should say "a Thou." wouldn't cover the amount. Of course, if we can't get them from the estate, they must come out of my pocket.' Bargrave's eyebrows were raised. How the new school went ahead, he thought. Here was this nephew of his talking of a thousand pounds with an indifference verging on contempt. Well, that was Tom's lookout; nevertheless, on such a road it would be wise to establish a halting-place, and his tone betrayed more interest than common while he asked 'You won't take it into Chancery, Tom, will you?" The younger man laid his forefinger to the side of his nose, winked thrice with considerable energy, lifted his hat from its peg, adjusted his collars in the glass, nodded to his uncle, muttering briefly, 'Back in two hours,' and vanished. Old Bargrave looked after him with a grim, approving smile. 'Boy or man,' said he, aloud, 'that chap always knew what he was about. Tom can be safely trusted to take care of Number One.' He was wrong, though, on the present occasion. If Mr. Ryfe did indeed know what he was about, there could be no excuse for the enterprise on which he had embarked. He was selfish. He would not have denied his selfishness, and indeed rather prided himself on that quality; yet behold him now waging a contest in which a man wastes money, time, comfort, and self-respect, that he may wrest from real sorrow and discomfiture the shadow of a happiness which he cannot grasp when he has reached it. There is much wisdom in the opinion expressed by a certain fox concerning grapes hanging out of distance; but it is a wisdom seldom acquired till the limbs are too stiff to stretch for an effort till there is scarce a tooth left in the mumbling jaws to be set on edge. Tom Ryfe had allowed his existenc to merge itself in another's. For months, as devotedly as such natures can worship, he had been worshipping his ideal in the person of Miss Bruce. I do not say that he was capable of that highest form of adoration which seeks in the first place the unlimited sovereignty of its idol, and which, as being too good for them, women constantly undervalue; but I do say that he esteemed his fair client the most beautiful, the most attractive, and the most perfect of her sex, resolving that for him she was the only woman in the world, and that in defiance of everything, even her own inclinations, he would win her if he could. In Holborn there is always a Hansom to be got at short notice. 'Grosvenor Crescent,' says Tom, shutting the half-doors with a bang, and shouting his orders through the little hole in the top. So to Grosvenor Crescent he is forwarded accordingly, at the utmost speed attainable by a pair of high wheels, a well-bred 'screw,' and a roughlooking driver with a flower in his mouth. There are several peculiarities, all unreasonable, many ridiculous, attending the demeanour of a man in love. Not the least eccentric of these are his predatory instincts, his tendency to prowl, his preference for walking over other modes of conveyance, and his inclination to subterfuge of every kind as to his ultimate destination. Tom Ryfe was going to Belgrave Square; why should he direct his driver to set him down a quarter of a mile off? why overpay the man by a shilling? why wear down the soles of an exceedingly thin and elaborate pair of boots on the hot, hard pavement without compunction? Why? Because he was in love. This was also the reason, no doubt, that he turned red and white when he approached the square railings; that his nose seemed to swell, his mouth got dry, his hat felt too tight, and the rest of his attire too loose for the occasion; also that he affected an unusual interest in the numbers of the doors, as though meditating a ceremonious morning call, while all the time his heart was under the laburnums in the centre of the square gardens, at the feet of a haughty, handsome girl, dressed in half-mourning, with the prettiest black-laced parasol to be found on this side of the Rue Castiglione, for love-of which, indeed, as the gift of Mr. Ryfe, it was a type -or money, which, not having been yet paid for, it could hardly be said to represent. That heart of his gave a bound when he saw it in her hand as she sailed up the broad gravel-walk to let him in. He was almost happy, poor fellow, for almost a minute, not distressing himself to observe that the colour never deepened a shade on her proud, pale cheek; that the shapely hand, which fitted its passkey to the lock, was firm as a dentist's, and the clear, cold voice that greeted him far steadier than his own. It is a choice of evils, after all, this favourite game of cross-purposes for two. To care more than the adversary entails worry and vexation; to care less makes a burthen of it, and a bore. 'Thank you so much for coming, Miss Bruce-Maud,' said Tom, passionately. You never fail, and yet I always dread, somehow, that I shall be disappointed.' 'I keep my word, Mr. Ryfe,' answered the young lady, with perfect self-possession; 'and I am quite as anxious as you can be, I assure you. I want so to know how we are getting on.' He showed less discouragement than might have been expected. Perhaps he was used to this sang-froid, perhaps he rather liked it, believing it, in his ignorance, a distinctive mark of class; not knowing-how should he?