ther unfounded. You see that Lady Cecil, who piques herself on being clear-sighted in such matters, has no suspicion of anything of the sort, though she saw them constantly together; and, indeed, she hints that he was paying attention to Miss Mortimer.'

'Yes,' said Kate, 'but you see she was as much deceived in Lord John as we were; and she may have made the same mistake about Colonel Oliphant.'

'It is not likely.

At all events I am determined to make no more advances; for if he is in earnest, he should come forward and say so.'

Kate could not venture to reply that he had been discouraged in every attempt to do so; but she said, with a sigh:

'Poor Ellen looks so worn and wistful that it is quite grievous to see her. And though Norah

was quite in favour of Lord John, I think she would have tried to bring this other marriage about, when she saw that Ellen's heart was set on it.'

'Very possibly; but at the moment when we are reaping the consequence of her reckless scheming, I am not disposed to pursue the same line of conduct. As I said before, if Colonel Oliphant declares his attachment, I shall not refuse my consent, however reluctant to hear it said, that when more ambitious projects failed, we were content that Ellen should take the next chance which offered. But I am convinced that he does not intend to come forward.'

'Poor Ellen,' said Kate, almost involuntarily.

'Ellen will suffer, of course; it is fitting that she should do so, after acting such a part. But I believe that her vanity is wounded, rather than her affections; or if her heart be a little touched, I make no doubt that time will heal the wound, as it has done in other instances. Whether it can restore her former unconsciousness and singleness of purpose is more doubtful.'

'And about the visit to Houghton?' said Kate, too deeply interested to moralise on the matter.

'It is quite out of the question. She would only get into some fresh entanglement, especially as Colonel Oliphant is to be there. But it would certainly be well that she should be away from home when Lord John's engagement is declared, as it will cause much gossip and curiosity in the neighbourhood; so I think of returning with Louis to Brombe Magna, and taking Ellen with me. At any other time, I should be unwilling to expose her to Louis's absurd and boyish admiration; but that, and change of scene, may divert her from more foolish fancies.'

'People always say that change of scene is a good thing,' said Kate, as hopefully as she could.

'Yes; but you must not make Ellen more fanciful and sentimental, by hinting that I think it at all necessary in her case. There is only one comfort,' — and Anne's discomposure showed that comfort was sorely needed, 'Lady Cecil clearly feels that Lord John has behaved as ill as possible.'

Ellen was in the school-room, alone and unoccupied, when Anne entered; and she was not

surprised that her sister's first words were those of rebuke. 'Sitting here dreaming, Ellen? Could you find nothing better to do?'

'The boys have only just gone,' said Ellen; ' and it was not quite time to go and dress.'

'I suppose you mean to answer Lady Cecil's letter,' said Anne, as she restored it to her.

'Yes; if I knew what to say,' Ellen answered timidly.

'About the invitation to Houghton? I have just told Kate that I think of taking you to Uncle William's, as soon as the boys have gone to school; and that will be a sufficient excuse for declining Lady Cecil's invitation.'

'I promised to be Harriet's bridesmaid,' said Ellen, in a low unsteady voice, which contrasted sadly with her sister's trenchant reply.

'Yes; but the promise was made and exacted under very different circumstances. I am convinced that your refusal will be a relief to all parties; and you had better write at once, that no time may be lost in supplying your place.'

The letter was written that very evening, at the cost of how many tears the light-hearted Cecil never guessed; and though indignant at Ellen's defection, she was interested by the romantic excuse of the sailor-cousin's arrival to carry her off to his father's home, especially at a time when marriage between cousins appeared quite natural and expedient.

Another letter passed through the Dornton post-office that evening, from Colonel Oliphant to

his mother, of which it is only necessary to transcribe the concluding words:

'From what I have told you, you must conclude with me that it is worse than folly to linger here. I shall, however, make one more effort to see and speak to her, and ascertain from her own lips that the return of young Carew has altogether obliterated the passing fancy with which she honoured me; and that she has deliberately shunned my society, and acquiesced in the discourtesy with which I have been treated. And when I have received the only answer I can expect, I shall leave this place, and endeavour to forget as readily as I have been forgotten. You may, therefore, direct your next letter to London.'

CHAPTER XXXI.

Thus the fate of two lives was decided. It was the end. 'Io non piangeva, sì dentro impietrai.'

COLONEL OLIPHANT'S

W. J. THURSTON.

came groom

as

before for orders on Monday morning, and Ellen happened to be alone when the message was brought. 'Tell him,' she said, hurriedly, 'that we are much obliged to Colonel Oliphant; but I am not well enough to ride to-day, nor to go out at all.' In truth, she was really ill with agitation and sleeplessness; and it did not escape her cousin's notice when he came in.

'Why, Ellen,' he said, 'what is the matter? You look as white as the tablecloth.'

'I have a headache,' said Ellen.

'That is the consequence of sitting so much at home: all young ladies get sick for want of air. If you had walked over the Mere Downs with me this morning, you would be quite fresh and merry.'

'I agree with you,' said Anne, that Ellen does not take exercise enough. Suppose we make out a day on the Downs. We might all pack into the carriage and drive to the Roman camp, where we can dine while the horse is put up at the Holm