already mentioned that my mother had set her heart upon my entering the Church of England; and although I had no great inclination for embracing that profession, still I had no great repugnance to it, and thonght that it

would do as well as anything else. I need hardly say that I regarded it in no higher light than as a very respectable means of earning my daily bread. I didn't know at the time how very hard so many unfortunate men find it to earn their bread, in the most literal sense of the word, in the aforesaid profession. I fancy that my thoughts were rather directed to those fortunate ones, who have fallen into the possession of the loaves and fishes, than to the struggling curates, who have to strive to support themselves and their families, and to keep up a genteel appearance on a miserable ninety pounds a-year. However, neither my thoughts nor my resolutions on the matter were very deep; but they all had one unvarying conclusion, viz., that I would stand to my mother like a man; that I would do my very best for her who had done and sacrificed so much for me; that I would make her remaining days upon earth as happy and as pleasant as never-failing love, and watchfulness, and care, could render them. As soon as the coach on which we had travelled turned into the street in which the village inn was situated, I caught sight of my mother's poor, pale face, which looked all the paler and more worn as she strained her eyes and gazed anxiously towards us, that she might catch the first glimpse of me. I waved my hand to her as we drove down the little street; and I scarcely waited for the coach to stop before I jumped off and got her in my arms. It was two years since I had seen her, and I think she was hardly prepared for the change in my appearance which had taken place during that period. I think I must have reminded her very forcibly and very painfully of him who had gone; for, after one long look into my face, in which she seemed to scan its