voice, while Olivia stood looking silently at the portrait, and then. taking the case from her hands put it back again in the drawer. Olivia stooped down and kissed him on the forehead: he went on with his writing, and she left the room.

On one occasion only did her father show much animation on domestic matters. It happened a few days after she arrived. They were just rising from the breakfast table, and Justine, who always took that meal with them, had left the room, when Olivia said, "I have had a letter this morning from cousin Rupert, papa."

"Cousin Rupert!" said her father with surprise; "what do you know of cousin Rupert?" laying emphasis on the cousin.

"Why, papa, of course I know him very well; don't you remember that he came to Venice on his way home, when my aunt and I were staying there, and that you wrote to us about him?"

"True," replied the father, "I had forgotten that for the moment; but things have altered since then. I certainly did not think he would venture to write to you after what has happened. But it is just like

him."

"What has happened, papa? Poor fellow he speaks of being in trouble, but does not say what is the cause of it."

"I would rather not go into the story, my dear. It is a long business, and not a very pleasant one, where relationship is concerned; but I have given up all communication with him. However, it does not appear that he has acquainted you with the fact ;" and Mr. Cunningham spoke in a sarcastic tone, unlike his usual manner. "But, papa," said Olivia, after a pause, may there not be some misunderstanding which could be

cleared up? So honourable a man as my cousin Rupert"

"You are begging the question, Olivia. It is because I don't think your cousin Rupert is an honourable man that our intimacy is broken off. You seem to think I have been hard on him," continued her father, seeing that Olivia looked unconvinced; "but I think you may give me credit for not having formed my opinion lightly. And if," he added in a lower voice, and turning away, "I am to suppose that he has taken advantage of your trustfulness to create a feeling for him which he knows I should disapprove, I should think still less favourably of him than I do already."

"Then, papa," said Olivia, looking down and blushing slightly, as he was moving from the room," do you wish me not to send any answer to this?" and she held out the letter in her hand. "Will you not read it yourself, and see what he says?"

"No, my dear, thank you; I have no wish to see it, nor to dictate to you what you should do in regard to it. I am sure I may rely implicitly on your good sense and judgment in this as in all matters." And so saying, her father left the room.

Thus appealed to, Olivia had virtually no choice, and her cousin's letter remained unanswered; but it was with a sad heart that she tried to reconcile her duty to her father's wishes with this neglect of her relative, and the struggle might have betrayed to herself the degree of interest with which he had inspired her. Till this time she had hardly been sensible how much of the pleasurable anticipations with which she had set out for India had been due to the prospect of meeting her cousin. And now to think that Rupert,

who had always seemed in her young imagination the type of the noble, honourable soldier, should be as one whose name even was hardly to be spoken of. Some dreadful fault he must have committed for her father, usually so kind, to be thus sternly disposed towards him. Might it not be, however, that he had been misjudged? He said he had enemies who were bent on traducing his character. There must be some mistake! And yet her father spoke so positively, and he seemed kind and just in everything else. Thinking sadly over this, Olivia strove to stifle the romantic interest with which her cousin had inspired her; and what might readily have become a warmer feeling, if opportunity had been propitious, was now succeeded by a sentiment of pity.

The unanswered letter was follows:

:

as

"MY DEAR COUSIN,-It is so long since any letters have passed between us, that I ought not to be surprised if you did not recognise the handwriting of this one. Not that I judge by my own feelings in this respect, for I don't think I should fail to know yours wherever I might come across it; but we have both passed through many scenes since we met at Venice, and although my memory naturally clings to those pleasant hours, I could scarcely complain if you had forgotten them, especially as you were so much younger then-quite a girl, in fact! I suppose you must be a good deal altered-young people do change fast, don't they?— but at any rate it can be only in one direction. I wish I knew when there would be a chance of my being able to renew our acquaintance; but I have been in some trouble lately, and want to put myself right first with the world,

especially with those whose good opinion I value most. It is a slanderous world, and I hope my cousin will not listen to the evil tales she may hear of one whose fault it has been to make enemies of those who can't bear that a younger man should understand his profession better than they do, and who values her good opinion before everything else. I hope you will meet our mutual friend Colonel Falkland before long. He at any rate is the soul of honour; and, standing well with him, who knows the facts of the case, I can afford to despise the slanders of those who repeat the scandals at second-hand of things they know nothing about.

