whom Hero had given her love; that the engagement was unacknowledged, that it had been entered into by themselves, and that even her father's sanction had not been formally asked. He refused Captain Carthew's invitation to come in, under a plea that the hour was too late; and then, when the door had fairly closed upon them, he deliberately retraced his steps back to where he had so recently heard his hopes crushed. Leaning his arms on a rocky projection, he stood, going over the whole scene again. Surely he had a right to feel rebellious. Was his love never to find a resting-place? He had been so conficent, so secure-seeing no one whom Hero cared for, he had felt sure that she cared for no one. Who could it be? Who had forestalled him in securing the love he now longed and thirsted after with an intensity of feeling before unknown to him? Every now and then his fancy took a wild flight, and he imagined some catastrophe absence -time - a thousand obstacles snapping the chain which bound the object of his desire to any other but himself. He could do anything, wait any time; but he could not give her up. He would not forego hope. Surely, in that moment when their hearts seemed to beat a language for which the tongue finds no utterance, he had read her rightly. If so come what might, she should be his. Hero in the meantime was screening her pale face and darkly circled eyes under that woman's shield, a headache. She said she must go straight to bed, she could hardly speak, she felt so ill; and Alice promised in her stead to light the Captain's pipe, and talk to him while he smoked it. her one definite thought was that Leo was coming back either to-morrow or the day after; then their engagement must be made public- there must be no more concealment - and her tears flowed afresh, feeling that the one who should have known it had only learned it too late. Love is blind in more ways than one. Sometimes the mischievous urchin closes the eyes of his victims to his own presence, lulling them into a security which he employs in forging the fetters which, until felt, are seldom seen. Knowing the hour that Sir Stephen. and her father had appointed to start on their boat-buying expedition, Hero contrived that before that time arrived she and Alice should have left home with the avowed intention of issuing the invitations for the following Wednesday. "Here, I say," said the Captain, suddenly noticing Sir Stephen's haggard face; "why, you look as if you'd been draining the blood of a turnip field. Why, what's the matter, eh?" "I don't think that wine suited me last night," said Sir Stephen. "Somehow, I never can drink port." "I see!" and the Captain eyed him mournfully; "you're a bad ship to put a good cargo into. Well, upon my life, if I know what you young fellows are coming to. You do look uncommonly seedy, though; perhaps we'd best put off going for a day or two." But to this Sir Stephen would not listen. The sail to Cargill, he said, would do him good-not that there was anything the matter with him. "No, no," laughed the Captain; "you only feel as if the cat had got you, and the Emperor of Rooshia had got the cat. I know all about it. But you must brisk up as we go through the village, or they'll give us credit for having been three sheets in the wind last night; for they know I dined up at Combe. And how are the ladies this morning?" "I have not seen either of them. I spoke to my mother through the door, and heard that she was all right; but Í was off for a good spin before they were down." Betsey, with the intuitive sharpness which love bestows upon all, saw something had gone wrong with her darling; but she never asked a question or hazarded an inquiry. She waited upon her and undressed her with motherly care, and finally putting her great strong arms round her, as she had done when Hero was a little child, she called her her pride, her cosset, Betsey's dear, she was," until the icy hold which gripped the girl's quick emotions melted away, and, clinging to her old nurse, she sobbed Yes; I want to see Truscott. I must as if her heart would break. She did not begin to set this place in order without ask herself why these tears came. She delay. I shall find plenty to occupy me only knew that it was a relief to give vent for months to come. I daresay," he to her misery, and to take her fill of sor- added, after a pause, "that you will not In the midst of all her troubles, I think it is saying much for myself, but row. "Then you'll be tired before we return, for I suppose we are to go on to Dockmouth?" 