We

"But it was not to become known; it was to be a secret. were flying from England and from all those we knew, to hide ourselves somewhere or other, never to return. Hilda knew that marriage was impossible for me, save at the cost of beggary, and she had agreed to share my fortunes. But no one but myself knows what the consent had cost her, and I wanted to preserve the appearance, at least, of honour. We had met at the railway station, and were starting on what I wanted to make her feel was a honeymoon tour. She was my bride, starting with me on our wedding trip. I had no expectation of meeting any acquaintance. You know how retired my life has been, and how very limited my circle of acquaintances. When I met Burrard so unexpectedly, the falsehood came naturally to my lips." "But your

relations with the

lady being as you describe, how comes it, my young friend, that you did not, on finding marriage to be practicable, take steps to maintain those relations intact until you were married? The brother, as I infer, was not sent for until some time afterwards-just before you went to Rouen ?"

Clifford hesitated.

"You see," pursued the other, as Clifford still remained silent, "if matters are to be set straight, it is quite necessary that I should be put in possession of the whole facts. Yours," he continued, with a caustic smile, "is not the first secret by a good many that has come into my keeping."

"There, Mr. Gale," said Clifford at last, " you have hit upon my crime. I know too well what I ought to have done or rather, what I ought not to have done. I was carried away by passion, and bitterly have I repented of it since."

"I can understand your precipitancy, my good sir, although no doubt you would have acted better if you had acted differently; but the lady being as you describe her, I am surprised that she should not have held back on making this discovery, and have withdrawn herself from you till she had her marriage lines to go by."

"But don't you yet understand, Mr. Gale," Clifford exclaimed, "that all that you and I know of these conditions by which I was bound, were unknown to her? All that she was told was that if I married any one other than my cousin I was beggared. She did not, and even now does not, in the least understand that my cousin's marriage freed me from my chains; still less did she or does she know that by waiting for a few years I could have married her and still kept a remnant of my fortune. Had she

known this, she would have shrunk with horror from my proposals, as indeed she did when first I made them, telling her only half the truth. Remember, too, that she was friendless, alone, and deserted by her father, and that it was then I deceived her-deceived her so basely. After all, I believe, she yielded merely from a feeling that duty and gratitude called on her to sacrifice herself to me. I have been bitterly sensible, ever since, that I was a villain to take advantage of that feeling; but there may be instances of more real purity without than within the bond of matrimony, and believe me, sir, this is one of them."

The lawyer leant back in his chair with folded arms, watching the young man's ardent protestations. They had evidently made an impression on him.

"Still," he said presently, "there is one thing yet to be explained. Mrs. Clifford having been led to believe that marriage between you was impossible, save at the cost of utter ruin in fortune, how came she to be reconciled to your making such a sacrifice on her account? You say that she does not even yet know that your cousin's marriage set you free. By what reasons were you able to satisfy her that you could do now, what you had represented to be impossible before?"

"The marriage was forced on her by surprise. She was staying with her brother at Rouen, apart from me. I had gone there in advance to arrange matters, without telling her of my purpose. The morning after her arrival I called and took her for a walk, and led her into the church, where everything was ready. She was very unwilling to consent. She thought that I had proposed the marriage because I saw how much she was suffering

from the shame of her false position, although not a soul about us had a suspicion on the subject; but there was no time to resist without making a scene. Then we went to the Consul's office, and were married again. She still thinks I have risked everything to marry her, and the gratitude with which she repays me is one of the punishments I have to bear for my perfidy. She thinks we have come home to see if something cannot be secured out of the estate. She infers that my cousin's marriage may make some difference to me, but to what extent, or in what way, she has not a notion. I told her I hoped to save some fragments out of the fire. And the bitterest part of it is that I must keep the truth from her for ever, or I should never be able to look her in the face again."

"Well, Bryant," said the lawyer, on returning to the room where he had left that gentleman, "you see the necessity for hearing both sides to a case. Here, according to the version you first gave me, was a designing woman who had forced her way into a young fellow's chambers, and after living with him as his mistress, had at last wheedled him into marrying her. But if our young friend himself is to be believed, she is a paragon of sensibility and delicacy, more really virtuous than most women who give themselves to honourable wedlock. Which is the correct version?"

face, he has succeeded in satisfying even you?"

