face like a cat's, just before she spits), except Mr. Midwinter. He waited till it was time to go, and then he caught me alone for a moment in the hall. There was just time for him to take my hand and say two words. Shall I tell you how he took my hand, and what his voice sounded like when he spoke? Quite needless! You have always told me that the late Mr. Oldershaw doted on you. Just recall the first time he took your hand and whispered a word or two addressed to your private ear. To what did you attribute his behavior on that occasion? I have no doubt, if you had been playing on the piano in the course of the evening, you would have attributed it entirely to the music!

ever looked at me in that way before. Did you ever see the boa constrictor fed at the Zoological Gardens? They put a live rabbit into his cage, and there is a moment when the two creatures look at each other. I declare Mr. Bashwood reminded me of the rabbit!

"Why do I mention this? I don't know why. Perhaps I have been writing too long, and my head is beginning to fail me. Perhaps Mr. Bashwood's manner of admiring me strikes my fancy by its novelty. Absurd! I am exciting myself, and troubling you about nothing. Oh, what a weary, long letter I have written! and how brightly the stars look at me through the window-and how awfully quiet the night is! Send me some more of those sleeping drops, and write me one of your nice, wicked, amusing letters. You shall hear from me again as soon as I know a little better how it is all likely to end. Good-night, and keep a corner in your stony old heart for L. G."

"No! you may take my word for it, the harm is done. This man is no rattle-pated fool, who changes his fancies as readily as he changes his clothes-the fire that lights those big black eyes of his is not an easy fire, when a woman has once kindled it, for that woman to put out. I don't wish to discourage you; I don't say the chances are against us. But with Mrs. Milroy threatening me on one side, and Mr. Midwinter on the other, the worst of all risks to run is the risk of losing time. Young Armadale has hinted already, as well as such a lout can hint, at a private interview! Miss Milroy's eyes are sharp, and the nurse's eyes are sharper; and I shall lose my place if they either of them find me out. No matter! I must take my chance, and give him the interview. Only let me get him alone, only let me escape the prying eyes of the wo-man of business, what can I do to help you? I men, and if his friend doesn't come between us-I answer for the result!

"In the mean time have I any thing more to tell you? Are there any other people in our way at Thorpe-Ambrose? Not another creature! None of the resident families call here, young Armadale being, most fortunately, in bad odor in the neighborhood. There are no handsome highly-bred women to come to the house, and no persons of consequence to protest against his attentions to a governess. The only guests he could collect at his party to-night were the lawyer and his family (a wife, a son, and two daughters), and a deaf old woman and her sonall perfectly unimportant people, and all obedient humble servants of the stupid young squire.

3.-From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt. "DIANA STREET, PIMLICO, Monday. "MY DEAR LYDIA,-I am in no state of mind to write you an amusing letter. Your news is very discouraging, and the recklessness of your tone quite alarms me. Consider the money I have already advanced, and the interests we both have at stake. Whatever else you are don't be reckless, for Heaven's sake!

"What can I do?-I ask myself, as a wo

can't give you advice, for I am not on the spot, and I don't know how circumstances may alter from one day to another. Situated as we are now I can only be useful in one way; I can discover a new obstacle that threatens you, and I think I can remove it.

"You say, with great truth, that there never was a prospect yet without an ugly place in it, and that there are two ugly places in your prespect. My dear, there may be three ugly places if I don't bestir myself to prevent it; and the name of the third place will be--Brock! Is it possible you can refer, as you have done, to the Somersetshire clergyman and not see that the progress you make with young Armadale will be, sooner or later, reported to him by young Armadale's friend? Why, now I think of it, "Talking of obedient humble servants there you are doubly at the parson's mercy! You are is one other person established here who is em- at the mercy of any fresh suspicion which may ployed in the steward's office—a miserable, shab- bring him into the neighborhood himself at a by, dilapidated old man named Bashwood. He day's notice; and you are at the mercy of his is a perfect stranger to me, and I am evidently interference the moment he hears that the squire a perfect stranger to him; for he has been ask- is committing himself with a neighbor's governing the house-maid at the cottage who I am. ess. If I can do nothing else I can keep this It is paying no great compliment to myself to additional difficulty out of your way. And oh, confess it; but it is not the less true that I pro- Lydia, with what alacrity I shall exert myself duced the most extraordinary impression on this after the manner in which the old wretch infeeble old creature the first time he saw me. sulted me when I told him that pitiable story in He turned all manner of colors, and stood trem- the street! I declare I tingle with pleasure at bling and staring at me as if there was some- this new prospect of making a fool of Mr. Brock. thing perfectly frightful in my face. I felt quite startled for the moment-for of all the ways in which men have looked at me, no man

"And how is it to be done? Just as we have done it already, to be sure. He has lost Miss Gwilt' (otherwise my house-maid), hasn't he?

