'I fear not of the least, aunt! But I will try, if you wish it. I don't like that secret, aunt.'

'Nor do I. Nor I fancy does your uncle, though he says nothing. Yet I cannot imagine what possible object the mother can have, unless it be to get this money; and this it cannot be, because Grace's carrying the purse was the purest accident yesterday?'

'Indeed it was. Roger was to have carried it, and I had charge of it. I ought to have put it away perhaps. I wish I had.' 'But you expected Roger to fetch it?'

'Yes I did, and I was busy with mamma.'

‘But Isabel, what made you suspect that secret ?'

'Grace's manner.

first about the purse.'

She was in an agony of distress at

'But this shows the loss to have been unintentional.' 'Yes; and so I most fully believe it to have been. But the moment I began to question her, she guiltily avoided all mention of the shrubbery walk or the mother; and the more I asked the more impenetrable she became. And yet she would not tell me a direct falsehood, when I asked point blank if a secret did exist. Aunt Walpole, I never have caught her in the smallest untruth,' said poor Isabel, beseechingly. 'No, I believe not; she would not condescend to it; she is not a girl to lie. But-bother her! I can't help it,

6

Isabel,' cried aunt Walpole. Then the woman.'

'Answered in the wildest manner-wide of the mark

at first—then refused to satisfy me about the purse, on the plea that I would not believe her if she told the truth. She undoubtedly has it!'

'And means to keep it,' observed her aunt.

'And then at last,' continued Isabel, 'threatened all I told you, if I set the Justices on her, as she called it; and at last begged earnestly for time. This is what I think most of.

M

'Doubtless the mother is aiming at something, but whether anything to signify I cannot tell. With herself fled, and Grace 'under care,' I should think no great harm can happen. She always hung about the cliffs behind here, and has seemed fascinated by the place; but she cannot possibly harm us, especially with only Grace for her coadjutor, that I can see. I think we may, indeed we must, wait patiently. But I am very sorry for your father. If you should discover anything, Isabel, of course I need not say, come to us at once and if you should find speaking to Grace possible, I would try it—I scarcely think it is—but I am sure she likes sympathy if she can get it, unsought and unaccepted as it were!'

"But what an "if!" aunt Walpole; you see I neither sleep with her, nor meet her naturally-I must make an opportunity.' 'Yes yes, I know!' and Mrs Walpole departed.

Isabel returned to her mother's room, glad of its rest, and of the blissful ignorance of its occupant. Until the purse was found or lost beyond recovery, Mrs M'Ivor was not to be told; so the tranquil atmosphere of that pretty room could be enjoyed with no fretting, jarring remarks, to disturb its serenity; and thoroughly restful Isabel found it.

Poor little Grace! what a pity it was that she had exiled herself from it and all other soothing influences. She was 'under nurse's care,' and so to remain until all was explained. Two or three times, notwithstanding her hopelessness, Isabel sought the nursery, and dismissed nurse on some pretext, and sat on, playing with baby, and trying to attract her sister. It was of no avail! Grace would have given anything, but given up her temper, to speak. And poor Isabel returned to her mother again and again, more sad and out of heart each time: and so these two girls, though so strongly attracted to each other, were held asunder by as perverse an imp of mischief as ever meddled in human affairs, and muddled them.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHIVALRIC BILL.

'Young knight whatever, that dost armes professe,
And through long labours huntest after fame,
Beware of fraud, beware of ficklenesse,

In choice, and chaunge, of thy deare-loved dame;
Least thou of her believe too lightly blame,
And rash misweening doe thy hart remove :
For unto knight there is no greater shame,
Than lightnesse and inconstancie in love.

*

*

*

Fairy Queen.

UT another member of the family was by no means disposed to take matters so patiently. Billy had been in the breakfast-room all the time. He had lingered to catch a sleepy fly in the window pane, instead of running after his companions, and Billy had heard all, and Billy was astonished · and furious by turns.

The idea of Isabel being blamed by all those big strangers, who could know no more of her than the man in the moon, who could not guess how good she was the idea of her being punished; for he supposed 'under surveillance,' and 'incarcerated' meant that, though what they really did mean, he did not know-and obliged to pay that large sum. He had heard too, a whisper last

night, though from whom and when he could not remember, that Isabel and Grace had warned off mother O'Neill— well, supposing they had, what then-he had been nearly as bad (as bad as Isabel! what a misapplication of words). Of course he hated the old woman; he was bound as a 'Walpolite' to do so. But still he had cherished a warm corner of respect for her in his heart, ever since she had dared his nurse in that courageous manner; and when he heard yesterday that the police were after her, he had all the will to run and tell her to get out of the way.

Of course he could not have done so ; but if Isabel had thought it right, then it would somehow have been right, so Billy judged ;-all the same, he didn't believe she had been at all.

And now he had seen her waiting for the cup, flushing and shrinking so painfully-as Isabel confessed to herself so foolishly and all those people looking at her, whilst he knew what they were thinking of. He drew back in wrath into his window corner, and would watch no longer. Then he had overheard about surveillance and incarceration, and—it was more than Billy could bear, and he marched indignantly off into the school-room to ascertain the sense of those words. He was not comforted by finding it in his dictionary.

Soon after, meeting his sister, he stopped her with the question, uttered in a low awed tone, 'How much is it, Issy?' 'What, dear?' she replied, in so troubled a voice.

'I mean,' said Billy, more boldly, 'how much money is it?' 'Eleven pounds, I fear, dear. It is a large sum for poor papa to lose! And I cannot repay him for a whole fortnight,' she added, almost to herself.

And Billy would have asked more questions, had she not looked so unhappy.

So he only put up his face for a kiss, which his sister

gave him, tenderly enough, and it comforted her; and then ran off to his cousins Clara and Amy.

His tale petrified these two girls with horror. Their idol Isabel to be in disgrace. They could not, would not believe it. But when Billy assured them that it was true, and that she was 'under surveillance,' whatever precisely that might mean; at anyrate in a jolly row, and to be ‘incarcerated,'—and Billy made an awful mouthful of this word, because he had quite carried away its meaning out of the dictionary—for he did not know how long! until the old woman was caught, or if that was never, until she could pay the terrific sum of eleven pounds, which she said herself would be a whole fortnight- -Billy stopped to take breath; and Amy and Clara began eagerly to consider how they could help her, breaking off, however, every now and again, with exclamations of distress and unbelief.

One mode of relief would be catching mother O'Neill. Billy was quite prepared to try; but with some hesitation he confessed, that he was not quite sure Isabel would be glad if they did. The girls wondered at this. But all three loyally dismissed every shadow of doubt upon the fair fame of their beloved friend, and set themselves to consider the second chance. Could they help her to pay! what could they give?

Billy had half-a-crown; they had better take it at once, he thought, though he was certain he should not spend it.

Clara and Amy had each something in the Post Office Savings Bank. Seventeen shillings or a pound, Amy thought hers amounted to. Clara had no certainty about her money, but she was sure it was not more than Amy's. She thought it was about the same. This would come to nearly L.2. Perhaps Tom would help, but he had just bought a bat, and they thought that he never kept very much anywhere. Billy would go and speak to Roger and Tom, who were both on the ice sliding, and perhaps they could tell him