"He has, unless he is a greater simpleton than I take him to be. But I should like to see the lady herself before coming to a final conclusion."

"True," said Bryant; "and why should we not go and pay her a visit at once? Their hotel is not far from here. Can you spare half an hour?"

And Gale replying that it was very desirable to get the matter settled out of hand, they set off, asking Clifford, who had been left in the other room, to accompany them, merely saying to him, by way of explanation, that they wished to call and make his wife's acquaint

ance.

66

You won't betray me?" said Clifford in a low voice to Gale, as they sallied forth from the lawyer's office. The other signified by an expressive look, which Clifford thought slightly contemptuous, that he might be trusted.

The visitors found Hilda sitting with her little brother, and Clifford could plainly notice the impression which his wife made on them. Whatever they had been led to expect-both the one who knew the whole story and the other who did not any suspicions they might have still retained were at once disarmed by making Hilda's acquaintance. Her marriage, and what she supposed to be her husband's noble, self-sacrificing conduct, had restored her to herself. Wholly unsuspecting the errand on which the gentlemen had come, and ignorant, of course, of their having any knowledge of her past relations with Clifford, her manner was free from embarrassment, her gentle dignified bearing and sweet face could not fail to win their way, and when the two gentlemen rose to take their leave, they were in friendly

rivalry which should be the first to secure her for a visit.

"My wife and daughters are longing to make your acquaintance," "said Mr. Bryant. Which was not true, for he had thrown out such dark hints to his wife that Clifford had been making a fool of himself, and had become the victim of a designing woman, as to have given Mrs. Bryant the worst impression of poor Hilda; but he fully intended to set to work as soon as he got home that afternoon and efface the bad effect which his gloomy reports had created.

"Mine is but a cottage," said the lawyer, "which I have taken for a few weeks to get a little fresh country air; but it is a pretty little place in its way, and if Mrs. Clifford does not mind roughing it, she would be conferring a favour if she would come with her husband for a week or two to brighten up the solitude of my bachelor quarters."

Bachelor's quarters!" cried Bryant," our friend Gale, here, is a perfect sybarite; he has no expensive daughters to spend his money for him. You will find his house at Reigate a perfect showplace; and you ought to see his pictures in town, as you will, no doubt, when he comes back. But we must put in a claim too for an early visit, while our part of the country is still looking its best. My girls, my dear Mrs. Clifford, will never forgive your husband if you give the first preference to Gale." And it was arranged that Clifford and his wife should go to Sunningdale in a few days, when Arthur's holidays would come to an end, and should then pass on to visit Mr. Gale at Reigate.

This being settled, the two visitors took their leave, and Clifford, although watching the course of the interview with delight at the evident impression made by his

wife, yet hailed its termination with a feeling of relief, being in dread all the time lest some remark should be made either to shame Hilda or to disclose his own base treatment of her. But the old lawyer, who alone of the two knew of Hilda's secret, was too astute to let fall any hint, and Bryant was too much occupied with plans for future hospitality to dwell upon the past; but just as they were leaving, the conversation bordered on dangerous ground.

"When first I heard of my young friend's marriage," said Mr. Bryant to Hilda, as he held her

hand in both his own with a benevolent smile, "I was afraid that he had made a fool of himself; now that I have seen what the attraction was, I can understand his behaviour. Even if he had thrown away his fortune to gain so charming a bride, one could hardly have blamed him; but seeing that

"Come along, Bryant," said Gale, interrupting him; "I have an appointment overdue already," and hurried him out of the room.

It was a great escape, but Clifford felt that he might not always be so fortunate.