Very well.
He shall find her again, wherever
he is now, suddenly settled within easy reach
of him. As long as she stops in the place he
will stop in it; and as we know he is not at
Thorpe-Ambrose there you are free of him!
The old gentleman's suspicions have given us a
great deal of trouble so far. Let us turn them
to some profitable account at last; let us tie
him, by his suspicions, to my house-maid's
apron-string. Most refreshing! Quite a moral
retribution, isn't it?

"The only help I need trouble you for is help you can easily give. Find out from Mr. Midwinter where the parson is now, and let me know by return of post. If he is in London I will personally assist my house-maid in the necessary mystification of him. If he is any where else I will send her after him, accompanied by a person on whose discretion I can implicitly rely.

"You shall have the sleeping-drops to-morrow. In the mean time, I say at the end what I said at the beginning--no recklessness! Don't encourage poetical feelings by looking at the stars; and don't talk about the night being awfully quiet. There are people (in Observatories) paid to look at the stars for you-leave it to them. And as for the night, do what Providence intended you to do with the night when Providence provided you with eyelids-go to sleep in it.

"Affectionately yours,

"MARIA OLDERSHAW."

THE CLOUDING OF THE SKY.

NINE days had passed, and the tenth day was nearly at an end, since Miss Gwilt and her pupil had taken their morning walk in the cottage garden.

The night was overcast. Since sunset there had been signs in the sky from which the popular forecast had predicted rain. The receptionrooms at the great house were all empty and dark. Allan was away, passing the evening with the Milroys; and Midwinter was waiting his return-not where Midwinter usually waited, among the books in the library-but in the little back-room which Allan's mother had inhabited in the last days of her residence at ThorpeAmbrose.

Nothing had been taken away, but much had been added to the room, since Midwinter had

4.-From the Reverend Decimus Brock to Ozias first seen it. The books which Mrs. Armadale

Midwinter.

"BOSCOMBE RECTORY, WEST SOMERSET,
Thursday, July 3.

"MY DEAR MIDWINTER,-One line before the post goes out, to relieve you of all sense of responsibility at Thorpe-Ambrose, and to make my apologies to the lady who lives as governess in Major Milroy's family.

had left behind her, the furniture, the old matting on the floor, the old paper on the walls, were all undisturbed. The statuette of Niobe still stood on its bracket, and the French window still opened on the garden. But now, to the relics left by the mother, were added the personal possessions belonging to the son. The wall, bare hitherto, was decorated with water"The Miss Gwilt or perhaps I ought to say, color drawings-with a portrait of Mrs. Armathe woman calling herself by that name-has, dale, supported on one side by a view of the old to my unspeakable astonishment, openly made house in Somersetshire, and on the other by a her appearance here, in my own parish! She picture of the yacht. Among the books which is staying at the inn, accompanied by a plausi- bore in faded ink Mrs. Armadale's inscription, ble-looking man, who passes as her brother. "From my father," were other books inscribed What this audacious proceeding really means in the same handwriting, in brighter ink, "To unless it marks a new step in the conspiracy my son." Hanging to the wall, ranged on the against Allan, taken under new advice-is, of chimney-piece, scattered over the table, were a course, more than I can yet find out. host of little objects, some associated with Allan's past life, others necessary to his daily pleasures and pursuits, and all plainly testifying that the room which he habitually occupied at ThorpeAmbrose was the very room which had once recalled to Midwinter the second vision of the dream. Here, strangely unmoved by the scene around him, so lately the object of his superstitious distrust, Allan's friend now waited composedly for Allan's return-and here, more strangely still, he looked on a change in the household arrangements, due in the first instance entirely to himself. His own lips had revealed the discovery which he had made on the first

"My own idea is, that they have recognized the impossibility of getting at Allan, without finding me (or you) as an obstacle in their way; and that they are going to make a virtue of necessity by boldly trying to open their communications through me. The man looks capable of any stretch of audacity; and both he and the woman had the impudence to bow when I met them in the village half an hour since. They have been making inquiries already about Allan's mother-here, where her exemplary life may set their closest scrutiny at defiance. If they will only attempt to extort money, as the price of