-that, once excited, these thoroughbred ones are, of all races, the least amenable to restraint. 'I have bad news,' he said, tenderly. 'Miss Bruce, I hardly like to tell you that I fear we cannot make out case enough to come into court. I took the opinion of the first man we have. I am sorry to say he gives it against us. I am not selfish,' he added, with real emotion, 'and I am sorry, indeed, for your sake, dearest Miss Bruce.' He meant to have called her 'Maud;' but the beautiful lips tightened, and the delicate eyebrows came down very straight and stern over the deep eyes in which he had learned to read his fate, He would wait for a better opportunity, he thought, of using the dear, familar name. She took small notice of his trouble. 'Has there been no mismanagement?' she asked, almost angrily; 'no papers lost? no foul play? Have you done your best?" 'I have, indeed,' he answered, meekly. 'After all, is it not for my own interest as much as yours? Are they not henceforth to be in common?' She ignored the question altogether; she seemed to be thinking of something else. While they paced up and down a walk screened from the square windows by trees and shrubs already clothed in the tender, quivering foliage of spring, she kept silence for several seconds, looking straight before her with a sterner expression than he could yet remember to have seen on the face he adored. Presently she spoke in a hard, determined voice 'I am disappointed. Yes, Mr. Ryfe, I don't mind owning I am bitterly and grievously disappointed. There, I suppose it's not your fault, so you needn't look black about it; and I dare say you did the best you could afford at the price. Well, I don't want to hurt your feelings-your very best, then. And yet it seems very odd-you were so confident at first. Of course if the thing's really gone, and there's no chance left, it's folly to think about it. But what a future to lose-what a future to lose! Mr. Ryfe, I can't stay with Aunt Agatha I can't and I won't! How she could ever find anybody to marry her! Mr. Ryfe, speak to me. What had I better do?' Tom would have given a round sum of money at that moment to recall one of the many imaginary conversations held with Miss Bruce, in which he had exhausted poetry, sentiment, and forensic ardour for the successful pleading of his suit. Now he could find nothing better to say than that he had hoped she was comfortable with Mrs. Stanmore; and anybody who didn't make Miss Bruce comfortable must be brutal and wicked. But-butif it was really so-and she could be persuaded-why, Miss Bruce must long have known-' And here the voice of Tom, the plausible, the prudent, the self-reliant, degenerated to a husky whisper, because he felt that his very heart was mounting to his throat. Miss Bruce cut him exceedingly short. 'You remember our bargain,' she said, bitterly. 'If you don't, I can remind you of it. Listen, Mr. Ryfe; I am not going to cheat you out of your dues. You were to win back my fortune from the next of kinthis cousin, who seems to have law on his side. You charged yourself with the trouble-that counts for nothing, it is in the way of your business-with the costs-the expenses -I don't know what you call them -these were to be paid out of the estate. It was all plain sailing, if we had conquered; and there was an alternative in the event of failure. I accepted it. But I tell you, not till every stratagem has been tried, every stone turned, every resource exhausted, do I acknowledge the defeat, nor-I speak plain English, Mr. Ryfe-do I pay the penalty.' He turned very pale. You did not use this tone when we walked together through the snow in the avenue at Ecclesfield. You promised of your own accord, you know you did,' said poor Tom, trembling all over; 'and I have got your promise in writing locked up in a tin box at home.' She laughed a hard, shrill laugh, not without some real humour in it, at his obvious distress. 'Keep it safe in your tin box,' said she, 'and don't be afraid, when the time comes, that I shall throw you over. Ah! what an odd thing money is; and how it seems able to do everything!' She was looking miles away now, totally unconscious of her companion's presence. me this five or six thousand a year represents hope, enjoyment, positionall that makes life worth having. More, to lose it is to lose my freedom, to lose all that makes life endurable! To 'And you have lost it,' observed Tom, doggedly. He was not very brave, very highminded, very chi valrous in any way; but he possessed the truly British quality of tenacity, and did not mean to be shaken off by any feminine vagaries where once he had taken hold. ، 'Et je payerais de ma personne,' replied Miss Bruce, scornfully. I don't suppose you know any French. You must go now, Mr. Ryfe; my maid's coming back for me from the bonnet-shop. I can't be trusted you see over fifty yards of pavement and a crossing by myself. The maid is walking with me now behind these lilac-bushes, you know. Her name is Ryfe. She is very cross and silent; she wears a wellmade coat, shiny boots, rather a good hat, and carries a nosegay as big as a chimney-sweep's-you can give it me if you like I dare say you brought it on purpose.' How she could twist and turn him at will! three or four playful words like these, precious all the more that her general manner was so haughty and reserved, caused Tom to forget her pride, her whims, her various caprices, her too palpable indifference to himself. He offered the flowers with humble gratitude, ignoring resolutely the presumption that she would probably throw them away before she reached her own door. 