about this time, no doubt. And I thought as | kicked them contemptuously over, and the unhow they had probably left the ladies all alone, happy creatures lay flapping and gasping upon so I'd better come and see if I could be of any the grass I glanced again at the sea, but the use; though I didn't think I'd have such luck Had the party gone off as to find only one pooty girl to talk to!" And Had the sea swallowed the horrible face grinned sardonically upon me. I tried to speak as haughtily as I could. "You had better pass on, Sir; I've no wish to talk to you, and if you annoy me by staying here I shall be obliged to call for assistance." It was of course too much in the "John, bring the gun" style to impose upon so practiced a hand. He had probably watched our movements for hours, and knew his ground well. "You may call, my dear," he replied, "and holler and screetch, and I'll promise to set still and let any body take me as comes! You know as well as I do that there's nobody within car-shot or gun-shot; and the best thing you can do is to keep a civil tongue in your head, and I sha'n't offer no rudeness." So saying, he turned him to the table, muttering that he was empty enough by this time, and looking as disconsolately as we did at the slender feast prepared. Quick work did he make with the provisions, crushing the egg-shells and crunching the macaroons. "Pretty food," he remarked, "for a man who was up o' nights! I'll trouble you for your watch, Miss." "I haven't it with me," I replied, firmly. He glanced at my waist. "Your purse, then." "I haven't that either," I replied, and turned out my pocket to verify my words. He took the handkerchief, scarf, and gloves which it contained, contemptuously but promptly transferred them to his own pocket, and then looked around. The silver was of course the first thing that met his eye, though nearly concealed by a shawl which had been thrown over it. "That's more like," he said, with great satisfaction, and proceeded to pocket the forks and spoons, and to tie up my father's superb old goblets in a villainous-looking bandanna. "There's a pretty lump," said he; "you'll never see these again, my dear; they'll be melted down before you are two hours older-that's our way." Just then I saw the shadow of a distant sail, and felt that my perils were lighter. He did not see it, but looked down upon me till I feared he would see the gleam of gold through the leafy screen in my lap, and hear the tick-tick which came so clearly to my ears, almost drowning the thick beating of my heart. He touched my hair. "Only gilt, I sec," he grumbled, and put back the comb which held up my curls. "I wonder you ladies ain't ashamed to wear them bogus things. How's a man to know what's worth taking? Perhaps this is brass too;" and he made a snatch at my brooch. I shuddered at his touch and shrank away. "No, it is not brass," I said. "Wait a moment and I will give it to you." And I unclasped my pretty pin and yielded it to his dirty, horny fingers. And the shadow crept noiselessly nearer, and my heart bounded with relief. The ruffian seized the pails, and finding how unworthy their contents were of his attention sail had disappeared. on some new whim? them up? Were they landing at some new point? Or did my hopes deceive me, and was not that the Fairy, with her friendly freight, after all? Perhaps only some fishermen. I felt sure I had seen one standing figure; or perhaps some more dreadful tramps to trouble me. And as I sat and looked and listened, with a fainting heart, I fancied I heard a very faint, scraping sound, as of a keel upon the sand. The man turned and looked, and said, “Well, I must be off." Then suddenly descrying through my clasped fingers the gleam of my precious ring, he cried, "Hollo! here is a find! Now, my girl, you just take that off as genteelly as you did that 'ere breast-pin, or else I'll help you." I sat in despair. I could not give up my ring. How could I forget it! How easily I might have saved it! I entreated; I wept. I told him I would send any sum of money he would name to any direction he might give, and promised upon my honor that no inquiry should be made. "Only do not take my ring." He grinned broadly. "I'm not such a greenhorn as ye take me for, ma'am. I'll not put you to any trouble but just to open your fingers and give me that shiner, or I'll have to take it myself." I clasped my hands in despair. He seized them with a violent grasp, clutched the ring, and would have torn it off in another instant, but was suddenly laid prostrate by a violent blow from behind, and Frank Lee fell upon him and held him down. "Quick, Helen!" he cried; “call Charley; he's just behind." I sprang to my feet, with a cry on my lips, and the six watches and purses clattered to the ground, and were seen at last by the burglar, who gave such a violent start and jerk at the sight that he almost wrested himself from Frank's grasp, and my stalwart cousin was not a second too soon. They held him down and bound him tight. The other gentlemen, who were quickly on the scene of action, brought the boat's rope and tied it around his arms and legs. They emptied his pockets