hundred and a house; but by the terms of the trust I was not to take boarders, nor, indeed, any pupils other than foundation scholars. These very terms, with their means of subsistence and promise of a good margin of leisure, were my inducements. But the good people of Cumberley were so amazed at my choice they set me down from the first in the category of eccentrics; and the character clung to me, as characters will cling, no more to be shaken off than the grasp of a drowning man, when they came to know more of me and my pursuits -when they came to know that I was making delicate and costly experiments towards some great mechanical discovery.

My self-imposed exclusion had a contrary effect to that intended. I had any number of invitations, I might have been intimate at any number of houses; I was decided to be quite presentable, and I had no peculiar relatives to turn up unawares. It came even to be whispered about that it was a very great man who occasionally visited me, who came and went so unostentatiously, as great men do come and go. (Lord Uxford, who, having an estate in the next county, would take me in his way.) I by no means debarred myself from society; I simply refused it ascendency over me: I was even intimate with one family, finding many points in common with its head, Mr. Frekeston. Similarly, I never resolved, as some men do, that I would not marry, or rather attempt to marry; at the same time it always remained a thing of to-morrow with me.

Three years' sojourn in Cumberley found me in my twentyeighth year. Three years they were of intense application, carrying me on and on, until my goal was well in sight. I had come to the end of my fifteen hundred pounds, but I reckoned, almost confidently, that in the next year's estimates my Lords of the Admiralty would ask something on my account. I had had no communication with my uncle from the time of his casting me adrift. Stay, though; I was once even introduced to him. I was

present at the evening conversazione of a great London society, before whose members I had that morning read a paper. There was a little talk about me and this paper, which my uncle, also present, heard without hearing my name. Fond of the role of the rich connoisseur, he requested an introduction. I, in equal ignorance up to this point, stood bowing before a tall, fine man, with perfectly white hair, and a calm, courteous face, only when he smiled it looked as liable to breakage as china.

'Are not the Mr. Dukes relatives?' asked a gentleman near, supposing the introduction superfluous.

'Relatives? yes,' replied my uncle; uncle and nephew indeed - but not acquaintances.'

And asking an indifferent question or two in the most collected voice, he bowed himself away. Now, you know, I, on the contrary, felt foolishly embarrassed for some time after.

The next I heard of him was his death. I was mentioned in his will, for he left me a picture of my father by Opie, and nineteen guineas wherewith to buy a mourning ring. But all his other property went to Edmund Duke's children: the money to the younger sons and daughters, the freehold estates to the eldest son - now the representative of the eldest branch of the Duke family.

This Edmund Duke, now dead some three years, was another brother of my father's, more wealthy even than Richard, and married to Lady Frances Heriot, a daughter of the Marquis of Mainwaring. He had been estranged from my father -the only cause an hour's hot words; but grown men don't come easily together again. I had understood that after my father's death he expressed regret that it should have been so. Therefore my one impression of him was better than my one impression of Richard Duke. When I heard how the money was left, I thought of for he that hath, to him shall be given.' But I was very resolved my one valent should not be hidden in a napkin.

CHAPTER II.

It was the Valentine's day after my twenty-eighth birthday. I was freed from my pupils, it, as Founder's day, being distinguished by a whole holiday. All the morning I had been toiling over my work, as to myself I always called it; doing too much perhaps, for I had come to one of those full stops which used so to harass and depress me when I first commenced my researches, but which I now knew to be as much physical as mental. So I planned to take a smart gallop, return home to a light luncheon-I had respect for the saying, 'a full head, an empty stomach, and reapply myself to my labours with what new lights I might be blessed with.

This programme in view, I left my papers just as I rose from them; somewhat rash perhaps with one precious document of which I had no duplicate, the fruition of the whole, amongst them. But my housekeeper would have deemed it as much as her place was worth to introduce unauthorized visitors to my study.

