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had given her, and positively passing her lips backwards and forwards over them as she arranged them on the breakfast

table.

"They are so sweet," said Gertrude, apologetically, "and I have so few flowers. I dare say you in the country have so many that they are scarcely precious at all."

Noel was not thinking of the flowers, or the childish action of fondling them. It is to be supposed that the quick, universal impulse had overcome this strong-minded philosopher; for what followed was to him a very vague re

rum philosophicum. He might never have left the Elysian fields of philosophical bachelordom, but for a chance by which he and the curate -a new arrival in the parish-became intimate; and this chance was the discovery that the curate had in his possession certain rare folios, possibly handed down to him from a bibliomane ancestor. These books he, the Rev. George Chester, was ready enough to lend, confessing, however, that they were unintelligible to himself. The admission fell upon dull ears. The prizes treated upon the transmutation of metals; s; and Noel talked to the curate as though the latter membrance. When he came to himself had been as widely acquainted with analytical and experimental chemistry as he fancied he was himself. Out of these books, then, and a vivid admiration which the somewhat slow intellect of Mr. Chester conceived for the philosophical genius, a friendship sprang up, which resulted in a proposal from the curate that Noel should accompany him on a visit he was about to pay to his aunt and sister in London.

he knew that he had laid all the beauties he could claim or procure of country life at her feet, if she would only accept them. How he had done it was another thing; awkwardly, of course, but that mattered little: it was done. And then the marvellous novelty of his sensations at finding that Gertrude was actually happy in his confession! It was true that her happiness seemed to be mixed with an awful reverence for him; still that it was happiness he could not doubt; and for the time he flung chemistry to the winds, and was happy too. He was not, however, learned enough in woman's nature to understand the sudden gravity that came over Gertrude and seemed to sober her all at once from the madcap Miss Chester, and called her into the thoughtful woman.

Mr. Rashleigh at first declined; then suddenly some thought of the British Museum crossed his mind, and he withdrew his refusal. George Chester neither knew nor cared for the motive which led to this vacillation of purpose. He was proud of his friend, and glad of an opportunity to introduce him to Gertrude and his aunt. George himself was not brilliant, and for this reason, "Aunt Jean will tell you dreadful perhaps, he liked to seek and to be tales about me," said Gertrude, not sought by those whom he considered without a hesitating fear for the result. above the average. It soothed his con-"And indeed I am afraid I have desciousness of personal mediocrity and served all that she will say. But I am gratified him. not going to be wilful any more; everything is so "So what?

The result of the visit has been seen. Mr. Rashleigh went but little to the British Museum. The thing was very wonderful, but not less true for that. He was taken captive by this child-like sister of the curate, whose very childishness came to him like fresh flowers to an invalid, or sunlight to a man long blinded. It dazzled him. She sang like the happiest bulbul that ever charmed a moonlight listener; she was full of wilful tricks, which she did with all the grace of monk propriety. How the end came about, Noel could not tell. He only knew that he found her one morning cooing over some flowers that George

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"So very different now. know, Mr. Rashleigh, I had nothing to give up being wilful for."

She said it as if entreating him to be lenient in his judgment of those dreadful things which Aunt Jean would say; and Noel laughed, for Miss Chester and her opinions were of very secondary im portance to him just then. He got over his interview with that formidable lady as soon as possible, and emerged from it with an oppressive idea of spectacles that had seemed to be looking through to his backbone, and knitting-needles

which had bobbed out sharp speeches the railway carriage on his return home at him till he was almost bewildered. after that memorable last visit before the Aunt Jean had nevertheless been on wedding, the day for which had been the whole tolerably propitious, and Noel fixed. As the distance increased bewas satisfied. It was all very strange tween himself and Gertrude the echoes and wonderful; wonderful to think that of her voice ceased to haunt him; and Gertrude cared for him, and that he, by the time he reached his own house Noel Rashleigh, had made so decided a his meditations concerning some little plunge into the unknown sea which, for alterations he had proposed to himself anything he knew, might be full of ruin- therein were oddly mixed with a wonder ous rocks and breakers. He looked at whether a certain pamphlet ordered behimself in the glass and thought how fore he left home had arrived in his ugly he was. He rubbed his hands absence. over his forehead, and wished for a moment that he could rub out that deep wrinkle from between the eyebrows, but he couldn't: and then he laughed at himself, and went to take his leave of Gertrude for that time, and to stipulate that he should be allowed to come again soon, and that the wedding should not be long delayed.