66 do you know that until quite recently I| never knew that this property was anything but a handsome incumbrance?" The Captain indicated his surprise by a comical pursing up of his face. "Of course," Sir Stephen continued, "if I had taken the slighest trouble to find out, I should have seen that the reason of my receiving next to nothing from Mallett was, that it was all but drained dry to keep up Pamphillon, which my uncle left in a terrible state. My mother sold what property she possessed to raise money. Combe she could not sell, but the lawyers contrived to make it contribute pretty freely to the general fund without its getting the slightest credit." "Terrible said the Captain. "Oh! it was not their fault. I ought to have come down here long ago, but somehow I was brought up with a prejudice against Combe. My mother never could bear to hear the place named — not that, except by hearsay, she knew anything of it." fellows, those lawyers!" That's the way," laughed the Captain. "Give a dog a bad name, and hang him. However, we won't talk of what you might have done; here you are now, and better late than never." "She must have married very young. What did her husband die of?" "Well, I am not quite certain — old age, I think." "Old age! pack of stuff and nonsense! don't tell me that she married an old man. What in heaven's name made her do that?" "Ten thousand a year is the supposed inducement." By Jove! what a sacrifice!" Oh, I don't know; she has what she married for. He left her everything he possessed — an estate in Scotland, and a place near the lakes." "I say," said the Captain, with a confidential nod of his head, "I should throw in my hat there. A fellow doesn't often get such a chance, eh?" Sir Stephen laughed at the meaning conveyed. "She flies too high for me," he said. The Captain gave a low whistle. Nothing short of a prince of the royal blood, I suppose? 66 | "Twould be a shame for her to marry a rich man, though." "Well, perhaps yes. She must find some one willing to be saddled with her benefits." Sir Stephen did not answer. He could have said, that having delayed so long, it would have been for his happiness now had he never set foot in the place. Everything he did and said seemed to connect itself with the bitter disappointment up"I think I could find two or three permost in his mind. All the while he who'd stand pretty quiet under the burwas talking to the Captain, he was long- den," laughed the Captain, though I ing to ask after Hero, but something won't answer about kicking over the made it impossible to mention her name, traces after. You know the old proverb, without the Captain seeing that he wasSet a beggar on horseback making an effort to appear the same as asual. At length he got out Miss Carthew has stolen a march on us this morning?" "Yes, she is asking her friends for Wednesday. I tell her she must brisk up a bit before then; she complained of not feeling well this morning. Betsey says she's not been well for a week, but I didn't notice it before." "She complained last night," Sir Stephen said, with a mingled feeling of pity and exultation. If she had no love for him, surely she would not take his sorrow so to heart. 66 Hal loo!" he exclaimed, looking up a lane towards a pretty cottage, "a soldier at Aunt Lydia's? Then I suppose Mr. Leo is back again." But Sir Stephen took no heed of this remark; his thoughts had gone back to Hero. What was she doing, feeling, thinking - and was she, like him, heavyhearted? Could he have read the innermost thoughts of Hero's heart, it is probable that he would have been satisfied, for never had the poor girl passed such a miserable day. She had learnt from Aunt Lydia that Leo was expected to arrive during the afternoon, and she sat "Your cousin, Mrs. Labouchere, is an uncommonly fine woman," said the Cap-in nervous anticipation of their meeting, tain. "Yes." and of the conversation she intended having with him. Mr. Joslyn had early taken Alice back to Winkle, so that Hero was able to enjoy alone the full misery of her own companionship. She dreaded, yet longed for Leo's presence; her heart beat violently with each sound, and died away when she discovered that her fears were unfounded. Sometimes she thought that she would go up and see if he had arrived; then she would fancy she heard his step; until five o'clock struck, and she knew that if he did not soon come, she had little chance of seeing him alone. While she was wondering whether he had been delayed, Betsey came in to lay the cloth for dinner, and before these arrangements were completed, Captain Carthew arrived. "I wanted Sir Stephen to come in," he said, "but he wouldn't; he isn't the thing at all to-day. I could hardly get a word out of him." Hero bent her head to avoid her quick colour being seen. "Oh, by the way, has Leo been down? He's back." 66 No, I have not seen him." "Ah, he'll turn up soon, I daresay," said the Captain, with the unpleasant conviction that there was no getting rid of almost the only visitor to whom he could not always give a cordial welcome. Hero tried to assume an interest in all her father had been doing; he, in his turn, asked if everybody was coming on Wednesday. "Very nearly. Aunt Lydia won't; she says she does not like meeting strangers." "Who does she call strangers?" "Mrs. Prescott and Mrs. Labouchere, I suppose. I cannot fancy why, but she always seems to speak slightingly of Sir. Stephen, as if she did not like him." Like him! Why, she doesn't know him. Oh! she's jealous, poor old body; she fears that he'll take the wind out of Leo's sails. Ah, it would need a pretty stiff breeze to do that, in his own opinion." "Don't say that, papa." After dinner old Mr. Jamieson and Captain Thomson dropped in, and finally Leo Despard appeared. "I expected that I should have seen you before this," Hero said in a low tone. "I waited in all the afternoon." "I am very sorry, but it was not my fault. I was obliged to go up to the Forts first. I found everything at sixes and sevens. During my absence nothing seems to have been attended to. I expect I shall have to spend a great deal more time