I returned from my six-mile gallop without any definite train of thought, but in splendid trim for thinking. Braced up, and all a-glow with the exercise of riding, I walked briskly into my study. Conceive my amazement at sight of a hat, cloak, a lady's travelling gear, in fact, lying carelessly, as thrown off, on the table where my papers had been; and coiled up on the rug before the fire the owner thereof-coiled up I call it, because when she rose it was with a languid, supple motion. As I stood with the door in my hand, gazing with all my eyes, as we provincials say, and she tranquilly turned her face my way, she looked so entirely at her ease, and yet the whole tableau was so unreal, or rather, so confounding, I involuntarily thought of the witch-woman I had read of in old romances-the witch-woman who comes upon one unawares and steals away one's senses.

When she rose, which she was in no haste to do, she showed herself to be of about middle height, of a

beautiful figure-the sort of swaying, balanced figure which, if the back be turned to you, makes you curious to see the face going with it.

And her face was pale, and almost oval, with dark eyebrowsor eyebrows, the rather, dark by contrast with her complexion-darkgrey eyes and long dark lashes; but the hair was lighter than chestnut, of a profound colour; that is, mostly all shade, but sometimes all brightness. If you saw her in a crowd you would look after her. The long black lashes and the eyelids drooped very much, except on the rare occasions when she gave you a wide, quick glance; but yet you knew the great grey eyes were lying in wait behind them, either indifferent, or insolent, or wicked, as her mood might be. Her dress was of a delicate grey-ribbed material; on the little white hands flashed brave rings; indeed everything about her though quiet, as was suitable for travelling, was also rich and costly.

From her post on the rug, and from under the haughty, drooping lids, she surveyed me as critically as though I was the intruder and she the intruded upon. And as nonchalantly as possible she followed my glance to the escritoire, where I was thankful to see my papers in not so very great disorder -one gets to be thankful for small mercies. 'I suppose,' said she, rising to her feet with just so much haste as suited her, 'I ought to apologize for trespassing.'

'I suppose so, too,' was on my tongue's end, for not a shade of apology did she so much as affect.

'Your housekeeper warned me out of this room as if as if there were spring-guns or infernal machines in it,' looking to some queer, outlandish models in one corner.

'Mrs. Pell had her orders undoubtedly, but-'

'Yes, it was her orders; but I gave mine, you see, so it does not signify.' She had a trick of pouting her lower lip, especially when she ceased speaking, and she carried her head a little back, so you may know she had not much humility about her.

It was evident I ought to be gratified; I did manage to say, 'I am glad you took my hospitality for granted: I spoiled it though by a second dubious glance towards my papers. 'But really-I am in ignorance-I have not the honour of an acquaintance. Is there not some mistake? For who my visitor was I had not the faintest idea, and she spoke as though I ought to know her.

'Oh, I thought your housekeeper would have told you;' her tone on the instant more distant, and less patronizing. You are Mr. Gurnel Duke, are you not?' A doubt momentarily troubling her. 'I am

Miss Duke. I have surprised you!' 'Pardon me, I still require some enlightenment. But there can be but one Miss Duke, I imagine.' And I held out my hand in somewhat tardy welcome. 'My cousin, I presume-Mr. Edmund Duke's daughter.' The slight forward inclination of her head confirmed me.

'And you are Gurnel Duke. Ah, I was sure I should find it so. Directly the porter spoke I guessed it. It is quite by accident I find myself here. Now you tell me what I am to do' she had quite returned to her first condescension. 'I have never been in this part of England before-but your housekeeper said something about your lunch. Hadn't you better order it in?-I really could eat some.'

'Well,' thought I, 'some persons' adaptation to circumstances is something remarkable.'

'And Baker,' added she, as I went to obey her behests; 'do see that your housekeeper makes her comfortable.'

'And who's Baker?" I asked, more and more in a maze.

'Oh, you will sympathize with Baker; she's in such distress of mind;' in as solemn a voice, but a spice of girlish glee in her eyes over the dismay that struggled with my desire to be hospitable. For, what this invasion portended I had as yet.no knowledge. 'Yes, and Baker's comfort is of as much consequence as mine, please.'

I found Baker a rigid-looking duenna whom, doubtless, her mis

tress could twist round her fingers -by token of her very rigidity. She was installed in the room in which I ordinarily received my own visitors.