This stipulation had to be made to Aunt Jean; and, in obedience to some masonic signal which Noel did not understand, Gertrude left the room as he made it, and he was again alone with Miss Chester. The wedding! As he spoke of it he actually felt the red in his dark cheek, and turned stammering from the keen eyes watching him.

Aunt Jean, however, had something to say which she conceived it her duty to say; and under such circumstances it was not her habit to relent.

"Mr. Rashleigh," said the old lady, "you are going to take away a spoiled child who is very dear to me. You will not be offended if I speak to you plainly?" "Offended? No, certainly not." "When a man gives himself up to one pursuit, to which he gives up the whole of his time and energy, it is apt to become a second nature grafted upon the first; so that he is unlikely to consider those trifles which make the sum of human things, and go to the fulfilment of domestic happiness. Mr. Rashleigh, Gertrude is very young; in reality, though not in years, she is a mere child. I beseech you to take thought for her." "Madam," replied Noel, looking at her with hazy, uncomprehending eyes, "her happiness shall be my dearest care."

And Miss Chester, reading perfectly the expression of his face, knew that it would be hopeless to say any more.

We left Mr. Rashleigh, however, in

He went to the study or laboratory, the construction of which had excited the village wonder some few years ago, when he finally gave up the farm on which his father had grown wealthy. A packet that met his eye was inimical to the alterations; they could be made at any time; and he was eager to dip into this new treatise on an old subject.

The voice of his future brother-in-law roused him from a long fit of absorption, and he started up only half awakened from his reverie-one of those reveries concerning which Gertrude already knew something-very little yet, and which she afterwards took to call "sublimates," with that rueful sort of jesting which smothers a sigh.

"Oh, I was coming to you, George," said Mr. Rashleigh, bringing himself back with a jerk."It's to be next week -Wednesday-you can come, I sup

pose?"

"Yes; I shall run up the day before. How did you leave them? "Very well."

"And from London you go where?" "Go!" repeated Mr. Rashleigh, puzzled; "oh, I see. Yes. Upon my word I am not sure that we fixed decidedly. To the north, I think it will be."

"The lakes? Very nice to be you," said the curate, with a half sigh. "I must go. I only looked in upon you in passing."

And Mr. Rashleigh, left alone, fingered the leaves of that treatise a little longer, and then closed it, and went to walk up and down on his lawn, that he might think.

Yes, it would be very nice; George was right about that. Very nice to have a bright little fairy singing about the lonely house, and making it merry with her own light-heartedness. Very nice

when he left his study to find her waiting for him, ready to talk or to be silent; to sit as she had sat for a little while the evening before, with her head resting on his shoulder and her hand in his; or to walk with him about those fields on which he had tried his unsuccessful experiments, and which were now let to his neighbor, Mr. Frankton.

Noel Rashleigh spent the next halfhour as a lover should spend it, and then with a sudden practical thought he turned back into the house, and wrote to the county town for the very best piano which could be furnished at a short notice from a provincial warehouse.

CHAPTER III.

WHAT THE PARISH SAID.

"I'LL never believe it. As for the first report of the marriage, Mr. Rashleigh is much too sensible a man to do such a thing; and for the second".

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The speaker stopped. It was though the very enormity of that second report took her breath away. She, Mrs. Rodington Haye, was calling upon her neighbor, Mrs. Frankton, and the two ladies, having strolled into the garden, were supposed to be admiring the flowers.

"As for the second instalment of the report," proceeded Mrs. Haye, deliberately, "it is simply laughable.'

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"Like most reports, to be accepted, if accepted at all, with a reservation," responded her companion.

Mrs. Rodington Haye glanced from the scarlet geranium, whose faded blossoms her friend was cutting off, towards the spot where the chimneys of Mr. Rashleigh's house seemed to blend with the church-tower.

"Then the marriage also must be nonsense. A girl of eighteen! Why, it is absolutely ridiculous."

