giving up his present post at Chiltern, and going to Scotland for three or four years, he would make himself more worthy of her, but still he would be breaking off all connection with his idol, and how would he ever be able to renew it? He was perplexed beyond measure. He had an insatiable craving for knowledge which must be satisfied; he felt like one standing on the borders of a new world full of mystery and beauty, every step he took brought him new delights, and tempted him to go on further, and gather more of the fruits of wisdom and knowledge-fruits that were sweet to the taste, but that created a craving appetite that ever cried for more. He felt that, though the world would be an empty place to him without the fair smiling Violet, yet there would still be something left worth living for. There would still be the world of science, with all its wonders, to be explored.

Then Stephen thought of the Rector, whose kindness he felt to be almost the greatest obstacle in his path; and he was afraid that it would be mean and dishonourable to leave Chiltern after all the consideration that had been shown him; but in the meantime his duty was clear, to work as hard as possible, to do his very best for his pupils, and learn all he could himself.

But the Rector's quick sense soon discovered that there was something on the schoolmaster's mind; in his leisure moments he was absent and absorbed, and there was a restlessness about him that was new.

Stephen was starting off one summer evening to give his lessons at Bareton, and as he passed the Rectory gate he was joined by Mr Champneys.

P

"Off to your pupils at Bareton, I suppose," said he kindly, linking Stephen by the arm. "I think a walk would do me good, for I am getting old and stiff, so I will go part of the way with you."

At first they talked of some new book just come out that the Rector had lent to Stephen, then gradually the good man led the conversation to more personal topics, for he was anxious to find out what was troubling his young friend. At last he said—

“Well, Rivers, there is no use in beating about the bush, I am sure you can trust me enough to give me a true answer to a straightforward question. There is something on your mind-what is it? Tell me as your friend, unless indeed it is some one else's secret."

Stephen was quite taken aback by this sudden question. He was so unconscious of having betrayed anything by his manner, and indeed had so striven to hide his unsettled state of mind by extra attention to his duties, that he could not divine how the Rector had discovered any change in him; but it was part of the priest's business to read the hearts of men.

"There is no secret to tell," answered Stephen, “and indeed, Sir, I have nothing on my mind."

"I do not mean to imply that you have any crime on your mind," replied the clergyman, smiling, "but that some question of importance, some difficulty, is troubling you, I am sure. I cannot force your confidence, but if you care to consult me, I might be able to help you to decide."

Stephen looked at his friend in wonder. he able so to read him like a book?

How was

"Well, Sir, you have always been such a friend to me

that I will tell you everything-and yet it is very little to tell after all, but the fact is, that when I was last in London I heard something about Scotch bursaries," -here he hesitated.

"Yes, yes," replied the Rector, "I see, I thought it was something of that sort. A fellow like you naturally longs for a university training; and you think that you might win a bursary, I see?"

"Yes, Sir," answered Stephen, feeling like a boy at school.

"Well, and why not try?"

"There are several reasons," said Stephen hesitatingly. "You have been so good to me that I could not act dishonourably to you, Sir, and then, even though I did try, I might not succeed."

"Of course not, but you would stand a very good chance; and as for the Chiltern schools, well," here the Rector made a very long pause, and gazed into vacancy, then he said "Well, well, I will be honest with you as you have been with me; I have grown used to you, and I like you, and I should certainly miss you very much in every way, but I will not be so selfish as to keep you here; no, my boy, go out into the world and try your wings, here you feel like a lark in a cage, I know it well."

"I cannot bear to leave you, Sir," replied Stephen with a husky voice. "And then the schools-I am getting fond of my work, and some of the boys are really making a start at last."

"Yes; it does seem a pity for the boys," said the Rector slowly; "but you want to try to improve yourself, and I am not going to stand in your way. Go,

and remember that you always have a friend in the old Rector, and if, when you leave college, you choose to return to your post, I see no reason why you should not do so. In the meantime I must look out for a less ambitious teacher to take your place. And now, how are you going to proceed? let us plan the campaign.”

Then Stephen told all he knew about the Scotch Bursaries, and the Rector advised him what subjects to work up, and what books to use, and it was a settled thing that Stephen was to try his luck at the next election of Bursars at Edinburgh.

CHAPTER X.

A VILLAGE ORATOR.

GREAT was the consternation in Chiltern when it became known that the schoolmaster was going to leave. For all his quiet proud ways, as they were called, Stephen had gained a high place in the esteem of the villagers, who now began to discover all sorts of hitherto unimagined virtues in him; indeed there was quite as much resentment shewn at his retirement as there had been at his appointment.

Stephen had wished to keep the thing a secret, but both Mrs Melville and the Rector decreed otherwise; it had always been their rule, as far as possible, to take the villagers into their confidence, to create a family feeling, as Mrs Melville said, and they could not take a step that so nearly affected the whole place without giving the parents due notice that their children's education was again to be entrusted to a stranger.

When the good people found that Mr Rivers really was going, and not under a cloud of disgrace, but with the friendship and approbation of the Rector and "the Ladies," it entered Poole the blacksmith's head that it would only shew a proper public spirit on the part of the inhabitants of Chiltern to present the schoolmaster with a testimonial, before his departure.