pected; "then you are not the first man, doctor, I can assure you, who has intended a great deal more than he could achieve. Do you imagine, because I am not quite knave enough for you, that I am quite fool enough to make myself accountable to you for what I choose to do?"

“Do you

"I intend to know that," repeated Rowel, doggedly. mean to blow to the world what has been made known to you in strict confidence as a professional man? Because, if that is your principle, I tell you beforehand, and to your face, that you are a disgrace to your profession, and a d-d dishonourable scoundrel to boot."

"Just hand me three and fourpence," remarked Skinwell, with the most provoking coolness, " for informing you, that by talking in that manner you are laying yourself open to a special action." "Do you mean to act the villain?" demanded Rowel, with increased passion.

"Three and fourpence, doctor," demanded Skinwell.

Ay! you're a mean cold-blooded scoundrel," continued the doctor, still more enraged.

Skinwell was somewhat aroused by this abuse, and replied in a more biting temper,

Why, if you really want to know whether I intend to blow you to the world, as you call it, I answer yes. I am resolved to expose your villainy, and compel you to do justice in spite of yourself."

"Oh, very well!" cried the doctor, rising from his seat, and striding towards the door, "that is enough-say no more-that is all I want. Now I know my man. But I'll tell you what," and he turned half round in the doorway, and looked at his antagonist with the fierce malignity of a demon, "if physic can't beat law to the dogs at last, I'll grant you free grace to drain me to my last penny." So saying, he hurried out of the house.

The words which the lawyer had uttered seemed, like an echo a hundred times repeated, to ring in Rowel's ears as a sound that would never die away. He hurried along the village street more by instinct than present knowledge, in the direction of the lawyer's house. On reaching it, he knocked at the door, which was opened by Fanny.

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Young woman," said he, " you remember what I told you when I first saw you at Whinmoor? You have not mentioned a word to any one? Then take care not to do so on any account. You are in danger. If Skinwell asks you anything, do not utter a word, or the design I had in view for you is ruined. If he tells you anything, do not believe him ; no matter what it is, tell him you do not believe it. He is a scoundrel, an unmitigated villain, and if you stay longer in this house you will be ruined. Trust none of his promises. He may pretend that he wants to marry you, but do not believe him; and if he says he knows something about you and your family, take no notice of it; for it will be done merely to get from you what I have told you to do. He may perhaps even go so far as to say he knows where your father is-”

My father!" exclaimed Fanny. Why, who knows my father?

"I say he may say so," replied Rowel," for he will say anything; but you must not believe him. The truth is, he has found out that

can.

I am doing something for you, and he is determined to stop it if he But do not let him talk to you. You must leave this house as early as possible. Be cautious, above all things. I will soon see you again."

And the doctor walked away.

What, under heaven," exclaimed Fanny, as she closed the door. after him," can the man mean? I am in danger,-and master wants to marry me, and knows where my father is, and I must leave here directly! What in the world am I to do? for there seems no end to trouble!"

And then, according to the regular female rule in cases of difficulty of this kind, she sat down and began to cry; and as she cried, she called to mind that Mr. Skinwell had, more particularly of late, showed himself unusually kind to her, and more so, indeed, than she ought to suffer.

Shortly afterwards Skinwell walked in. He had met Dr. Rowel in a part of the road which warranted some suspicion that the latter might have been up to his house, and accordingly he proceeded to question Fanny on the subject. After an awkward attempt or two to evade his inquiries, she at length declared, that he came only upon some business which related merely to herself, and therefore she could not explain it.

"There is no occasion," replied he, "to explain it to me. I know it well enough. That man is a scoundrel, Fanny,times ten multiplied than anybody would imagine."

worse by ten "The very thing," thought she, " that the doctor said of you." "Since so much has come out as this," continued Skinwell," and my plan is about ripe, I do not hesitate to say that that man has been the ruin of you and your family; and, but for him, you yourself would at this very time have been-there is no knowing-anything but what you are. Depend upon it, my dear, many a better man than Dr. Rowel has died in a hempen neck cloth."

The girl paid little regard to all this, for it was precisely the same as her friend the doctor had declared he would say; and yet she felt doubtful which of the two to believe, or were they not

alike dishonest?

