his life, he looked at them with the fear of losing them at his heart. The Squire had said that the horses must go, and the land must be let up to the windows.' But this would surely not be necessary, if only he, Jack, should be able to do with very little? Still, he had listened to the horses, rustling and stamping in their comfortable stalls, as he passed the stables, and his glance had rested lingeringly on the smooth lawn and the fine trees, with their pleasure-ground aspect.

One of the effects of a sudden change was making itself evident to Jack; it felt like a long time since yesterday, since this morning; it seemed as if, all things being so different, he could not possibly be the same. Not that he was thinking it out methodically; there was no such systematic wisdom and coldbloodedness about him; his mind was, so to speak, in a great whirl, and amid his confused feelings only two were clear and persistent. He hoped Mr. Dexter would not declare the Line also to be out of the question, and he wondered what all the fellows would say.

It was early in the year for Mrs. Wynn to carry her needlework out of doors, but the fineness of the day and the weariness of her spirits had tempted her to go down to the arbour boathouse, during the absence of Mavis, who had gone to see the curate in charge about the church music for the next Sunday. The pargonage was in the neighbourhood of Squire Bassett's house, and Mavis on this occasion also availed herself of the short cut effected by crossing the river. Thus, when Jack, in the course of his walk, came to the fields facing (with the river between) the ancient side of Fieldflower Farm, he found the boat fastened to its post, and, looking across, saw Mrs. Wynn sitting in the arbour. Although he had not forgotten his purpose of visiting the farm, or that subtle pretext of the pointer pup, he had not taken the path over the bridge by which he would have reached the front gate; he had not been thinking of where he was going, and the sight of the boat was a suggestion on which he acted promptly. Making a speaking-trumpet of his hands, Jack shouted to the occupant of the arbour:

'How do you do, Mrs. Wynn? I am coming across.'

Mrs. Wynn rose hurriedly, dropping her needlework, and received 'Mr. Jack,' as he stepped out of the boat, with her usual half-frightened respect. Wynn was not in the way, she said, he had gone to Chester, and she hoped she saw Mr. Jack well.

She saw Mr. Jack very well indeed, and very glad to be at Bassett again and to see all his friends. What fine weather they were having, and how jolly the old place was looking! Mr. Jack was a little disjointed in his talk and rather fidgety in his manner,

looking about him a good deal, sitting down and getting up again, and not attending much to Mrs. Wynn's civilities. She was greatly put about by Wynn's absence, when Mr. Jack was so kind. as to come to the farm, and he such a little time at home too.

'Never mind about that, Mrs. Wynn,' said Jack, in the cheery tones which the poor woman declared to Mavis did her as much good as the hymns on Sunday; 'I've lots of time on my hands. I can come to see Wynn and the pup any day.'

'It's a beauty, Mr. 'I'm sure of that.

Wynn wouldn't use it;

Jack.'

But how came the boat on the other side? he's gone the other way.'

'Oh no, Mr. Jack,' answered Mrs. Wynn: 'it was Mavisthat's Wynn's daughter, you know. She's come home to live with us now since her Aunt and Uncle Jeffrey's death; she's gone down to the parsonage, and she took the boat across.'

'I must return as I came then, and leave it back for Miss Wynn. I had the pleasure of meeting her yesterday; she was very good to my dog, Trotty Veck. I should have brought Trotty to see you, Mrs. Wynn, only that he is still a little lame, for you really do know a good dog when you see one. Did you say Miss Wynn' had been gone some time?'

'Since just after dinner. I could let you see the pup now, if you liked, Mr. Jack.'

'No, no, thank you, I think I will not mind it to-day. It would be better to wait for Wynn, perhaps. You must be glad to have Miss Wynn with you; it has been rather lonely for you, and Miss Nestle says you haven't been very well since Christmas, when I was at home last.'

Now this was just what Mrs. Wynn liked in Mr. Jack; for a young gentleman like him he was so knowledgeable and kind in his ways. Why, even when he was quite a boy, he would speak nice and quiet, and keep from knocking things about on account of her poor head; a plea which had no chance whatever with her ordinary surroundings. Praise of this simple kind lavished upon the object of their common admiration constituted Mrs. Wynn's chief contributions to the conversation when she and Miss Nestle, of whom the farmer's wife was rather afraid, met. This was well, for it mollified the contempt with which Miss Nestle was disposed to regard Mrs. Wynn on account of her feeble notions of housekeeping, and lack of enthusiasm for that fine and precious art.

'It is very friendly of Miss Nestle to think about my health, I'm sure, Mr. Jack, and it is but poorly at the best of times, as she knows. But Mavis is a good companion to me, and if it was not for herself I should be very glad of her coming home.'

But why "for herself"?' asked Jack, with frank curiosity, and taking a seat on the bench by Mrs. Wynn's side; isn't it all right for her too?'

'Well, no, Mr. Jack, it isn't quite; because Mavis has had such a good education, you see, on account of her Uncle and Aunt Jeffrey being in that line, and there's no way here for her to keep it up. There's no books, except those old ones in Wynn's room, and her own, that's mostly school prizes, and there's no way for her music unless it's the church hymns on Sundays. So that,' added Mrs. Wynn, pulling herself up with a sudden consciousness that there was not much to interest a young gentleman in all this, is why it is not so good for her as it is for me. But I beg your pardon, Mr. Jack, for talking about it to you.'