"This is an egotistical letter, but if I begin writing about Olivia herself, I should never know when to stop asking questions. She will, I hope, anticipate my anxiety on this head, by giving me full particulars about herself, whenever she can find time to devote a few minutes to her old friend and relative.

"Pray give my remembrances to your father, if he cares to receive them, and believe me, my dear Olivia, always your affectionate cousin,

RUPERT KIRKE."

Then came the recognition at the ball, when Kirke wanted to make his way towards Olivia, and her father stopped him. To Olivia, witnessing the scene, there came up a reproach from her conscience that she was failing in her duty to her cousin; a sense of wrong done in thus abandoning him replaced for the moment the feeling till then uppermost, that he was an unhappy man who was to be pitied for his fall through some unspeakable crime, and she thought with a penitent heart that she had been cowardly in not asking Colonel Falkland's aid on her cousin's behalf. The latter had spoken of Falkland as the one friend who still stood by

him, and believed in his innocence. To him she would appeal to set her unfortunate cousin right.

These reflections, and no response to the emotion which had stirred poor Yorke's heart to its depths, as the foolish young fellow had fondly imagined, occupied Olivia's thoughts before she fell asleep on the night of the ball; and the opportunity for carrying out her purpose soon arrived. She meant to speak to Falkland during the day, after her father had gone to his court; but the subject came up at breakfast, being opened by Falkland himself, who said, addressing the Commissioner, just as Justine was quitting the room after despatching her share of the meal, "I forgot to mention that I had a letter from your cousin, Rupert Kirke, yesterday. He is coming to Mustaphabad immediately."

"He has arrived," replied Mr. Cunningham, coldly; "I thought you might have seen him at the ball last night."

Falkland looked surprised and as if awaiting further explanation, while Olivia with changed colour sat expectant. Her father, after a slight pause, went on, "He left the room at my instance, I believe. I said to him that as I had declined to have any further intimacy or communication with him, it would be better that he should not renew his acquaintance with Olivia; and I must say so much for him that he had the good taste to act on my ad vice. But what brought him here I don't understand, knowing my sentiments."

"He comes to Mustaphabad to see the great man, while his camp is here, with a view to getting his case reopened."

"Did you advise the attempt, knowing the facts of his case ?"

"I cannot say that I actually advised him to do so; he had let the

proper time go by for the only appeal he ought to have insisted on. My own opinion would have been for letting time have its effect, now that it is too late to demand a courtmartial; but I did not say anything to dissuade him from making this personal appeal at once."

"Oh, Colonel Falkland," broke in Olivia, eagerly, "do say that you do not think so hardly of my cousin as papa does. He values your good opinion above everything, I know. dreadful thing for the poor fellow to be cast off even by his friends in his troubles."

It does seem

a

Falkland looked with surprise at the fair speaker, as she waited anxiously for his answer, for he did not know till then that she had thought at all about the matter. Then he said gravely, but with a kind smile

"Your cousin has been very careless, no doubt, and there have been irregularities in this business which ought not to have occurred, and which no doubt bear a very unfavourable appearance; but I should think much worse of human nature than I do if I could believe that so gallant a soldier as Rupert Kirke were guilty of anything positively dishonourable."

to fear from publicity, why did he not insist upon one being held upon him?"

"It was a grave error of judgment, no doubt," observed Falkland, slowly; "he should not have left the decision in the matter to the Government; but having once made the mistake, it was perhaps too late to rectify it."

66

Well," said the Commissioner, rising from the table, "I am very glad that Olivia should have some grounds for taking a more charitable view of the matter than I am able to do, and I am quite willing both you and she should think I am unreasonably hard about it;" and so saying he went to his own room, adding to himself" but I believe I know a good deal more about some points of the affair than even you do, Falkland."

"I am just going down to the cantonments," said Falkland to Olivia, when they were left alone," and shall see your cousin this morning. In fact I am going there on purpose to see him. Shall I give him any message from you if he asks after you?"

"Thank you," she replied, warmly; "please say how heartily I grieve about this But, no- "she continued, correcting herself, "it would hardly be proper to send him messages while papa's house is closed against him, would it?" and she looked up in his face asking for a reply.

"You are right, Olivia, in this as in everything; but I may at least say for you that he has your full sympathy in his troubles."