Skinwell's profession had not left him so heedless an observer of human nature, as not to remark that, instead of his disclosures, as he conceived them to be, being received with astonishment and wonder, Fanny took comparatively little notice of them. However, he per

severed,

"As you and the doctor are so intimate, then," continued he, "of course he has told you something of your own history. Has he ever told you you have a father living?"

Fanny stood mute.

"He never told you that?" the lawyer repeated.

"Oh no!" exclaimed Fanny; "but if I truly have a father, do tell me where he is, and I will do anything in the world for you!" Now was the lawyer's time to make his proposals, which he did at some length, promising that, in case they were agreed to, he would tell her where her father was, he would liberate him from a dungeon worse than any prison, and recover for him and herself the property that was now unjustly withheld from them.

Fanny hung her head and blushed, and felt as though she could

laugh or cry, or do both perhaps together; but she could not speak.

Well," continued Skinwell, "I know what you think,—it is natural enough. I admit that I am a little older than I was twenty years ago, and probably not quite so eyeable to look upon as when I paid more attention to personal appearances; but the time was when I had my day as well as others, and, in fact, was considered one of the best in Bramleigh."

Since it is not what a man has been, but what he is, that maids are apt in these cases to consider, we need not feel surprised that the lawyer's recommendation of himself failed to be considered a recommendation by her to whom it was addressed; and, though the temptation offered was great enough, she calmly, yet firmly rejected any idea of agreeing to the terms proposed. Her refusal aroused the lawyer's indignation, and, for the time, converted the only man who could prove eminently useful to her as a friend into a bitter enemy. He vowed that her father's bones should rot on the floor where he lay, before he would open his lips to assist him; and, declaring that Fanny would live to repent her determination, he left the room.

CHAPTER III.

Colin takes steps to extricate Fanny from her difficulties; but is interrupted by a fearful occurrence which threatens to make Doctor Rowel triumphant.

HAVING in some degree recovered from the terror inspired by Skinwell's denunciation, Fanny occupied herself in calling together all the fragments of information of which she had thus strangely been put in possession, and in endeavouring so to fit the broken pieces together as to make something like an intelligible whole. In this attempt she necessarily failed. The whole matter was a maze, a mystery, a jargon of seeming truth and certain falsehood,- of things partly consistent and partly contradictory. In this state of uncertainty she determined to consult Colin upon the steps most advisable to be taken; for though he was now only about eighteen in actual years, yet his early mental developement and his plain manly honesty entitled him to be considered upon an equality with many who were several years his seniors. A note was accordingly despatched by the first convenient carriage to Whinmoor, requesting Colin to pay a visit to Bramleigh at the earliest possible opportunity.

Such an opportunity very fortunately occurred within the ensuing week, and on a day which, by a lucky coincidence, Mr. Skinwell himself had chosen for a drive, on business, to the city of York. Ample opportunity was thus afforded the young people to discuss the subject of their meeting at its full length, and in perfect

secresy.

Troubled as Fanny had been in her own mind to devise what course to pursue under the seemingly difficult circumstances in which she was placed, she had no sooner related them to Colin, than that youth declared that the steps proper to be taken were as clearly chalked out as the track of a plough along the fields.

"Leave it to me," said he, " and I will find it all out very soon. In the first place, I shall ask my mother whether she ever knew

anything of your father; for it is plain that she must know something of the place you came from. If that does not answer, I should then ask Mr. Skinwell and Dr. Rowel. The truth is all that would be required of them, and surely people cannot very well refuse to tell the truth in such a case as this. But let us try my mother first. Shall I go down to her now?"

To this proposition Fanny assented; and, while she remained behind in a state of anxious hope and expectation, Colin went onwards to Mrs. Clink's, for the purpose of obtaining the required inform

ation.

A dreary pause of an hour or more, which to Fanny's imagination appeared half a day, followed Colin's departure. "Now," thought she, after a little interval of time," he has arrived there; now he is talking about it to his mother; and now, perhaps, she is telling him what she would never tell me, though I often asked her ever so particularly about it." And then, again, as time wore away, and one five minutes after another were scored on the side of that great eternity the Past, she thought he must be coming back; she mistook the footsteps of every passer-by for his, and every distant external sound as the wished-for herald of his approach. At length, as she began to grow heart-sick with anxiety, he came.