Under what motives had he spoken the words? Under no motives which were not the natural growth of the new interests and the new hopes that now animated him.

morning in the new house; his own voluntary | whether Mrs. Armadale's conduct in Madeira act had induced the son to establish himself in had been kept secret on her return to England. the mother's room. Careful inquiry, first among the servants, then among the tenantry, careful consideration of the few reports current at the time, as repeated to him by the few persons left who remembered them, convinced him at last that the family secret had been successfully kept within the family limits. Once satisfied that whatever inquiries the son might make would lead to no disclosure which could shake his respect for his mother's memory, Midwinter had hesitated no longer. He had taken Allan into the room, and had shown him the books on the shelves, and all that the writing in the books disclosed. He had said plainly, "My one motive for not telling you this before sprang from my dread of interesting you in the room which I looked at with horror as the second of the scenes pointed at in the Dream. Forgive me this also, and you will have forgiven me all."

The entire change wrought in his convictions by the memorable event that had brought him face to face with Miss Gwilt, was a change which it was not in his nature to hide from Allan's knowledge. He had spoken openly, and had spoken as it was in his character to speak. The merit of conquering his superstition was a merit which he shrank from claiming, until he had first unsparingly exposed that superstition in its worst and weakest aspects to view. It was only after he had unreservedly acknowledged the impulse under which he had left Allan at the Mere that he had taken credit to himself for the new point of view from which he could now look at the Dream. Then, and not till then, he had With Allan's love for his mother's memory, spoken of the fulfillment of the first Vision, as but one result could follow such an avowal as the doctor at the Isle of Man might have spoken this. He had liked the little room from the first of it he had asked, as the doctor might have as a pleasant contrast to the oppressive grandeur asked, Where was the wonder of their seeing a of the other rooms at Thorpe-Ambrose; and pool at sunset, when they had a whole net-work now that he knew what associations were conof pools within a few hours' drive of them? and nected with it, his resolution was at once taken what was there extraordinary in discovering a to make it especially his own. The same day woman at the Mere, when there were roads that all his personal possessions were collected and led to it, and villages in its neighborhood, and arranged in his mother's room-in Midwinter's boats employed on it, and pleasure parties visit-presence, and with Midwinter's assistance given ing it? So again, he had waited to vindicate to the work. the firmer resolution with which he looked to the future, until he had first revealed all that he now saw himself of the errors of the past. The abandonment of his friend's interests, the unworthiness of the confidence that had given him the steward's place, the forgetfulness of the trust that Mr. Brock had reposed in him, all implied in the one idea of leaving Allan, were all pointed out. The glaring self-contradictions betrayed in accepting the Dream as the revelation of a fatality, and in attempting to escape that fatality by an exertion of free-will-in toiling to store up knowledge of the steward's duties for the future, and in shrinking from letting the future find him in Allan's house-were, in their turn, unsparingly exposed. To every error, to every inconsistency, he resolutely confessed, before he attempted to assert the clearer and better mind that was in him-before he ventured on the last simple appeal which closed all, "Will you trust me in the future? will you forgive and forget the past ?"

A man who could thus open his whole heart, without one lurking reserve inspired by consideration for himself, was not a man to forget any minor act of concealment of which his weakness might have led him to be guilty toward his friend. It lay heavy on Midwinter's conscience that he had kept secret from Allan a discovery which he ought in Allan's dearest interests to have revealed the discovery of his mother's

room.

But one doubt had closed his lips-the doubt |

Under those circumstances had the change now wrought in the household arrangements been produced; and in this way had Midwinter's victory over his own fatalism-by making Allan the daily occupant of a room which he might otherwise hardly ever have entered-actually favored the fulfillment of the Second Vision of the Dream.

The hour wore on quietly as Allan's friend sat waiting for Allan's return. Sometimes reading, sometimes thinking placidly, he whiled away the time. No vexing cares, no boding doubts troubled him now. The rent-day, which he had once dreaded, had come and gone harmlessly. A friendly understanding had been established between Allan and his tenants; Mr. Bashwood had proved himself to be worthy of the confidence reposed in him; the Pedgifts, father and son, had amply justified their client's good opinion of them. Wherever Midwinter looked the prospect was bright, the future was without a cloud.

He trimmed the lamp on the table beside him, and looked out at the night. The stable-clock was chiming the half-hour past eleven as he walked to the window, and the first rain-drops were beginning to fall. He had his hand on the bell to summon the servant, and send him over to the cottage with an umbrella, when he was stopped by hearing the familiar footstep on the walk outside.