there than I bargained for. It is an awful nuisance that none of those fellows can be trusted." This excuse was Leo's first step towards curtailing his visits to Sharrows; and so much had it cost him to keep away, that he felt quite aggrieved at being taken to task for his self-denial. Without either of them uttering a word which did not sound kind and cordial, each was sensible of a difference, and by mutual consent they studiously avoided their eyes meeting. Gradually, as Hero became silent, Leo, with the desire to seem perfectly at his ease, grew more than usually talkative; and in answer to the Captain's questions as to how he had enjoyed his visit, he gave an animated account of the whole party, how they had spent their time, and what the place was like. "I hear that the Combe people have arrived," he said, turning towards Hero. "What are the ladies like have you seen them?" "Seen them! I should think so," answered the Captain. "Sir Stephen's mother is a very nice woman-just like him- no nonsense about her; and as for his cousin She's all my fan-cy painted her, She's lovely, she-e-e's di-vi-ne. I say, Jamieson," he added, addressing his old shipmate, "do you remember, when we were at Cadiz, in the old Thetis ? Well, she puts me just in mind of that Spanish girl Tommy Holmes was so nuts "But Mrs. Labouchere is so fair, papa." Jamieson'll see what I mean- just built on the same lines." 66 The Captain gave a something between a grunt and a sigh; and then, fearing heupon.” had wounded his daughter, he said, "But, my dear, I don't know that I think worse "Yes, they're different there; but of the young fellow because he thinks well of himself. I never met a redcoat yet that I shouldn't have liked to buy at my price and sell at his own. It's a way they've got in the army." Then turning the conversation, he began telling Hero the different good points of two boats which he and Sir Stephen had seen, and between which their choice still halted. Tommy found out that the old don he took for her father was her husband," said Mr. Jamieson. "By jingo! so he did," exclaimed the Captain; "and strange to say, that this one married an old fellow with one leg in the grave then - and both now;" and a cigar, and that finding himself at the gate, he thought he would ask Betsey to send Joe Bunce up to him the next day; he laughed, heartily pleased at his joke, and the still further similarity between the two beauties. "Would you believe it, that woman's worth £10,000 a year the truth being that from the moment ten thousand a year,” he repeated. "Sir Stephen was telling me the whole thing this morning. The old man left her every penny he possessed, and two estates in the bargain." "Of course Sir Stephen intends sharing the benefit," Leo said, wanting to hear how the land lay there. "Not he - she has too much money for him. He says he is too poor to be dependent." dinner was over he had done nothing but make and break resolutions. | He would have been ashamed to acknowledge to himself how many times he had turned back from Sharrows gate, trying to keep to his purpose of not seeing Hero that evening. He petulantly said that he was behaving like some lover of eighteen, possessed by first mad passion which submits to everything but common sense and self-control, two things which "Quixotic creature!" and Leo laughed told Sir Stephen it was best and wisest derisively; "he has come to that con-not to seek another immediate interview. clusion very lately, then. Some men at Dunross knew them both, and they gave rather a different version of the story." "I don't know what you may have heard," said the Captain, “but I am sure that whatever Sir Stephen told me was the truth. I asked him if she was waiting for the Prince of Wales, and he said no-that she had refused several titles, and he didn't think she cared much for rank." "Ah! doubtless that was her reason for refusing the greatness he sought to thrust upon her." and Leo laughed more heartly still, as if all this bore upon some excellent joke which he possessed, but did not intend imparting. He continued to rattle on with an unusual appearance of high spirits, hoping to keep down the gnawing canker at his heart. With his anger rose his love, and though he determined to punish Hero for sitting silent and, as he thought, sullen, never had she seemed so dear to him; and in the midst of the stories he was repeating, and the jokes he was retailing, he found opportunity to assure himself that he could not give her up, and that it was of no use trying. But what was the strength of these elderly spinster virtues compared with the young giants, who made his eyes hunger, and his ears thirst, for a sound or a look from her, who suddenly seemed to have cast out every object in life, and to have taken sole and undisputed possession of him. He must go to her, he would ask for a further explanation — who was his rival, what were the circumstances of an engagement, which hope said was perhaps nothing but a form. He would tell her that, until he began to try and quench his love, he had never dreamed of the mastery it had gained over him; that with her his happiness must stand or fall; and then he would entreat her to be frank with him, and to tell him everything, and if aught but love of that other were the obstacle, nothing on earth should keep her from