"That I had from Mr. Chester himself," replied Mrs. Frankton, "so of course it is true. And I don't see exactly why it is ridiculous. I am not sure about her age being eighteen; I only know that she is very young."

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"You had it from Mr. Chester?" "Yes. The wedding takes place this week, I believe."

Mrs. Haye she was very particular about that finale: it distinguished her

from the commoner Hays to be found in the provincial town-indulged in a speculative grimace. Of course Mr. Rashleigh had a right to be married if he liked, and without consulting his neighbors: nevertheless there was some slight feeling of aggrievement astir amongst them. They had a sort of vested interest in him as a bachelor. More than once he had lent the lawn before his house as a croquet-ground; and although Mrs. Haye herself cared nothing about croquet, yet she did like the liberty and license with which on such occasions she went through Noel's rooms, examined his furniture, and, in common with others, made herself perfectly at home in them. It was very useful to have such a house in the parish; and of course, if a mistress came to it, all that would be altered. But as to the second bit of gossip-whisper it gently-how it could possibly have arisen, who first made it up, or heard it, or dreamt it, no one could find out. If it were not for the exertions of Captains Speke and Grant, I might perhaps say, as well try to discover the source of the Nile; but that platitude has been robbed of its point.

The report was, then, that the new Mrs. Rashleigh intended to take the lead in the parish.

"It has been traced to the Lisles," said Mrs. Haye, somewhat inconsequently as to the foregoing conversation, but apropos of the report; "and Mrs. Lisle cannot tell exactly where she heard it first. Take the lead, indeed! Upon my word, it is too absurd for comment. Young ladies in these days do certainly not know their place. I suppose she is going to reform us all. Take the lead!

Mrs. Haye, being the widow of a professional man, and possessing an independent fortune, arrogated to herself a certain importance in the parish, which was conceded, partly perhaps to a selfassertive power, and partly to a very uncertain temper.

"The marriage itself is, no doubt, an intrigue between the curate and his sister," she proceeded. "Everybody knows how poorly the clergy provide for their children and just think of

the seams of Mr. Chester's coats! Of course this is altogether admirable for them both."

"I think you go a little too far," ventured Mrs. Frankton.

Her visitor stooped, and laid one yellow kid finger on the faded geranium. "The thing is-are we to notice her?" Mrs. Haye's tone was solemn and impressive, and the speech altogether had a magnificent sound. Underneath it there was an uneasy, resentful doubt lest, in the innumerable divisions which do so singularly intersect the classes with lines difficult to comprehend, the new Mrs. Rashleigh should think herself above her neighbors in the social scale.

Something of this must have cropped out; for Mrs. Frankton, looking upon the yellow kid finger, broke into a laugh of genuine amusement.

"At any rate," she said, "as we have hitherto been very good friends with Mr. Rashleigh, I suppose we shall be neighborly enough to call."

Some unhappy thread had surely got entangled in the fabric of poor Gertrude's fate, and had been enwoven with it. Prejudice had crept on before her, and was already doing her incalculable mischief. If these gossippers would only have stopped to consider the actual foundation for their decisions! But that is a thing seldom done.

"Oh! I dare say she will be trying to visit at Sir James Field's, and possibly with Lord Cavendish himself. We cannot keep up with that sort of thing, you know."

Again Mrs. Frankton laughed. "Upon my word," she said, "I am quite tired of Mrs. Noel Rashleigh before I have seen her. She has had more than could be compressed into nine ordinary days already. How do you think my rose-hedge looks ?"

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outside. The proximate cause for this change of posture must have been the approaching footsteps of a servant or the departing ones of Mr. Rashleigh, or perhaps both, since the expression of Mrs. Rashleigh's face was not one which would have borne the scrutiny of servants' eyes.

She listened to the noisy removal of the breakfast service, and once or twice had an impulsive desire to beg for less violent demonstrations on the remover's part; but she restrained herself. It is a humiliating fact for a mistress to confess, but Mrs. Rashleigh was afraid of her servants. This morning she was afraid of everything. She was so lonely, and wretched, and low-spirited, that it was hard to keep back the tears, and gulp down the lump in her throat, aʼ giving way to which would, she reflected, be so very childish. She scolded herself, instead of thus giving way. What did she want? Had she not all, and more than all, that could possibly be desired? Was not her husband kindness itself; and had she ever heard a harsh word from his lips? Never! Perhaps it was early days for that yet; and perhaps also, in the midst of her self-scolding, the shutting of the distant door of his laboratory fell upon her ear with a blank, chilly reminder of the desolate and aimless day before her. A day like yesterday, and the day before, and, oh! so many days before, that she could hardly remember when they began, and certainly could not look forward to the time when they would end.

