really good men, but who had been beat by the pace, and who had pumped their horses now in catching hounds to no purpose. They brought a rumor of a farmer with a dead four-year-old, and an officer with a collar-bone out. As Porter turned up all right at dinner, it was n't he. Then Lord Rosendale heard a hallo on the hill to his left, and away he went to ascertain its correctness. The master and Charles seconded his efforts by the only assistance that had been wanted for the hounds during the run; and after another quarter of an hour, the last five minutes of which was a race, the fox was pulled down within a field of his point, the great woods at Rosendale.

When Jack Bulstrode came down to dinner he heard the run being discussed in all parts of the room by the men, and his own name honorably connected with it. Everybody was glad to see Jack Bulstrode, and Lord and Lady Rosendale gave him a hearty welcome.

And what did you do afterwards?" said Jack to Sir George Sherringhame.

"Nothing at all. We waited for our second horses, which came up with the ruck in about a quarter of an hour, and never got out of Rosendale Wood; we galloped our hearts out, and killed below the osier-bed. What became of you?"

"I had no second horse out; so I came quietly home." Jack Bulstrode did not add that he had been playing billiards with Lady Evelyn, while they were galloping their hearts out in another direction. In decent society, where precedence goes for something, of course the captain of cavalry went in to dinner with the nobodies; and as Lady Evelyn was not yet out, and only preparing for her presentation in the spring, by a sort of Christmas laxity of discipline she fell to the lot of Jack Bulstrode. I do not think this arrangement gave either of them any

great concern.

There is a cat-like affection for locality in the human species. In consideration of which peculiarity Jack, I suppose, retained his seat at breakfast and Enner (unless accident assigned him occasionally a fat, country woman in a turban, or the scraggy daughter of some political adherent of the Rosendale party), which was always in the vicinity of his schoolmom favorite. It was a most cheerful gathering; the Duchesse de la Porte St. Martin condescended to patronize Jack, and the Duc made a point of followng him as near as he could, until a bullfinch thicker than usual, or a more formidable "bit of water" sent Em, as he expressed it, "round by de gate." There as plenty of music and dancing to get through the venings, and Jack's talents as a whist-player were in constant requisition. As to Lady Evelyn's sketchbook, it contained a likeness of herself and her sister at Timberfield, the Earl on his favorite horse Springgan, charging a post and rails, and a gentlein in attendance, not unlike Jack himself, with a w modestly obliterative scratches over the face, in dose attendance.

Open weather within a fortnight of Christmas is ceptional, and at last certain prognostications of Amiral Fitzroy and one Moore began to be fuld. The air, as they returned after a rattling alop in a scent breast high, became crisp, and the ad in the roads was positively streaky; and in a day or two, when Jack's servant brought in his th, he informed his master that Mr. Segundo wished to know whether he should send on his

Send on, of course he must! Why not?"

"Please, sir, he says there won't be no hunting until twelve or one o'clock, if there is then. It don't seem to give at all." So Jack Bulstrode took another turn in bed, and dressed himself an hour later in a full suit of Scotch Tweed.

And it did not give anything but intense dissatisfaction, either that day or the next, or for several days following. There was nothing to be done for it but indoor amusements, varied with the shooting of outlying covers for the gentlemen, and skating on the lake for both sexes. It was a hard time for Jack Bulstrode; and like a prudent man, he tried to run away from the danger. But he could not be spared. My lady wanted him for tableaux on Christmas eve, and my lord was particularly anxious that he should stay till the shooting of the big wood; it was expected to be very good, and the gunning ample and excellent. So that running away was out of the question. He really had as much principle as most men of his class, and a certain latitude is given to lovers and warriors not accorded to other men. Why, again, had they put him into the West Gallery, where he almost invariably met Lady Evelyn coming down to breakfast, or going up to visit Miss Nettleship? "Her dear Nettle!" as she called her; out of which she certainly was not plucking the flower safety. Amongst other things her unbroken ladyship managed to tumble through the ice, and get very nearly drowned. Jack was there as usual, and managed to save her; he did n't say with how much difficulty. They neither of them said anything about it, though it was certainly known to our dear Nettle and her ladyship's maid. They were both afraid lest she should be forbidden the lake, excepting under a full escort, and Nettle dreaded a wigging for her inattention. Terribly compromising all this to an earl's daughter, and a dangerous pastime to Jack Bulstrode, who was not given to falling in love, but did most things with singular earnestness when he set about them. Upon my word, it is conduct which you might have expected from an agricultural parson's daughter and her cousin Tom home from Trinity for his Christmas vacation. I fear the tableau was a clincher; for of all extraordinary things to insist upon, Lady Rosendale first of all enhanced Lady Evelyn's beauty by turning her into Mary, Queen of Scots, and then finished off any lingering resolutions of Jack Bulstrode, by putting him at her feet as David Rizzio.