him. And these thoughts filling his heart, he walked swiftly on into her presence, and found himself face to face with Leo Despard. It needed but a glance at Hero to tell him who this new guest was; and, after that one look, he kept his gaze steadily averted from her, until he said good-bye; then the coldness of her hand irresistibly drew his eyes towards the poor little face, which, the hot colour having died away, looked like a faded flower, white and ashen. All this while Hero was wondering what had wrought this change in his manner, and while her attention was diverted from the general conversation, a footstep outside made her heart stand still, the blood rush to her face, and every sense seem obscured until she heard herself saying, "Mr. Leo Despard, Sir Ste-name somewhere before, but I cannot phen Prescott!" CHAPTER XIX. WIDELY OPPosed. SIR STEPHEN excused himself from staying beyond a few minutes at Sharrows by saying he had only strolled out to have "Leo Despard-Despard - Despard," and Sir Stephen repeated the name over and over to himself as he walked slowly and moodily along. "I have heard that think where," and he stopped, took his hat off, and stood straining his memory; but it would not serve him, until, when he had nearly reached home, and was thinking about something else, it suddenly flashed across him that it was the name of the late rector of Mallett. "He was called Despard, of course." He re membered now that, after his first visit, dierly young man, called Despard; and, his mother asked him whether he had remembering that when I returned from met any one of that name. Perhaps she | Mallett, you asked me if I had met any meant this young man, and, anxious to one so named, I considered you would hear something more of him, he turned probably know who he is. You could his loitering pace into a quick walk, and not have supposed I had seen an old soen reached home, where he ran up at man, who, you knew, had been dead for once to the drawing-room, hoping to find years; therefore, when you made the inhis mother; but Mrs. Prescott had al- quiry you had certainly some one in your ready retired, and he had to wait until mind." her maid had left her, then he knocked at the door, and asked if she would admit him. "Certainly; come in, my dear. I am only reading." Sir Stephen sat down opposite to her, and after a few indifferent sentences, he said "By the way, mother, you once asked me if I had seen any one called Despard here. Who did you mean?" The book in which Mrs. Prescott had been placing a mark fell out of her hand, and as she stooped down with unusual alacrity to pick it up, her son caught sight of her face. "What is the matter?" he asked. "Matter, my dear? "Yes, you looked as if something had given you pain." "Oh, my head; it often does when I stoop." "Then why do you stoop? I would have picked it up," and then he looked at her for an answer to the question he had asked, "Oh, yes, the Despards. Well, Mr. Despard was an old friend of your uncle's, and I gave him the living of Mallett." "I don't know, I know nothing of them, except that, because he was your uncle's friend I gave him the living. "But he has been dead for some years. He died when I was in Canada. I recollect it because I was so vexed to think that the living had not been given to Carr." "It was much better to give it to the man who has it," said Mrs. Prescott decidedly. "Well yes, according to your showing, it seemed, after he had done the duty with that prospect for so long, to be almost his right. Then who were these Despards you asked if I had met ?" "My dear Stephen, don't I tell you I know nothing of them? What makes you ask?" "Some one in my mind!" repeated Mrs. Prescott. "Really, Stephen, I think it rather hard for me to be questioned and taken to task as if I was a child. I tell you," she continued, speaking with unnecessary emphasis, "that I know nothing of these people. How should I, pray?" "I don't know; but surely, mother, there can be no possible reason why I, premising this young man to be the son of the late rector of Mallett, should not ask you if you can tell me whether such is the case. Really you appear to take it quite as an offence that you should be thought to know anything of the place, or the people." Sir Stephen was not in a pleasant humour, and was ready to take umbrage at a thing he would, at another time, have passed over as his mother's odd way of taking things. "Don't let us misunderstand each other, my dear," Mrs. Prescott said soothingly. "You know that I never intend to vex you." "Perhaps not; but you have done so since we came here," and, bent upon relieving his feelings, he added, Last evening I thought you anything but cordial to Miss Carthew, although I had told you how very kind they were to me." Mrs. Prescott hesitated; what should she do? Tell her son her suspicions? No; for if he meant nothing serious by his attentions she might be putting it into his head; so she said— In "Well, Stephen, to be candid with you, I was disappointed in Miss Carthew. the first place, I expected to have found her far prettier than she is; and secondly, I had pictured a simple, timid, artless girl- an ingenue in fact." "Well!" Why should she be ?" "Oh, I have nothing to say against her, only your taste was so utterly opposed to anything like hoydenism or fastness." |