'About my being here,' said my cousin, on my return. 'I am on my way to my brother's at Steeple Audley. Of course I should have taken the line by Audleybury, and then Steeple Audley

Your brother's, Miss Duke, at Steeple Audley?'

'Don't you know? Frank has bought the Park estate, and he is going to live there principally. I shall be with him a great deal. Well, at Lipswich Junction, a stupid porter put us into a wrong train, and we did not find it out until we were told to leave the carriage at Cumberley-here. It does not go further, you know. They would have posted us on, but there isn't a horse in the town can go the distance-they are all lame, I think they said.'

And it is eight-and-twenty miles.'

I

'Yes. So there they stood, staring at me and each other, until one remarked that there was a Mr. Duke in the town-they had heard my name a dozen times, only it took that time, you see, to dawn on them. I was sure, directly. asked your Christian name. That no one knew. You were Mr. Duke. Were you a schoolmaster? Yes. And then I asked for a fly, and came straight here. You see I was so sure. I know all about you, although you don't know me at all.' The air is indescribable. I might be one of the common herd, she did not affirm it; but the 'me' was a grand assertion. You must not think that in this or anything else she was pert or fast. She had nothing of that about her. It was only that she had a low, gentle voice, and a simple, naïve way of saying the most arrogant things. She had also her airy moods and phases of clear, bright, sunshiny laughter; sometimes pungent but always pure. Yes, I got to know them all well.

'I don't see that you can get to Steeple Audley to-day.'

'I don't see that I can. Won't Frank be in terror! And there's no telegraph after Parnham. Dear me, what a stupid place this Cumberley must be! The people said I could get to Audleybury by going back to Lipswich. But then I shouldn't reach Steeple Audley until two hours after dark, and Frank would not allow that.'

'It is a fifty miles' détour besides. You could go direct from here to Audleybury about seven; but that is even more into the dark.'

'Won't Frank be anxious indeed?" 'It seems to me, Miss Duke, there are two things you want done,' said I, calling the roll of the enemy's force before mustering my own'Your brother's anxiety relieved, and yourself lodged suitably?' She nodded attentively from her chair. 'Letting Mr. Duke know-that's no great difficulty. Send a message for the guard to put on the wires at Parnham-a train goes that way in little over an hour. Lodgings are not so easy. I have a plan-I will ask some friends of mine, the Frekestons. It could not be nicer than that you should go there. I don't know if Mr. and Mrs. Frekeston are returned from London yet. Well, if not, I must ask the other ladies of the family-that is, of course, if it meets your approval.'

'Yes, yes; you have arranged just what is best,' she said, in grave thanks, with the air of conferring a favour in accepting service. (I am trying to be a faithful describer of all this: how far I succeed I cannot tell.) The spirit of her thanks-her unhesitating reliance on my judgment of what was fitting for her-and the happy fearlessness which had been her chief security, I liked best in her. For, as Edmund Duke's daughter-I will be honest-her very apparent ease of circumstance, her beauty even, were a provocation and an offence to me. I did not know until I saw her that I had been jealous that Edmund Duke's family had been preferred before me. One cannot well forestall these jealousies, yet it is one's own fault if their springing life be not cut short. And I will be honest to myself too-as

soon as it showed itself above ground I called my envy by its own ugly name and disowned it. But these things are not done in a moment, and in doing are apt to make one ungracious.

If

Cumberley House - Mr. Frekeston's place,' I continued, half in explanation, half in deliberation, ' is a mile out of the town. But the bank-I'll go there; that's no more than five minutes' walk. he has been there any time to-day, he'll be there now. When I have seen him I will go to Cumberley House, and speak to Mrs. Frekeston herself. Will that do for the message?' handing her what I had been writing meanwhile. 'Miss Duke to Francis Duke, Steeple Audley Park. Put into wrong train at Lipswich; brought on to Cumberley. Met Mr. Gurnel Duke; am going for the night to Mr. Frekeston's.'

Stay, I'll add banker, because Mr. Duke will probably know the firm. They have a branch at Audleybury. Here comes luncheon.'