And they went to church together on Christmas day. The sun was bright, and sparkled on the glittering icicles by the roadside, the trees, laden with their winter fruits, crackled as the snowwreaths fell before its power. There was a sympathetic happiness in the very atmosphere; and Nature had clothed herself in the white robes of peace and good-will, to greet the most joyful, the most love-inspiring of our festivals. How glorious is the triumphant song of the cathedral choir, with the pealing notes of the sustaining organ on that morning, raising and cheering faltering humanity, and giving to religion its happiest and most genial form. All this, or something like it, Jack Bulstrode and Lady Evelyn Caradoc were compelled to go through together, standing side by side with the rest of the church-goers from the Earl's guests. There is a transcendant happiness in praying and in praising by the side of her you love, though it be in a square, well-carpeted little room, with a wellappointed fireplace, and secluded from vulgar gaze by scarlet curtains; whether Jack Bulstrode felt it

or not, or whether you yourself have done so, my patient reader, I know not; if you have not, you have a foretaste of heaven to come, which is worth much gold and silver and precious stones; or, losing which, your life here seems to me to be one of but an imperfect shadow of good things to come.

But the frost would not go; the tableaux and the dancing, the good living and good company, kept them all warm at Rosendale Castle; but it did not thaw the ground, or bring out the hounds to draw the covers of the county. So when the covers had been shot, and the papers had abused the good old Earl for having killed two thousand head of game in one week, on some of which the editors' wives and children, besides the tenants and friends of the estate, were fattening, the party began to break up in earnest. Among them Jack Bulstrode discovered another engagement. The last dinner was positively eaten, the last song was sung, the last rubber was played; and it was an undeniable fact that the Earl's brougham would take Jack and his friend George Sherringhame to the railway-station in the morning, unless it rained cats and dogs in the night. How Jack swore at the frost in his sleep!—and yet it seemed to him that he ought to go. "What's a poor devil with about a thousand a year in a cavalry regiment to do with such a girl as Evelyn Caradoc?" Then he laughed aloud, savagely, as he flourished his razor, at the absurdity of the thing. "Ah! if a fellow had a chance now, a field-marshal's bâton! Such things have been done. India's the country. I'll exchange; hang this hunting and nonsense. Yes; and come back to find her married to some gambling young beggar like Georgy Sherringhame, who won't understand her, only because he's a baronet with twenty thousand a year." Thinking which he discarded all thought of India; and giving a kick to a half-packed portmanteau which stood in his way, proceeded to finish his toilette.

On the way down stairs, as he approached a landing-place, common to that wing of the house, and branching off into a double staircase, which led by two routes circuitously to the same place, Jack Bulstrode stopped a moment, and listened. Yes; true enough, there was the rustle of a silk dress coming along the passage, whose well-carpeted flooring gave no echo to the foot. In another moment Lady Evelyn stood before him. Poor Jack! many a man has stood before temptation for a long time; but it is the last straw which breaks the camel's back. This was his last straw.

Lady Evelyn, I'm going. I am so glad to be able to say good by to you."