of his ill-gotten gains, and Frank's indignation rose higher than ever when he found my poor little scarf and handkerchief defiled by such a hiding-place. They lifted the great, prostrate, helpless hulk between them, and bore him down in a procession to his own small, leaky, dirty boat, which they tied to the Fairy, and left him rocking there, to be towed home behind us to safe custody and a prison. What a chatter and a clatter there was just afterward when our little ladies returned, with their baskets laden with potatoes, eggs, apples, and loaves of rye bread! How each one stole on tip-toe to the point of observation to peep at the helpless foe! And what a heroine I was that day as I recapitulated my adventures, and was glad to lean back and shut my eyes and rest at last while the Doctor explained how, as they were drawing within sight of land, Frank had taken the spy-glass from the locker and brought the whole scene to their view. How they had seen my white dress first; and then to their surprise no other figure except one large one, which, as they drew a little nearer, proved to be a man, and well knowing no man had a right there, and suspecting some annoyance at the least, they had steered directly for the beach; and Frank had leaped from the boat before it touched the shore and sped up the hill closely followed by Charley Grant. How thankful I was, and how tired after my long strain of fear! I longed to cry or to go to sleep, I hardly knew which; and was grateful, indeed, to dear Dr. Gilbert for taking me off to a shady place away from all the bustle, and letting me rest there undisturbed. Of the picnic and its feast I have little more to tell. Perhaps the coarser fare so hard-worked for was better to the hungry ones than more accustomed dainties would have been. Perhaps potatoes and eggs are never so unrivaled in flavor as when roasted in the ashes of a little camp oven. I am inclined to judge so, but was hardly competent to form an opinion on that occasion. From time to time, as the grand cooking business approached its climax, one or another of the unemployed would steal down as volunteer-scout to overlook the prisoner, and the last report was that he was asleep with his hat shoved over his eyes. But when we finally gathered together our little band, and packed our baskets again, and mourned over the untimely end of shrimps and sticklebacks, and went our way down to the beach with a shuddering thought of that leaky little boat with its disagreeable occupant, who were to follow in our homeward track-behold! no boat was there. Boat and boatman alike had disappeared, the rope was cut-prize was gone-whither? The horizon told no tales, nor in our homeward sail did we see any thing resembling our escaped prisoner and his craft. He had stolen a march upon us, that was all we knew. How or where we shall never know, I suppose; for from that day and from that hour I have never seen my burglar! We found on our return, as we felt sure we should, the black dog and the red shawl, and underneath the Gilbert hamper, untouchedalthough the faithful old fellow by its side had guarded it from fifty loungers-had resisted innumerable temptations in the shape of sticks thrown into the water, etc., and the constant temptation of his own dinnerless instincts, rendered keener than ever by the chronic scent of chicken-pie under his very nose ! There's a dog for you. Well, as I said, I never again saw my burglar, nor am I at all anxious for that honor. But three days afterward as I was walking alone up Chapel Street toward dusk, quickening my steps as the shadows deepened, I approached two men, who shuffled before me with lounging steps, and I heard one of them say, "I tell you she was a bang-up, smart gal! All the while she sat still with all six of them in her lap, and he never misdoubted it!" I hurried on, determined to pass them and get a good look at their faces, when they turned suddenly into a cross-street and disappeared in the darkness of an oyster-cellar. I am sure it was not my burglar, but it must have been his pal. ON THE SHORE. How calm he lies and still! The sea, who slew him, laid him there, Along the shingle bleak and bare, With wild caresses, in despair For having wrought her will: With deep remorseful moan In every wave that smites the strand, Like theirs who rear a frantic hand To heaven the while aghast they stand At what themselves have done. "Twas but an hour ago, Too late repentant now, None but the hoarse sea-ware None but the wave is there To lips erewhile so fair. Is there no beauty now? With smooth unruffled brow. So lies he calm and still. Unearthly strains across the bay Stream o'er him with the sun's last ray, And whispered greetings far away The cloudless azure thrill. felt impatient and ill at ease, for the first time | wrote privately to Miss Gwilt's reference on this in his life, with every body who came near him. very subject. I had long observed that my governess was singularly reluctant to speak of her family and her friends; and without attributing her silence to other than perfectly proper motives, I felt it my duty to my daughter to make some inquiry on the