such a lazy girl" (she was forty-two last birthday) "that I don't like climbing stairs."

"You seem fond of nonconformist literature, my dear," languidly observed Mrs. Le Clerc, pointing to sundry Low Church sermons on the top bookshelf.

"And who's that hideous creature squinting at a goose-quill pen?" exclaimed Jessie, pointing to the portrait of Sarah Matilda.

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"A very pretty room," remarked Lady Maud, sinking into an easy-chair; a very pretty room. Nugent has done his best, poor fellow! He meant to be kind. They sha'n't find fault, shall they, Gertrude, darling?"

Meantime Miss Eliot Prichard made a dash at the piano, and commenced playing a waltz.

Gertrude exclaimed, "My dear, it is Sunday!"

"Oh dear-I forgot! Well, then, here goes for a mass!" And she dashed into Mozart.

"What spirits she has !" observed Mrs. Le Clerc, passing her vinaigrette once or twice under her nose.

Nugent listened no longer, but passed into his dressingHere, seizing a scrap of note-paper, he wrote a few lines to Gertrude, and, ringing his bell, gave the note to Lucy

room.

to take it to her mistress.

Lucy hastened into the drawing-room, where all the company were sipping coffee preliminary to their drive home. "Uncommon pretty girl!" remarked Mr. Edgar Clair to Sir Eliot. "But how deadly pale !"

"Pale? Just look at Mrs. Nugent. She's pale, if you like! And what are they all whispering about? Come, I shall be off. There seems a bit of a storm brewing. Go and get the horses put to; there's a good fellow."

Lord Swampshire was advancing to Mrs. Nugent to express a hope that they were right in surmising that Nugent had returned, when Lucy forestalled him by presenting the note to her. She read it, changed colour, and flung it into her mother's lap.

It was as follows:

"DEAR GERTRUDE,-I am come home tired, and do not feel up to company. In fact, I am not well. Make my excuse, and pray explain to me to-morrow morning what all this means.-Affectionately yours, "O. N." For, thought Nugent, I am just now excited, and it will be

best for me to sleep over the matter before discussing it. I cannot trust myself at this moment, and may say something I shall afterwards regret.

Lady Maud whispered to Gertrude

Lay all the blame on me, dearest. It will soon blow over. Don't look so dreadfully wild. Occupy yourself in getting those people away. I will help you."

Thus saying, Lady Maud glided into the group collected in the middle of the room, and, by anxiety about her own carriage, accelerated the preparations for departure.

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Nugent," she said to two or three-"Nugent has come home quite knocked up. Head aches terribly. Very sorry, but obliged to go bed. Jessie, dear, ring the bell; be sure they understand about the carriage. It is getting quite dark, and we have no lamps."

As soon as all except Lady Maud and Jessie were gone, Gertrude hastily approached her mother, and said—

"I shall now go and explain everything. I am not surprised he is vexed. Good-night, dear mother."

Lady Maud laid her soft hand on Gertrude's wrist.

66 Love, don't be foolish! Let him sleep over it. To-night he is tired and angry. Let him sleep it off." Gertrude hesitated.

"A few words only would suffice, dear mamma-a very few words. Had not I better go at once, and set all straight?"

"Send your maid, dear, with a nice little tray of sandwiches and hot negus, and your kind love. Don't rush into any discussions to-night. Sufficient for the day-you know the rest."

Gertrude yielded, but reluctantly. Instinct told her to go to him at all hazards. Her mother's reasoning restrained her. Which was in the right? The reader must judge. One thing Gertrude noticed as she went upstairs, vexed and anxious, namely, that the tray of sandwiches and the hot negus stood untasted on the slab outside Nugent's door. He had said he wanted nothing, and begged not to be disturbed, as he was going directly to bed.

CHAPTER XXV.

NUGENT'S REVENGE.

NUGENT rose the next morning soon after daybreak, and, summoning Edward, rode with him to two or three outlying portions of his farm. Soon the early mist began to clear, creeping up the hill-sides like wreaths of heavy smoke; whilst the sun, emerging from the gray bank of clouds that intercepted its light and heat, rose higher and higher in the heavens, and shed a broad flood of lustre over the valley, bringing out the lights and shadows of the thick woods which skirted the base of the hills, and turning the dusky rivulet that wound down their southern slope into a band of silver light. Then Nugent turned his horse's head, not towards home, but towards Lovell's rectory, and at the same time uttered almost the first words he had spoken to Edward that day,

"Edward, you may go home. Let Mrs. Nugent know that I intend to breakfast at the rectory, but shall be home by eleven o'clock."

Edward paused a moment, and then said as if with an effort,

"I hope I did not do wrong in writing to you?"