"How late you are!" said Midwinter, as Al

lan entered through the open French window. "Was there a party at the cottage?"

"No! only ourselves. The time slipped away somehow."

"I can't say I should think it too old, if—”
"If you were really fond of her ?"
Once more there was no answer.

"Well," resumed Allan, "if there's no harm

He answered in lower tones than usual, and in her being only a governess, and no harm in sighed as he took his chair.

her being a little older than I am, what's the

"You seem to be out of spirits," pursued objection to Miss Gwilt?" Midwinter. "What's the matter?"

Allan hesitated. "I may as well tell you," he said, after a moment. "It's nothing to be ashamed of; I only wonder you haven't noticed it before! There's a woman in it, as usualI'm in love."

Midwinter laughed. "Has Miss Milroy been more charming to-night than ever?" he asked, gayly.

"Miss Milroy!" repeated Allan. "What are you thinking of? I'm not in love with Miss Milroy."

"Who is it, then ?"

"I have made no objection."

"I don't say you have. But you don't seem to like the notion of it, for all that."

There was another pause. Midwinter was the first to break the silence this time.

"Are you sure of yourself, Allan?" he asked, with his face bent once more over the book; "are you really attached to this lady? Have you thought seriously already of asking her to be your wife?"

"I am thinking seriously of it at this moment," said Allan. "I can't be happy-I can't live without her. Upon my soul, I worship the

"Who is it? What a question to ask! Who very ground she treads on. can it be but Miss Gwilt ?"

"How long-?" His voice faltered, and he "How long," he reiterated, "have

you worshiped the very ground she treads on?" "Longer than you think for. I know I can trust you with all my secrets-"

There was a sudden silence. Allan sat list-stopped. lessly, with his hands in his pockets, looking out through the open window at the falling rain. If he had turned toward his friend when he mentioned Miss Gwilt's name he might possibly have been a little startled by the change he would have seen in Midwinter's face.

"I suppose you don't approve of it?" he said, after waiting a little.

There was no answer.

"It's too late to make objections," proceeded Allan. "I really mean it when I tell you I'm in love with her."

"A fortnight since you were in love with Miss Milroy," said the other, in quiet, measured tones.

"Don't trust me!"

"Nonsense! I will trust you. There is a little difficulty in the way, which I haven't mentioned yet. It's a matter of some delicacy, and I want to consult you about it. Between ourselves, I have had private opportunities with Miss Gwilt—”

Midwinter suddenly started to his feet, and opened the door.

"We'll talk of this to-morrow," he said. "Good-night."

Allan looked round in astonishment. The

"Pooh! a mere flirtation. It's different this door was closed again, and he was alone in the time.

I'm in earnest about Miss Gwilt."

He looked round as he spoke. Midwinter turned his face aside on the instant and bent it over a book.

room.

'He has never shaken hands with me!" exclaimed Allan, looking bewildered at the empty chair.

As the words passed his lips the door opened, and Midwinter appeared again.

"We haven't shaken hands," he said, ab

"I see you don't approve of the thing," Allan went on. "Do you object to her being only a governess? You can't do that, I'm sure. If you were in my place, her being only a gov-ruptly. "God bless you, Allan! We'll talk erness wouldn't stand in the way with you?"

"No," said Midwinter; "I can't honestly say it would stand in the way with me." He gave the answer reluctantly, and pushed his chair back out of the light of the lamp.

of it to-morrow. Good-night."

Allan stood alone at the window, looking out at the pouring rain. He felt ill at ease, without knowing why. "Midwinter's ways get stranger and stranger," he thought. "What can he mean by putting me off till to-morrow when I wanted to speak to him to-night?" He took up his bedroom candle a little impatiently

"A governess is a lady who is not rich," said Allan, in an oracular manner; "and a duchess is a lady who is not poor. And that's all the difference I acknowledge between them. Miss-put it down again—and, walking back to the Gwilt is older than I am-I don't deny that. What age do you guess her at, Midwinter? I say seven or eight-and-twenty. What do you say?"

"Nothing. I agree with you."

"Do you think seven or eight-and-twenty is too old for me? If you were in love with a woman yourself, you wouldn't think seven or eightand-twenty too old--would you?"

open window, stood looking out in the direction of the cottage. "I wonder if she's thinking of me ?" he said to himself softly.

She was thinking of him. She had just opened her desk to write to Mrs. Oldershaw; and her pen had that moment traced the opening line: "Make your mind easy. I have got him!"

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