"Glad, Captain Bulstrode ?" Lady Evelyn's smile was no more felicitous than his expression; and she did not look at him. The long almond eyes were cast down, and the long dark lashes swept her cheek, never full of color, but now paler than usual. Jack looked, and thought he had never seen anything so lovely before. Her small, well-shaped nose and long nostril, her short upper lip and rounded mouth and chin, and the budding dimples of childhood, which had not yet given way to the smoother charms of womanhood, broke down his strong resolve, and he stammered out, "Gladglad? O no! if you only knew how sorry I am,how I have struggled; but, Evelyn," and, as he spoke, he took her passive hand in his, and looked into her face. The long soft eyes looked up; they were full of tears; and as he drew her nearer to him, and kissed her forehead, one, only one large drop descended and fell from her lashes to her cheek.

--

I suppose nobody can imagine what followed! Jack Bulstrode went away, and made no sign; and the Lady Evelyn returned to her own place with Nettleship, till the spring; but they all agreed, the little French Duc and his English Duchesse, even Lady Margaret, who was as stupidly proper as everybody ought to be, that there never had been so happy a Christmas, notwithstanding the frost, at Rosendale before. The Earl grew reconciled to it, and Lord Glendower abused nothing but the weather. It was near the end of June. Lord Thistledowne lounged over the rails at one P. M. in Rotten Row. At that moment he was thinking whether he should offer himself and his estates to the new beauty of the season. Of acceptance he had not much doubt. Had he not a large rent-roll, unencumbered? was he not heir to a dukedom, and M. P. for ——shire? and had he not met with the most flattering encouragement from Lady Rosendale and the Earl? He was wondering whether it would be necessary to refurnish the house in Belgravia, and whether he had n't better wait one more winter; Lady Evelyn was so very young!

The bearer of good news is proverbially welcome; and Charlie Raikes, of the Foreign Office, a large contributor to the miscellaneous column of the Hyde Park Bugbear, was always "well posted" in the fashionable "on dits" of the day.

"Here's a go," said that young gentleman, full of the vulgarest animal spirits, and slapping Thistledowne on the back, "here's a go. They say old Rosendale 's doocedly cut up. Jack Bulstrode has run away with Lady Evelyn Caradoc." Lord Thistledowne became green with emotion. “They wanted to marry her to some infernal swell, - some fellow like you, I should think, and she would n't have it, kicked over the traces, you know, and so forth; and, by Jove, they're off; ran away from Mrs. Mashtub's ball last night, and were married this morning; penitential letter of course, and so forth. But there's a deuce of a shine, I can tell Glendower's furious."

you.

"Jack Bulstrode ?" said Thistledowne, gloomily; not quite able to realize the situation, but recovering himself by slow degrees.

"Yes; Jack was there last Christmas. They say he wrote to the Earl, but the Earl would n't have it at any price; of course he would n't. They thought it was all over; but it was n't."

"And what's to be done now?" inquired the other, recovering his tone.

"Bleed old Rosendale, I should think, — he 's in a state of collapse, and then provide for Jack with a good staff appointment: or make a swell of him somehow. That's what I should do, if I was the Earl."

There's more sense in Charlie Raikes's last remark than might have been expected: however, they did neither.

They did not bleed Lord Rosendale, for he did not stand in need of it; nor did they yet provide handsomely for Jack and his runaway beauty.

Lord Rosendale's characteristic was family pride. It was not enough that Jack Bulstrode was a gentleman; he was a gentleman of no position, and could only detract from the family dignity. The blow was a very severe one to him. He was invisible for some days, and the family left town immediately. He had been applied to by Jack to be allowed to address his daughter: then had followed a letter as cold, as civil, as decisive as the occasion required: and the affair had been dismissed

Jan. 20, 1866.

end of it.

Everybody abused Jack, excepting his army friends, who thought it a noble precedent. It was wrong certainly, but Jack had lived in society where so little obloquy attached to stealing a neighbor's wife, that he did not think much of his neighbor's daughter. Besides, what could it signify? Lady Evelyn loved bread and cheese, and a pony phaeton of her own, and looking after the butcher's bills, and counting the things for the laundress; and above all, she dearly loved Jack himself, so what could it signify to anybody?