'Good-bye, Miss Bruce,' said he, bowing reverently over the slim hand she vouchsafed him, and 'Good-bye,' echoed the young lady, adding, with another of those hard little laughs that jarred so on Tom's nerves, 'Come with better news next time, and don't give in while there's a chance left; depend upon it the money's better worth having than the client. By-the-by, I sent you a card for Lady Goldthread's this afternoon-only a stupid breakfast-Did you forget it?' 'Are you going?' returned Tom, with the clouds clearing from his brow. that the fruit he took such pains to ripen for his own gathering might be but gaudy wax-work after all, or painted stone, perhaps, cold, smooth, and beautiful, against which he should 'rasp his teeth in vain. The well-tutored Puckers, dressed in faded splendour, and holding a brown-paper parcel in her hand, was waiting for her young lady at the corner of the Square. While thus engaged she witnessed a bargain, of an unusual nature, made apparently under extraordinary pressure of circumstances. A ragged boy, established at the crossing, who had indeed rendered himself conspicuous by his endeavours to ferry Puckers over dryshod, was accosted by a shabbygenteel and remarkably good-looking man in the following vernacular 'On this minnit, off at six, Buster; two bob an'a bender, and a three of eye-water, in?' 'Done for another joey,' replied Buster, with the premature acuteness of youth foraging for itself in the streets of London. 'Done,' repeated the man, pulling a handful of silver from his pocket, and assuming the broom at once to enter on his professional labours, ere Puckers had recovered from her astonishment, or Buster could vanish round the corner in the direction of a neighbouring mews. Though plying his instrument diligently, the man kept a sharp eye on the Square gardens. When Tom Ryfe emerged through the heavy iron gate he whispered a deep and horrible curse, but his dark eyes shone and his whole face beamed into a ruffianly kind of beauty, when after a discreet pause, Miss Bruce followed the young lawyer through the same portal. Then the man went to work with his broom harder than ever. Not Sir Walter Raleigh spreading his cloak at the feet of his sovereign mistress lest they should take a speck of mud could have shown more loyalty, more devotion, than did Gentleman Jim sweeping for bare life, as Miss Bruce and her maid approached the crossing he had hired for the occasion. Maud recognized him at a glance. Not easily startled or surprised, she bade Puckers walk on, while she took a half-crown from her purse and put in the sweeper's hand. 'At least it is an honest trade,' said she, looking him fixedly in the face. The man turned pale while he received her bounty. 'It's not that, miss,' he stammered. 'It's not that-I only wanted to get a look of ye. I only wanted just to hear the turn of your voice again. No offence, miss, I'll go away now. Oh! can't ye give a chap a job? It's my heart's blood as I'd shed for you, free-and never ask no more nor a kind word in return!' She looked him over from head to foot once more and passed on. In that look there was neither surprise, nor indignation, nor scorn, only a quaint and somewhat amused curiosity, yet this thief and associate of thieves quivered, as if it had been a sun-stroke. When she passed out of sight he bit the halfcrown till it bent, and hid it away in his breast. 'I'll never part with ye,' said he, 'never;' unmindful of poor Dorothea, going about her work tearful and forlorn. Gentleman Jim, uneducated, besotted, halfbrutalized as he was, had yet drunk from the cup that poisons equally the basest and noblest of our kind. A well-dressed, good-looking young man, walking the other side of the square, did not fail to witness Tom Ryfe's farewell and Maud's interview with the crossing-sweeper. He too looked strangely disturbed, pacing up and down an adjoining street more than once, before he could make up his mind to ring a well-known bell. Verily Miss Bruce seemed to be one of those ladies whose destiny it is to puzzle, worry, and interest every man with whom they come in contact. (To be continued.) 4 I REFLECTIONS. NEVER met you, lady fair, In all her Majesty's dominions; Say, do you ponder o'er the one Perchance a cruel parent's word Bids fair to mar the bliss you dream of: Of such things in these days I've heard, Now Matrimony's made a scheme of. Well! if you're under age, you must Obey that parent's harsh directionRenounce your love:- but there! I trust That's not the subject of reflection. Or-it may be some handsome shawlNew bonnet-dress-or some such weakness Has seemed to make your toilette smallA thing that can't be borne with meekness! Be wise, if so, and seek relief Submit your sorrow to dissection. I'd give my head to learn your grief, The subject of such deep reflection. You've lost a locket, or a ring, A brooch, a purse with some amount in? At time unmeet her small account in? Although I never met you, dear, |