subject. The answer that I have received is satisfactory as far as it goes. My correspondent informs me that Miss Gwilt's story is a very sad one, and that her own conduct throughout has been praiseworthy in the extreme. The circumstances (of a domestic nature, as I gather) are all plainly stated in a collection of letters now in the possession of Miss Gwilt's reference. This lady is perfectly willing to let me see the letters-but not possessing copies of them, and being personally responsible for their security, she is reluctant, if it can be avoided, to trust them to the post; and she begs me to wait until she or I can find some reliable person who can be employed to "A letter, Sir; and the person waits for an transmit the packet from her hands to mine. answer." "Now then! what is it?" he asked, impatiently. "Under these circumstances it has struck me that you might possibly, with your interest in the matter, be not unwilling to take charge of the papers. If I am wrong in this idea, and if you are not disposed, after what I have told you, to go to the trouble and expense of a journey to London, you have only to burn my letter and inclosure, and to think no more about it. If you decide on becoming my envoy, I gladly provide you with the necessary introduction to Mrs. Mandeville. You have only, on present Allan looked at the address. It was in a strange handwriting. He opened the letter; and a little note inclosed in it dropped to the ground. The note was directed, still in the strange handwriting, to "Mrs. Mandeville, 18 Kingsdown Crescent, Bayswater. Favored by Mr. Armadale." More and more surprised, Allan turned for information to the signature at the end of the letter. It was "Anne Milroy." "Anne Milroy ?" he repeated. "It must be the major's wife. What can she possibly wanting it, to receive the letters in a sealed packet, with me?" By way of discovering what she wanted, Allan did at last what he might more wisely have done at first. He sat down to read the letter. "Private. "THE COTTAGE, Monday. "DEAR SIR,-The name at the end of these lines will, I fear, recall to you a very rude return made on my part, some time since, for an act of neighborly kindness on yours. I can only say in excuse that I am a great sufferer, and that if I was ill-tempered enough, in a moment of irritation under severe pain, to send back your present of fruit, I have regretted doing so ever since. Attribute this letter, if you please, to my desire to make you some atonement, and to my wish to be of service to our good friend and landlord if I possibly can. to send them here on your return to ThorpeAmbrose, and to wait an early communication from me acquainting you with the result. "In conclusion, I have only to add that I see no impropriety in your taking (if you feel so inclined) the course that I propose to you. Miss Gwilt's manner of receiving such allusions as I have made to her family circumstances has rendered it unpleasant for me (and would render it quite impossible for you) to seek information in the first instance from herself. I am certainly justified in applying to her reference; and you are certainly not to blame for being the medium of safely transmitting a sealed communication from one lady to another. If I find in that communication family secrets which can not honorably be mentioned to any third person, I shall of course be obliged to keep you waiting until I have first appealed to Miss Gwilt. If I find nothing recorded but what is to her honor, and what is sure to raise her still higher in your estimation, I am undeniably doing her a service by taking you into my confidence. This is how I look at the matter-but pray don't allow me to influence you. "I have been informed of the question which you addressed to my husband the day before yesterday on the subject of Miss Gwilt. From all I have heard of you, I am quite sure that your anxiety to know more of this charming person than you know now is an anxiety proceeding from the most honorable motives. Believing this, I feel a woman's interest-incurable invalid "In any case I have one condition to make, as I am-in assisting you. If you are desirous which I am sure you will understand to be inof becoming acquainted with Miss Gwilt's fami- dispensable. The most innocent actions are ly circumstances without directly appealing to liable, in this wicked world, to the worst possiMiss Gwilt herself, it rests with you to make the ble interpretation. I must therefore request discovery-and I will tell you how. that you will consider this communication as "It so happens that some few days since I strictly private. I write to you in a confidence which is on no account (until circumstances may, in my opinion, justify the revelation of it) to extend beyond our two selves. "Believe me, dear Sir, truly yours, "ANNE MILROY." In this tempting form the unscrupulous ingenuity of the major's wife had set the trap. Without a moment's hesitation Allan followed his impulses as usual, and walked straight into it-writing his answer and pursuing his own reflections simultaneously, in a highly characteristic state of mental confusion. mentioned on the previous evening at the