When Clifford went again next day by appointment to the lawyer's office, he met with a very different reception from that which he had on his first visit. Mr. Gale showed no disposition to dwell any longer on his story, or to question its accuracy, but addressed himself entirely to the solution of the difficulty, which, he said, practically resolved itself into the terms which should be made with Burrard; for as Blanche, by marrying, had no longer any rights of her own, the settlement, whatever it might be, must be made with her husband. The lawyer pooh-poohed Clifford's proposal to surrender four-fifths of his fortune. The Burrards had no claim on him; he had not misled them in any way, or given them any reasonable cause, when they made their runaway marriage, to suppose that they were entitled to a farthing of the money. And when Clifford pleaded his promise, Gale scouted the notion that Burrard would wish to hold him to it as soon as he knew the facts. Clifford urged that Burrard should not be told the facts. He was still

quite ready to hold by his promise if his wife's secret could be secured by doing so. But this Gale said it was impossible to secure-the matter had gone too far. All that could be done was to prevent the secret from going beyond the parties interested; to arrange for keeping them quiet. The first thing was to satisfy the other side that they had no case, and it might be hoped that this would not be difficult. As for verbal promises, it was absurd to suppose that a word spoken in the hurry of a steamboat passage could be accepted as the basis for the transfer of a fortune. Burrard would not expect such a thing. There was no reason to suppose that he would not wish to act honourably; and his solicitors were very respectable people. The disappointment in store for the Captain had not really altered his position. There could be little doubt that, when he married Miss Scallan, it was not in the expectation of getting her cousin's fortune -at any rate so shrewd a man ought not to have jumped at such a conclusion without evidence-but

under the belief that he was marrying the only child of a very rich man, as Scallan was then reputed to be. Such was the lawyer's way of looking at the case. But when Clifford went on to urge that something was due in any case to his cousin as compensation for her disappointment, and to press his desire to carry out what was certainly the plain intention of the will, that the two cousins should share the fortune between them, Mr. Gale observed that this was just what he was coming to. A compromise of this sort, if it could be arranged, was probably the best course to pursue under the circumstances. It would keep things quiet, and would satisfy the equitable claims of all parties. But it could only be assented to, provided that the other side accepted a partial surrender of the property as a free gift on Clifford's part, and expressly repudiated any pretensions to have a claim on the estate. And it was finally arranged that the affair should proceed on these lines.

All this was not settled in a day. Numerous visits had to be paid to Mr. Gale's office, and a lengthy correspondence ensued between his firm and Burrard's solicitors which consumed time; but eventually it was arranged that the trustees should continue to pay the proceeds of the estate to Clifford's account until the termination of the trust, when the property would become his; and that he should undertake to pay one-half of his income from it to trustees nominated on behalf of his cousin. From this amount an annuity of five hundred a-year was to be set aside for Mrs. Scallan, and the remainder was to go to his cousin, by way of compensation on Clifford's part for not having carried out his father's wishes, and as an equitable adjustment of the desire embodied in the will; it being

recited and agreed that such distribution of the property was to be deemed to be made entirely of Clifford's free will, and the other side expressly repudiating all claim on the estate on the part of his cousin. It was further provided that the payment was to be reduced by one-half, save as regards the annuity to Mrs. Scallan, in the event of Burrard succeeding to his father's title, or becoming the eldest son. Both contingencies were likely to happen, and the latter first; for Lord Mount-Burrard was in very delicate health, and had gone on a sea voyage to Australia to escape a winter in Europe. This stipulation was inserted at Mr. Gale's suggestion. There was no call, he said, for Clifford to support the heir-apparent to a peerage, and it would only weaken the case to offer such terms; the most that could be allowed in such an event was a reasonable amount of pinmoney for the lady. Clifford had cause many a time during the negotiations to blush for his poor wife, and to feel all the bitterness of guilty self-reproach, as the facts relating to this painful chapter in her life, wrung from him at first as a secret to be divulged only to the trustees and their confidential adviser, were bandied to and fro between the lawyers; and copied, no doubt, into formal letters and discussed by the lawyers' clerks on both sides. How could that be called a secret any longer which was known to so many people? and where was the list to stop of those to whom it was confided? Gale was forced to admit, when Clifford expressed his apprehensions on the subject, that there was no longer any possibility of binding those concerned to secrecy. Burrard had no doubt acquainted the members of his family with the facts, and a woman could hardly be looked for