"Oh yes, please say all that, and my heartfelt wishes for happier days for him, poor fellow!" The love that might have been had now turned all to pity.

"She has grace and beauty enough to furnish twenty women," said the colonel to himself, as he stepped into

his carriage, "and withal is as guileless and simple as a child.”

"I have seen Kirke to-day," said Falkland in the evening, as the occupants of the Residency were strolling in the garden, "and his Excellency gave him an interview, at which I was present. I am sorry to say the result was not satisfactory. The former holds out no prospect of reinstating him. Kirke returns tonight to his own station." No more passed on the subject.

This was the beginning of Falkland's brief and successful courtship. When, shortly after Olivia's arrival, he came to pay a promised visit of greeting to his godchild, his feelings were merely those of kindly interest, and curiosity to see how far she might have fulfilled the promise of her young girlhood. She, for her part, had merely an uncertain recollection of a person associated in her mind with middle age, whom she knew to be kind and good, and on whose friendship her father set a high value. Middle-aged he was, but the difference between them seemed no longer what it was when the slight girl in the broad-brimmed straw hat had led the grave soldier over the picture-galleries of Florence. Falkland was still grave and somewhat taciturn, although not without humour, but there was nothing of the old man about him. Erect, active, and soldier-like in habit, spare in diet, a student of books, and yet a busy public man, he had outlived the egotism of youth without acquiring the hardness of age, while his unselfishness and sympathy for others rendered his society fascinating alike to old and young. With natives he was as popular as with Europeans. His servants plundered him freely after the fashion of their kind, and would have followed him to death. Young men sought his advice in trouble. Children found him out and took to

him at once wherever he went. And after a two months' courtship, Olivia had accepted him for a husband.

The love was at first all on his side, and for some time he battled with the feeling, asking himself now and again if a weather-beaten old bachelor such as he, was fitted to make this beautiful and brilliant young creature happy; whether he would not be acting a wiser and less selfish part to withdraw from all competition for her hand, and leave her to find a mate among younger men. He had practised self-denial of the kind before and outlived the effort. Should he be less unselfish now that he was grown old? Olivia, for her part, made no secret of her liking for him, but her affection did not take the form of that young love which comes at some time to most women. There were no restless misgivings, no anxious recallings of spoken words, no impatient waiting for the beloved one's return. In place of the tumultuous emotions that make up the first days of ordinary courtship the doubts and hopes chasing each other through the heart -there was merely a feeling of confidence and admiration. His society made everything seem bright; whatever he said and did seemed best and wisest; with him she felt always more at ease than even with her father. Withal she could not but be affected by the unconscious flattery implied in the footing of equality on which so distinguished a man placed her. Yet all this was not love; and up to the time when Olivia and her father paid their visit to Falkland, shortly after his return to his own station, she had at most but dimly discerned the coming prospect; and when Falkland, one day when they were pacing his garden together, revealed an episode in his early life, telling her how in years gone by he had nourished

a

passionate affection for her

mother, but, seeing that her heart was given elsewhere, had till now kept the secret of his love, so that not even the object of it had suspected its existence; and since she could not be his had remained unwedded, till now the daughter seemed the mother of his youth come back to life in almost more than her own sweetness and grace; and then, so much disclosed, asked, would that daughter entrust the keeping of her happiness to an old fellow like himself, young in heart if old in face? when Falkland

spoke thus, the avowal took Olivia by surprise, although, had she analysed her feelings, she must have known that their intimacy had gone beyond the bounds of mere friendship. But her answer was given without doubt or misgiving, for it seemed called from her by feelings of admiration and respect for him, mingled with the humility which marked her character. Placing her hand in his she turned on him a glance of her sweet face, and with a trustful smile said she would endeavour to deserve and return his love.

The Commissioner, when the news was announced to him the same evening, was equally surprised and delighted, and it at once determined him to a resolve which he had been thinking of making for some days past-namely, to take leave to Europe at once, instead of trying to patch up his failing health by a visit to the hills. Nor would he hear of Olivia returning with him, as she proposed to do, indefinitely postponing the time of her marriage. "He was not so ill as to require nursing," he said; adding jocosely, "that his old friend had been a bachelor so long he could not afford to be kept waiting any longer." Truth to say, Cunningham rather preferred the idea of travelling home comfortably alone, stopping