'And we can sit down to it with a clear conscience, can we not?" said she, smiling. 'Thank you, it all does nicely. Exactly one of my scrapes, Frank will say. But I always get out of them, you know.'

With her wide affirming eyes, quickly arched brows, head a little aside, hands laid one in the other, she looked like a happy, naughty child-happy in her immunity. There are so many harsh words going about the world, one ought to be glad for the little head on which they fell not at all, or so lightly as to be tossed off as lightly.

Then we occupied ourselves with luncheon. By-and-by the girl laid down her knife and fork, took in me, the room, herself, in a glance, and showing her appreciation of the situation by a light laugh, said, 'Don't you feel honoured, Cousin Gurnel?'

'Well, Miss Duke-upon consideration-can't say I do.' I was rather grim in my answer, between two moods, remember.

Out came the pouting lip. 'And for me to be at the trouble. But I thought you did look a miser over your compliments.' One could not be sure whether she were laughing at me or herself.

Soon I went on my errand. When I returned, which was not for three hours, I found quite a splendour of candles in the room, the music strewn over the piano, and half-adozen books on the table beside the young lady, herself buried in the depths of my luxurious easy-chair. All as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Yes, the most natural thing in the world. It did not so strike me at the time, but I received it on my mind, a negative ready to furnish any number of impressions when I had the leisure. The effect was heightened by the exceptional character of the room. Now this one room in the house was to me my room in the same sense that, as I have said, the work I had in the morning been engaged on was to me my work. Books from ceiling to floor on two sides; a piano and old carved furniture on another side; strange models in one corner; bronzes and busts here and there; on the wall some choice prints and one or two good oilpaintings-not purchased out of my own means, nor, indeed, to be purchased out of them: gifts at different times from my friends, Lord and Lady Uxford; many of them once their dear son's property. And my room might have been the library in their mansion, and the girl might have been-something more than a chance visitor.

I could report the transmission of the message, and a favourable answer from the Frekestons. 'In a quarter of an hour, Miss Duke, Mr. Frekeston's carriage will be round for you.'

'In a quarter of an hour, you say? They are very kind. I hope they are not too much inconveniencing themselves.'

Problem presenting itself to me -Consideration can be shown some people; is it to be resented?

'They seemed only too pleased,' I assured her. 'Mr. Frekeston himself is coming for you. And Mrs. Frekeston sent a special message that you were not to trouble yourself, she would provide anything you needed.' So her affairs

arranged, she subsided into the depths of her chair.

I, standing on the rug before the fire, subsided into a reverie having to-day's events for its subject; not attempting their arrangement, taking up one, and the next moment, as fancy dictated, laying it down for another - our wont with recent experiences yet in the rough.

You might be my brother there,' she said, suddenly breaking the silence. 'Only you are two sizes bigger, and he's not strong-looking. You are very like him.'

'A tremendous piece of impertinence on my part, isn't it now, Miss Duke?' An answer springing from the particular recollection at that precise moment occupying my mind.

The girl found me out in a moment. I quite deserved the lazy enjoyment in her eyes. Yet I must say for myself that these bubbles of jealousy in coming to the surface were dispersing themselves. I contrived to be more agreeable with my next words.

'This brother of yours, this Frank, which is he? I know so little of you, as you say.'

'Oh, Frank is the eldest. At least-well, Frances, my married sister, is older, but he's the eldest of the boys. Then comes Heriot; he's in India.'

'Heriot, well, I do very much hope he does credit to the name,' I said, slipping back into my captious mood.

She looked full at me with a new kind of gravity on her face. I should hope so, she answered, simply and yet spiritedly. My father was very fond of mamma, and it is her family name. And I am Maud, because it was her second name. It seems very nice to me. I like it should be so.'

I felt rebuked and told her so, and why. It appeared to afford her immense amusement.

'Don't you know, Mr. Duke,' she said, in her indolently saucy wayshe was never prettier than when she was impertinent it is as dangerous nowadays to wear one's conscience on one's sleeve as it is to wear one's heart?'