But there were moments when they felt that they had done wrong. Jack wished to see his wife in the society from which he had taken her, and surrounded by luxuries, as well as comforts. Lady Evelyn longed for a father's forgiveness and a mother's blessing; and although she took care never to let her husband see the effects of her regrets, she could not help mingling a tear sometimes with her caresses, which told him the truth. Every letter had been returned. Every attempt at reconciliation had been stamped out. They heard from friends (everybody has some friends) that their names were forbidden in the presence of the Earl. "Mamma, dear, will forgive us some day, but I am afraid of papa. I wonder whether Frank ever thinks about us in India?"

Frank did think about his favorite sister, and his beau ideal of a hero, many a time, in the guard-room, or on outpost duty; and now that his leave had come was hurrying home to take a share in their proceedings.

So time went on. Jack Bulstrode and his wife lived in a pretty cottage, which he had furnished extravagantly, and which he allowed to be deficient in no luxury whatever. He kept two or three horses, and a pony phaeton for Lady Evelyn; and he made her as happy as the day was long. They went out, and they received; but the luxuries of the respectable squirearchy and ecclesiastics, who formed their visiting circle, were not the elegancies of Rosendale Castle or the houses of which they had the entrée before. Jack felt he was tabooed by all who would stand well with the Rosendales: and a married man with but a thousand a year must confine his visits at great houses within very moderate limits.

And now Christmas was coming again; as before, it was a bright, cheerful-looking Christmas, and Jack's horses were once more eating their heads off, and it was a more serious business than before. Then, too, Christmas has, for the poor and needy of high society, a very black and dingy side. Those awful bills! He had never felt uncomfortable about them as a bachelor; and no sooner was he married than people positively expected to be paid. The more economical he pretended to be the more

But his wife-that was the trouble. As the anniversary of her great happiness came round, she began to look ill, and worn, if not unhappy. And she had another natural cause for anxiety, and so had he. "Jack, dear, let us try once more. Write to mamma. She liked you, and she never was unkind. Don't let Christmas go over. I think even papa would scarcely like that. He always came to my room with a little present on Christmas day. I wonder who 'll sleep in our rooms this time?" and then she began to cry. To comfort her he promised to try once more; so this time he wrote to My Lady.

And then came an answer. It was kinder and more conciliatory. The Earl was still implacable; but the Duchesse was there, and Jack knew he had a friend at court. And then there came a box,a large box; it contained handsome presents for Evelyn, Christmas presents, and some curious little articles which no one at present in the cottage could well make use of. They might be useful in three or four months' time. And then there was a good-natured letter from the Duchesse, and some kind messages from Lady Margaret. But it was silent about the Earl, and Glendower was out of the question altogether.

But Christmas kept advancing, and they were no nearer the happy meeting than heretofore.

Jack and his wife were at luncheon about three days before the festival which ought to bring together all hearts, when a carriage from the railway drove up to the cottage, and a handsome young fellow stepped out and made his way through the garden. Frank Caradoc had returned, and having announced to his mother his resolution of going to see his sister, the feeble opposition which was offered to his wishes was easily broken down. He had mentioned their names before his father, and, for the first time, they had been listened to without an outbreak. So Frank Caradoc started on his mission, and one of the family had at last made his way to the forbidden home.

Years had passed since they had met. The boy had become a tried and stalwart soldier. There was the same light heart, the same open hand; but they had been tempered by trial and checked by experience.

Evelyn, you'll come with me?"

"And leave my husband? Never, Frank. His people shall be my people. We go together to Rosendale, or not at all."

"Then you will both come?"

"Have you come here, Frank," said Jack Bulstrode, "with an invitation from your father? I can be an unwelcome guest in no man's house."

66

No, Jack, I know that well enough; but you must sacrifice something to an old man's pride." "I have mine."

"Yes; but no man has trampled upon it, or you would be the first to resent it. Come, Jack, you owe my father something. Let the first Christmas I have passed among them for some years be a happy one. Don't let us have to say that we threw away a chance. Christmas comes but once a year."

Jack knew he had done wrong, and conscience makes cowards of us all. Then he looked at Lady Evelyn's face, and remembered the first tear he had seen upon it. It was not quite a year ago. They flowed now fast enough, and some bitterness was