of which the whole room presently simmered with unseemly mirth, the good people were scandalised, the magic lantern was a failure (as a moral agent), and Mrs. Primrose was marked anew for disgrace and obloquy as a clergyman's wife who scoffed at sacred things. Every one saw that she was the ringleader, and no doubt she was entirely to blame. But for her, the regular and decent order of a parochial tea-meeting would have been observed, as on all previous occasions; if she had not laughed at the magic lantern, no one else would have thought of doing so. Things of that kind were not criticised upon their merits; they were simply accepted as matters of course. was altogether her doing that a spirit of lawlessness and levity was invoked-against which the Church, as locally represented, contended in vain— and that religion, to use Mrs. Brown's words, was brought into contempt.

It

This crime was duly recorded against her by the avenging angels of the parish. But it was not the worst of the many that she committed that night.

CHAPTER V.

By nine o'clock the Wooroona husbands were all looking at their watches and at one another, intimating by signs and nods their mutual desire to be setting off on the return journey; and within the next hour the various buggies were furnished with their respective horses and collected upon the roadway, the drivers importuning their ladies to take their seats, while they lingered to gossip on the footpath in their pertinacious

manner.

It was a lovely moonlight night, pure and cool, and almost as clear as day. Coming out of the hot and crowded room and the fumes of stale food and kerosene lamps, everybody felt and said how sweet the fresh air was, and how delicious the drive home would be. For a quarter of a mile up and down the road every stump and stone could be seen, throwing its shadow upon the sandy track, to the confusion of amateur coachmen. Every buggy was distinguishable from every other as

soon as it appeared. They came from humble inn-yards and selectors' paddocks, one by one, the horses lively after a good feed, the drivers cheered by surreptitious nips of whiskey; and, in the interval of waiting for cargo, brisk negotiations went on between roadway and footpath for a redistribution of passengers, a recombination of parties, to suit the private interests of a few young people. In the midst of the bustle and chatter, certain quick eyes took note of a vehicle spinning through the Dennisons' home paddock towards the village at a great speed; and conversation lulled as the thud of the rapid hoofs became distinct. It was not one of the vehicles of the Wooroona cavalcade.

"That you, Barnes?" called the peremptory voice of Mr. Mackenzie, as a spidery buggy, drawn by a powerful pair of horses, whose satin coats shone in the moonlight as brightly as the silver mounts of their harness, was brought to a standstill in the midst of the waiting crowd.

hat.

"Yes, sir," responded the driver, touching his

"Mr. Primrose's buggy ready?"

"Yes, sir. Bob has it ready, sir."

"Got a horse, Barnes?"

“Yes, sir.”

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"All right. Jump down. You can be starting as soon as you like."

And Colin strode into the road, took the reins, and vaulted into the light carriage, while his groom sprang down and held the restless horses' heads.

"Hullo!" exclaimed one and another; "are you going with us?"

"Must," said Mr. Mackenzie.

home to-night."

"Have to get

"You've got your man with you?"

"Yes. He's going to ride back. He'll be useful to open gates."

Then there was a little pause and hush of expectation. It is not too much to say that nine ladies out of ten coveted the vacant seat in those springy cushions, under the 'possum rug, with a vehemence that bordered upon passion. To be singled out for honour at such a time (a dozen women of one's acquaintance looking on to see it); to have such a personally pleasant and socially distinguished companion all to one's self for twelve long miles; to be wafted through the moonlit night by those fleet horses-it was a too charming prospect! Grace Brown, conspicuous in a wide-leaved hat that swept low on one shoulder and curled high up into the air over the

other, stood well in front of the bevy of expectant ones, her heart beating with anticipated triumph; while her mother beside her was racked in an exquisite anguish of desire and doubt. Could shedared she-let her child go off unchaperoned with this man, Mackenzie of Darriwell though he was? This was the question that tortured the archdeacon's wife, who was proud to be a shining light and example to all the matrons of her acquaintance to show them all the thing that was genteel and proper. She wrestled with it wildly for a few seconds, and was just making up her mind that it might be done-seeing that, though the Darriwell buggy would certainly outstrip the others like the very wind itself, they were ostensibly all of one party when Colin, whose horses were ready to jump out of their skins with impatience to be off, called, "Come, Mrs. Primrose-are you ready?"— and the little minx, holding her husband's hand, stepped lightly into the road.

Envy, hatred, and malice took possession of the disappointed ones, and Mrs. Brown, at the head of them, was beside herself with rage.

"What!" she cried, in a tone which trembled with her irrepressible mortification, "are you going home with Mr. Mackenzie ?—at this time of night? -alone?"