'Well, Edward," answered Nugent, after a moment's embarrassment, "your intentions were good, and I thank you."

So saying, he took the lad's hand and pressed it affectionately. Edward looked at Nugent with a brightening countenance, shook his pony's reins, and cantered off towards home. These two managed to communicate their ideas one to another with very few words. For hours they would ride, walk, or stand watching the men at work, and scarce say a word all the time. Nugent, having flung his horse's bridle over the wicket gate-post, walked up the gravel walk leading to the rectory. As he approached the door, a strong smell of burning arrested his attention. It seemed to come from the back of the house, and he therefore stepped quietly round to see if anything was amiss. As soon as he turned the corner, a mysterious spectacle presented itself. In the centre of a small terrace-walk at the back of the rectory, was a large heap, apparently of books and papers, in full blaze; whilst Lovell, in his gray loose overcoat, stood beside it, armed with a longhandled garden rake, with which every now and then he

vigorously stirred up the bonfire, until the smoke and flames compelled him to retreat a few paces for his own security.

Halloo,-Lovell !" exclaimed Nugent, "what's on foot

now?"

Lovell hastily flung down the rake, and, advancing to Nugent with a countenance expressive of the deepest agitation, exclaimed

"Haven't you heard? Smithers is gone !"

"Gone! where?" asked Nugent.

"Oh, to Rome, to be sure! Went last week. It's a sad thing!"

"What!" exclaimed Nugent, himself getting rather excited. "Do you mean he has joined the Church of Rome ?"

"It's too true-too true! I have it under his own hand and seal. Smithers is gone!"

"Where will it end?" asked Nugent, gloomily, as if addressing himself.

"See here!" said Lovell, recovering almost of a sudden his natural tone of voice, "It's really rather cool of him. Here have we, for three years, been constantly meeting, and discussing the controverted points of doctrine between our Church and the Church of Rome; he always maintaining that we were all right, and that the Church of England was a true branch of the church catholic, whilst Romanists were nothing but dissenters in this country. When all of a sudden he writes to me, and takes quite a high tone; warns me seriously of my unhappy vacillation of mind; urges me no longer to halt between two opinions; intimates broadly that I am privately and at heart an abandoned infidel, with a few redeeming amiabilities of disposition; and counsels me, in a condescending sort of way, to throw myself into the arms of my true spiritual mother, the Church of Rome! And then, to add insult to injury, he winds up with a quotation from one of the fathers, which he always used to hold was not genuine! It is really rather too bad!"`

And Lovell made a rush at the bonfire, and once more set it off crackling in a ruddy blaze.

"Well, but what are you burning?"

"Why, to tell the truth," rejoined Lovell, again returning from the bonfire,-"I am burning a lot of semi-Romanist books and periodicals I had by me. Lives of the Saints, translations of Romish devotional books, an adaptation of the Litany of the Blessed Virgin for the use of members of

T

the English communion, and a lot of other things which I want to put out of my way at once and for ever."

"Right!" commented Nugent-" perfectly right!"

"Mind, I don't say," continued Lovell, "that other men might not have these things by them, and read some of them. with advantage. It is possible. But I am going to take Smithers' advice in one respect. I am not going to halt between two opinions. And so I have done with these half-andhalf productions. I find, if I follow the road Smithers and his set were taking me, it must logically end in Rome. There' is no help for it. Now, there are some things in the Church of Rome which I heartily abominate, and therefore I prefer staying where I am."

Nugent pressed his hand, and said

"I wish you would run your eye over the Whispers of the Zodiac, Dr. Going's last. I think it would be a comfort." "I don't know that," added Lovell. "Though my Romanism be exploded, I am unlikely, for all that, to collapse into a puritan. But allow me to ask, Nugent, what gives me the pleasure of your company so early?"

"Why, first of all, I am come to ask for a breakfast; and then, secondly, I want to have a talk with you."

"Come along, then! Breakfast is just ready." And they entered the house arm in arm.

The conversation at breakfast chiefly turned upon Smithers' defection, and the likelihood of others following his example. At last, Nugent rather abruptly exclaimed

"In the course of a few weeks, Lovell, I am going to London. Can I do anything for you there?"

66

Well, my dear fellow, I will let you know in good time; but a few weeks is rather a long notice. What stay do you

make?"

"That depends. But it is not merely a day or two's visit. I purpose taking a house for two or three months, and am not sure whether we shall return here afterwards. Possibly we shall settle elsewhere for a year or two."

Lovell seemed surprised.

"What, leave the neighbourhood for good? Give up your house? your farm? How shall we get on without you?"

"I trust we shall come back eventually. There are reasons for our leaving which I cannot well explain. I trust, with the blessing of heaven, we may return here after a while. But go we must."