great house. The necessary explanations exchanged, it was decided that the two should travel in the same carriage. Allan was glad to have a companion; and Pedgift, enchanted as usual to make himself useful to his client, bustled away to get the tickets and see to the luggage. Sauntering to and fro on the platform until his faithful follower returned, Allan came suddenly upon no less a person than Mr. Bashwood himself— standing back in a corner with the guard of the train, and putting a letter (accompanied, to all appearance, by a fee) privately into the man's hand. eh ?" If Mr. Bashwood had been caught in the act of committing murder he could hardly have shown greater alarm than he now testified at Allan's sudden discovery of him. Snatching off his dingy old hat, he bowed bareheaded, in a palsy of nervous trembling from head to foot. "No, Sir-no, Sir; only a little letter, a little letter, a little letter," said the deputy-steward, taking refuge in reiteration, and bowing himself swiftly backward out of his employer's sight. "By Jupiter, this is kind of Mrs. Milroy!" ("My dear madam.") "Just the thing I want- "Hullo!" cried Allan, in his hearty way. ed, at the time when I needed it most!" ("I" Something important there, Mr. Bashwooddon't know how to express my sense of your kindness, except by saying that I will go to London and fetch the letters with the greatest pleasure.") "She shall have a basket of fruit regularly every day, all through the season." ("I will go at once, dear madam, and be back to-morrow.") "Ah, nothing like the women for helping one when one is in love! This is just what my poor mother would have done in Mrs. Milroy's place." ("On my word of honor as a gentleman, I will take the utmost care of the letters, and keep the thing strictly private, as you request.") "I would have given five hundred pounds to any body who would have put me up to the right way to speak to Miss Gwilt, and here is this blessed woman does it for nothing." ("Believe me, my dear madam, gratefully yours, Allan Armadale.") Having sent his reply out to Mrs. Milroy's messenger, Allan paused in a momentary perplexity. He had an appointment with Miss Gwilt in the park for the, next morning. It was absolutely necessary to let her know that he would be unable to keep it; she had forbidden him to write, and he had no chance that day of seeing her alone. In this difficulty he determined to let the necessary intimation reach her through the medium of a message to the major, announcing his departure for London on business, and asking if he could be of service to any member of the family. Having thus removed the only obstacle to his departure, Allan consulted the time-table, and found, to his disappointment, that there was a good hour to spare before it would be necessary to drive to the railway-station. In his existing frame of mind he would infinitely have preferred starting for London in a violent hurry. When the time came at last, Allan, on passing the steward's office, drummed at the door, and called through it, to Mr. Bashwood, "I'm going to town-back to-morrow." There was no answer from within; and the servant interposing, informed his master that Mr. Bashwood, having no business to attend to that day, had locked up the office, and had left some hours since. On reaching the station the first person whom Allan encountered was Pedgift Junior, going to London on the legal business which he had Allan turned carelessly on his heel. "I wish I could take to that fellow," he thought-"but I can't; he's such a sneak! What the deuce was there to tremble about? Does he think I want to pry into his secrets ?" Mr. Bashwood's secret on this occasion concerned Allan more nearly than Allan supposed. The letter which he had just placed in charge of the guard was nothing less than a word of warning addressed to Mrs. Oldershaw, and written by Miss Gwilt. "If you can hurry your business" (wrote the major's governess) "do so, and come back to London immediately. Things are going wrong here, and Miss Milroy is at the bottom of the mischief. This morning she insisted on taking up her mother's breakfast, always on other occasions taken up by the nurse. They had a long confabulation in private; and half an hour later I saw the nurse slip out with a letter, and take the path that leads to the great house. The sending of the letter has been followed by young Armadale's sudden departure for London-in the face of an appointment which he had with me for to-morrow morning. This looks serious. The girl is evidently bold enough to make a fight of it for the position of Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe-Ambrose, and she has found out some way of getting her mother to help her. Don't suppose I am in the least nervous or discouraged; and don't do any thing till you hear from me again. Only get back to London, for I may have serious need of your assistance in the course of the next day or two. "I send this letter to town (to save a post) by the mid-day train, in charge of the guard. As you insist on knowing every step I take at Thorpe-Ambrose, I may as well tell you that my messenger (for I can't go to the station my |