ceiving my offering, but there was sadness, too. It pained him a little, just at first, that he should need one of his children to work for him instead of being able to supply all their wants and his own. It was but a momentary feeling, however, and when it had passed, his gratitude for what I had done for him was far greater than my easy service deserved.

During the long talk that followed between us that evening, he revealed to me more of his own dread of the calamity that was possibly coming upon him than he had ever yet permitted any one to know. I began then first to understand what a struggle for submission to the will of God he was living through; how he dreaded, and yet strove to prepare himself for the moment when all hope of escape would fail, and he should have to face the necessity of resigning himself to a life of darkness and inactivity. Every month's experience which forced him to resign one accustomed duty after another, convinced him, he said, that the dreaded time was drawing near. I could not persuade him to hope such great things as I did from Dr. Allison's skill, but I saw he was thankful for the rest of knowing, that no possible change of averting the threatened evil had been

cast away. Most thankful of all to have the wound in his heart healed which Charlie's indifference had caused; to be spared the temptation of ever thinking or saying in future dark hours, that he might have been saved if his children had loved him enough to divine in time the care he needed. The privilege accorded to me, then, of being allowed to bear a portion of my father's burden, was never withdrawn from me afterwards. I have always looked upon it as one of the most precious gifts of my life.

CHAPTER XV.

"I wept for memory,

She sang for hope that is so fair."

WITH SO energetic a person as Mr. Armstrong to share our counsels, there was no fear that we should be long in making arrangements for our respective journeys. He allowed me three days to prepare. On the fourth we all started together, as our road lay in the same direction till we reached the station, ten miles from Broadlands, where I was to leave the train.

On the evening before we left home, my conscience troubled me for not having made my father acquainted with the contents of Lady Helen's last letter. I compromised the matter with myself by throwing out a few hints in the course of a farewell conversation we had, which he might take or not as he pleased. He was extremely slow in taking them,

but when at length my meaning dawned upon him, he treated the whole matter so lightly, that I felt entirely excused from taking him further into my confidence.

"Some one in love with Nesta? What a ridiculous idea!" my father cried, rather angrily. "Why, she is a mere child! I have not had time to begin her education yet! She must not fancy that she is grown up. What does she say herself, the foolish child?"

"Dear papa, you must not be angry with Nesta. She does not say anything about it."

"Then pray take care that no one else does. I shall trust you, Janet. You have some sense. And, remember, I cannot have my little Nesta spoiled. Yes, it is as well you are going to Broadlands. I shall trust to you."

So the subject was dismissed for the time; but I fancy my father had some slight misgiving after his first angry incredulity had passed away.

In talking over the length of his absence with Mr. Armstrong and me, while we were together in the railway-carriage the next day, he seemed anxious to convince himself that it need not be so great as we had at first intended. The proposed six weeks

dwindled into three, and at last, when our parting drew near, he said, "Now, remember I trust you, Janet. A fortnight will decide my case. At the end of that time there is no reason why we should not all settle quietly at home again, just as we were. Remember, Janet, don't let me hear of any changes."

I had no time to make a promise which I certainly should not have been able to keep. The train stopped, and the next moment Charlie's and Nesta's faces appeared suddenly at the carriage-window.

They had driven over from Broadlands to the station to meet me, and to get a peep at my father on his way to Scotland. It was but a moment's greeting. Mr. Armstrong hurried me from the carriage, and made energetic efforts to secure my luggage. Then came the shrill whistle. He had to jump in again, and in a moment more they were whirled away, their farewells still sounding in my ears-my father's serious "God bless you, my best child!" and Mr. Armstrong's cheerful "Don't be anxious. I'll take care of him, Miss Janet."

We found Lady Helen waiting for us in her carriage outside the station. I think she was really pleased and relieved to see me; for if she had not been in a very good humour, she would hardly have