"Has she told you anything?" asked Fanny the moment she saw him.

"Not much," he replied, " and that of no great consequence." Ay, I feared it would be so! Then what is it, Colin?" "She knows nothing whatever of your father, that is certain. She never did know him, nor your mother either."

Fanny sighed, and then asked timidly,

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Did she say anything about me, then?"

Why, yes, she did; though it is not of very pleasant hearing; and besides, it is not of any consequence, particularly

"

"But do tell me, you must tell ine!" exclaimed Fanny.

not care what it is; it cannot hurt me now."

"Well, then," returned Colin, "the truth is this '

"I do

Fanny sat down in a chair; and as she gazed intently on Colin's features while she spoke, her bosom heaved and fell as though some sentence of punishment was being passed upon her.

My mother," continued the youth, "has told me that she first had you when you were three or four years old, as near as she could guess. At that time she lived in a little yard near Park-lane in Leeds, with her sister, who died shortly afterwards. One dark night in the autumn, and almost about bed-time, she and her sister heard a stirring and talking amongst the neighbours in the yard, and the crying of a little child. They went out to see what was the matter, and found some women with candles in their hands round a little girl that was lost; this child was you, Fanny. Though, how you had been lost, or how you came there, they could not tell. My mother says she asked you if you knew who brought you there, and you said something that they thought meant uncle brought me ;' but they could not be certain about it; they made out, however, that your name was Fanny Woodruff, as Is you had been taught to speak that much plainer than anything else. As all the poor people in the yard had families of their own, except my mother and her sister, they took you in for that night; or, as they

thought, until somebody should own you. Next morning the circumstance was made known in all the ways they could think of or afford to pay for; but day after day passed on, and week after week, and they were none the forwarder for their trouble, until at last it died away, and became certain, as proved to be the case, that she would have to keep you always. Some people, Fanny, wanted to persuade her to take you to the workhouse."-Fanny burst into tears." But my mother had got used to you by that time, and would not do it. Besides, her sister died, and she wished her on her death-bed to keep you; for, perhaps, Anne,' said she to my mother, you may find it all out in the end.' My mother," added Colin," says she believes that dying people very often speak like prophets. She resolved, therefore, to keep you from that time to this." "And yet,” added Fanny in a mingled feeling of jest and earnest "there seems to be small chance of the prophecy coming true."

Before Colin could reply, a noise without was heard of the tread of numerous feet, mingled with the sound of carriage wheels as they slowly advanced down the road, cracking and crushing the dry gravel. Then came a hurried rap at the door. Fanny flew to it, but it was already opened. A little crowd had gathered outside and every face looked solemn and anxious. Some peeped down the passage, and others at the contents of a gig which had stopped before the house. She looked out. The shafts were snapped asunder; the harness broken; the horse, led by a farming man, was covered with foam and dust and mud. He bled at the mouth, and looked fierce and angry, though subdued. In the gig itself lay the body of her master the lawyer, insensible, and supported on the knee of a second farming man. Fanny ran into the house again, terrified at the sight, and summoned Colin, the lawyer's clerk, and an under servant girl, to his assistance. Shortly afterwards the body was carefully lifted out and carried up stairs. Before this, a man had been despatched to obtain the speedy assistance of the proprietor of the lunatic asylum at Nabbfield.

What an opportunity for Dr. Rowel was presented here to stifle Fanny's evidence for ever!

CHAPTER IV.

Relates the triumph of the Doctor, and the manner in which he achieved it. Lawyer Skinwell's death-bed, and what happened there.

THE evening was warm and fine; and the gentle slope, on the top of which Dr. Rowel's establishment stood, was coloured with the setting light of the sun; as, with the glass-doors, which opened from his drawing-room upon the lawn, thrown wide back to admit the scarcely stirring air, the doctor himself sat near it and alone, in an attitude of thought, meditating mischief. A dash of vermilioncoloured light shot athwart the lower part of his person, while the upper portion was covered with that kind of illuminated shadow, that clear obscure, which, to the delicate perception of a painter, constitutes one of Nature's greatest beauties. But the thoughts and reflections in which the doctor indulged were deeply at variance with those which the scene before him, and the character of the hour, were calculated to suggest. It was not with him-" how