'Not at all, not at all,' said Jack. Of course I quite see that it must be an awful bore for Miss Wynn to have no books and no piano; but isn't that Miss Wynn coming from the far side of the field opposite? Tall, in black, with a straw hat?'

'Yes,' said Mrs. Wynn, bending forward to follow the indication of his hand; that is Mavis.'

6

Jack got into the boat without a word more, pulled across the stream, and advanced towards the figure coming slowly-for Mavis was reading a sheet of music as she walked-on the other side. Mrs. Wynn watched him as he neared the girl, unconscious of his presence, and, raising his hat, addressed her. Then she saw Mavis pause they spoke together-and presently walked down to the water's edge.

'I have made free with your boat already once to-day,' said Jack, and now you must let me take you across.'

6

But who is to take you back again, for the boat must be housed?' Mavis asked, with an unembarrassed smile. We should be like the people who saw each other home until morning.'

'Not at all; I shall go back by the road.'

He placed her in the boat-it was pleasant to be thus waited on like a lady—she had been long enough at home to have her perceptions sharpened on that point-and they were presently in the middle of the little river.

Jack ceased to ply the sculls, and looked deliberately about him.

6

'What a pity it's so short a pull across,' he said; this is just the sort of day for a good row, a few minutes of it is only tantalising. Must I really take you straight over?'

Jack had discovered yesterday that Farmer Wynn's daughter was very unlike what she might have been expected to be; he had

now made the further discovery that her eyes were of his favourite colour, for eyes, and that her speech was as sweet-toned as some other women's singing. She had not uttered more than half a dozen sentences to him, but that did not matter at all; there are moods in which impressions are rapid, and there are natures that receive them deeply.

'Mrs. Wynn is looking out for me,' said Mavis, simply, and there will be father's tea to see to.'

How Jack hated Mavis's father, and how he resented his tea! He could have 'squared' Mrs. Wynn easily, but there was impossibility in Mavis's quiet reply. The idea of a girl like this one, with such eyes and such a voice, having to 'see to' anybody's tea, aroused a sudden antagonism to the existing order of things in Jack's breast.

He lingered about for some time after he had housed the boat, and talked in his youthful pleasant way, but Mrs. Wynn and Mavis were so uneasy and constrained that he could not fail to see it, and reluctantly took his departure, having made a formal appointment for the inspection of the pointer pup on the following day, subject to Farmer Wynn's convenience.

'They were horribly uncomfortable about his coming home,' thought Jack. He has always been pleased to see me at the farm, so it could not be that. I suspect he's a bit of a brute to that poor delicate wife of his. I wonder how he treats his daughter.'

It was surprising how hot and angry the doubt that was involved in this speculation made Jack Bassett feel. His visit to Fieldflower Farm was only an episode in the history of a momentous day in the young man's life; only an interval between the disclosure of the morning and the resolution and action which had to be taken as its consequence, a trifling incident hardly worth recording; yet in the time to come, when his recollection of the serious events of that day had grown confused and dim, when he could not have quoted his father's words, or recalled his own sensations on hearing them, every trivial detail of that episode, every moment of that interval, every look, word, and gesture which had marked the insignificant interview between himself and Mavis Wynn was distinct and present to him. Who is there that can define the strictly commonplace in his own life, or infallibly discern it in another's?

Mr. Bassett and his son had always been very good company for each other, for nothing that concerned or interested Jack could ail to occupy his father. They were even better company than usual that evening, for neither had now any concealment from the other, and this relief made itself felt at their cheerful tête-à-tête

dinner, although the topic of the morning was not referred to until afterwards. Then the Squire told Jack that he intended to go up to London, and transact his business in person.

6

We will start together,' said the Squire, on Thursday; you can take me to Chester before you go to Trescoe Park.'

CHAPTER VII.

EARLY DAYS.

WHEN on the following day Jack Bassett walked over to Fieldflower Farm, accompanied by Trotty Veck, now convalescent, his mind was almost equally set upon both the purposes of his visit. He wanted to see the pointer pup, being indeed unaccountably desirous of conciliating its owner, and he also wanted to see Mavis and get her to promise that she would come to the House and keep up her music by playing on the unused pianoforte. If he made her the invitation, he felt sure neither the Squire nor Miss Nestle would seriously oppose it, but he thought it more prudent to say nothing to Miss Nestle beforehand; he had a prophetic dread that she might propound her favourite axiom to either the Squire or himself as an objection. There were the books, too; he was glad Mrs. Wynn had mentioned Mavis's privations in that respect; he would take her some at once, and tell her that the contents of the library were at her disposal. What sort of books did she like? he wondered. There were lots of novels among the Bassett books, and the Squire took in all the important serials. It was the golden prime of Dickens, and Thackeray was a world's wonder at that time. Jack hoped to find that Mavis preferred Lever, as he did, and finally set off with Tom Burke of Ours' under his arm.

The first part of his mission sped fairly well. Wynn was in the farmyard, and he received the Squire's son with what stood for cordiality with him. He was indeed quite good-humoured, and not only took the visitor into the big parlour, but addressed his wife civilly with the remark that Mr. Jack had come to see her. Any reference to his daughter would have seemed superfluous to Wynn, even had she been present, but she was not, and conversation went on in a constrained and halting manner, until a fortunate summons took the farmer away, when Jack boldly stated that he had brought some books for Miss Wynn, and also propounded his views about the piano.

'It's very kind indeed of you, Mr. Jack,' said Mrs. Wynn, 'and