And then her thoughts wandered back to the first few days of her life in this new home. How happy they were! How constantly Noel had been with her! What pleasant walks they had taken together about the fields, and down under the willows by the riverside. And he had started the project of a boat, in which he was to row her to the ruins of an old abbey a few miles lower down the river; and George was to go with them and make a pic-nic of it. And the cooing of wood - pigeons was in her ear again; the rippling of the clear beautiful water, as the willow branches kissed it; and she saw again the great pink beds of wild geranium, and the wild yellow iris, the foxgloves, forget-me-nots, and countless wild flow

ers growing in the coverts by the river. In the fields, too, the startled pheasants ran from the path, scarcely fearing her sufficiently to fly outright. And then the rabbits and hares, and the thousands of birds with their marvellous songsall new to her! But, above all, Noel had been there.

And the wife of a few months roused herself, for a great hot tear had fallen on her hand, and more threatened to come- a shower more like July than November; hot and thundery.

"I won't do it," said Mrs. Rashleigh, passionately. "I will not-it's wicked."

And so tear after tear fell, and was wiped away with angry vehemence, and still they persisted in coming.

"Aunt Jean, Aunt Jean, what would you say to me now? Oh, I wish I had some one to scold me for being so wicked and ungrateful!"

But Aunt Jean would never come uninvited, and how was it possible to invite her, when she would see and know all? All what?

It would have been difficult for Gertrude to answer that. And it seemed useless to try to rouse herself from these musings, since there was nothing at all, that she knew of, for her to do.

She had got tired of those long, rambling walks which had been rather pleasant when first Noel began to turn towards that ugly door and leave her to herself; besides it was not the season for them.

What could she do? Something must be wrong in herself; what was it?

Mrs. Rashleigh drew a stool to the window and took a piece of work from her work table. She was going to be good and useful. But, alas! she could have found few better misery accelerators than the needle. There were so many associations connected with it; so many of Aunt Jean's dry remarks as to her niece's long stitches and short progress. The needle was very bright at first, but it grew dim; she could not see it at all: then it split into a dozen needles. And she threw down the work and set herself to think.

We may as well go back with her along her brief experience of married life, since we know as yet nothing about it.

It seemed to have been a series of false or unfortunate steps, from which those neighbors whom she was so anxious to conciliate drew, without of course meaning to be cruel, cruel conclusions.

She remembered her first Sunday at church, where everything was so different from what she had been accustomed to, that, but for the novelty, it would have made her miserable at once.

The better part of the congregation came in as they would have entered a concert room, or any other place of public entertainment; speaking over the seats to their friends, some even shaking hands, and then taking a deliberate survey of all those who had been previously seated, before they settled themselves for the performance (sic). The word must be excused; it was one which occurred with an almost hysterical affection of remorse to the bride herself, who sat in a shady corner of her ugly square pew, shrinking from all those eyes which were turned so mercilessly upon her.

Then came those lower in the social scale, and they strolled in by twos and threes, and took their places stolidly with open mouths and staring eyes, as though they had no very exact idea of what was about to take place, but whatever it might be, they were not to be shaken from their heavy blankness of indifference.

Moreover, so that the arrivals were over before the sermon began, it did not seem to matter much about the other parts of the service; and the constant disturbance of those clanking iron-heeled country boots-in rustic parlance donkey-shod-and the heavy, swaying gait which seemed to bring each foot down with the whole weight of the body above it, all had a perfectly novel and bewildering effect upon Mrs. Rashleigh.

Also, it was her unhappy fate to be musical; and the dreadfully ornate chants and long dreary hymns, all in that inimitable nasal twang of Sunday-school children, which must be heard to be appreciated, tried her sorely.

During the sermon some one snored very audibly behind her, and taking courage to glance round, a vision of open mouths and closed eyes caused her to turn again quickly and keep close

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