sidered by ally boy

curious little scene, of which he had

been a witness, nad pracer at once in the midst of the little drama. He seemed to himself to have shared in the shock Lottie had received. He walked softly by her side, saying little, full of compassion, but too sympathetic even to express his sympathy. He would not hurt her by seeming to be sorry for

her. When they parted he held her hand for a moment with a kind serious grasp, as if he had been her father, and said,

"You will send him to me to-morrow, Miss Despard? I shall expect him to-morrow."

had

"Oh-Law!" she said, with a little start and recovery. Poor Law gone out of her mind.

"Poor child!" he said, as he turned towards his house; but before he had crossed the road he was met by Captain Temple coming the other

way.

"Was that Miss Despard?" asked the old man. "Is it she you were saying good-night to? My wife told me she had gone towards the Slopes, and I was on my way to bring her home."

"I met her there, and I have just brought her home," said the Minor Canon. He could scarcely make out in the dark who his questioner was.

"That is all right—that is all right," said the old Chevalier.

"She

is left too much alone, and she should have some one to take care of her. I feel much obliged to you, Mr. Ashford, for I take a great interest in the young lady."

"It is Captain Temple?" said Mr. Ashford, peering at the old man with contracted, short-sighted eyes. "I beg your pardon. Yes, Miss Despard is quite safe; she has been talking to me about her brother. What kind of boy is he? I only know he is a big fellow, and not very fond of his work."

Captain Temple shook his head. "What can you expect? It is not the boy's fault; but she is the one I take an interest in. You know I had once a girl of my own? just such another, Mr. Ashford-just such another. I always think of her when I see this pretty creature. Poor things-how should they know the evil that is in the world. They think everybody as good as themselves, and when they find out the difference, it breaks their sweet hearts. I can't look at a young girl like that, not knowing what her next step is to bring her, without tears in my eyes."

The Minor Canon did not make any reply; his heart was touched, but not as Captain Temple's was touched. He looked back at the dim little house, where as yet there were no lights-not thinking of Lottie as an all-believing and innocent victim, but rather as a young Britomart, a helmeted and armed maiden, standing desperate in defence of her little stronghold against powers of evil which she was noways ignorant of. It did not occur to him that these images might be conjoined, and both be

true.

"I take a great interest in her," said old Captain Temple again, "and so does my wife, Mr. Ashford. My wife cannot talk of our loss as I do ; but though she says little, I can see that she keeps her eye upon Lottie. Poor child! She has no mother, and, for that matter, you might say no father either. She has a claim upon all good people. She may be thrown VOL. XXXVIII.-NO. 225. 18.

in your way sometimes, when none of us can be of any use to her. It would make me happy if you would say that you would keep an eye upon her too, and stand by her when she wants a friend."

"You may be sure I will do that-if ever it should be in my power."

"Thanks. You will excuse me speaking to you? Most people allow the right we have in our trouble to think of another like our own. I am quite happy to think you will be one of her knights too, Mr. Ashford. So will my wife. Ah, we owe a great deal—a great deal to innocence. Good-night, and my best thanks."

Mr. Ashford could not smile at the kind old Chevalier and his monomania. He went home very seriously to his dark little house, where no one had lighted his lamp. He was not so well served as the Signor. There was a faint light on the stairs, but none in his dark wainscoted library, where the three small deep windows were more than ever like three luminous yet dim pictures hanging upon a gloomy wall. When he had lighted his reading-lamp, the pictures were put out, and the glimmering dim interior, with its dark reflections and the touches of gilding and faded brown of his books, came into prominence. He half smiled to think of himself as one of Lottie Despard's knights; but outside of this calm and still place, what a glimpse had been afforded him of the tumults and miseries of the common world, within yet outside all the calm precincts of ordered and regular life! The girl with whom he had been talking, stood aux prises with all these forces, while he, so much more able for that battle, was calm and sheltered. To see her struggling against the impassibility of a nature less noble than her own-to think of her all forlorn and solitary, piteous in her youth and helplessness, on the verge of so many miseries, wrung his heart with pity, with tenderness, Was it something of envy too? All the powers of life were surging about Lottie, contending in her and around her; forces vulgar yet powerful, calling forth in that bit of a girl, in that slim creature, made, the man thought, for all the sweetness and protections of life, all its heroic qualities instead-while for such as he, thirty-five, and a man, fate held nothing but quiet, and mastery of all circumstances, Handel and the Abbey ! What a travesty and interchange of all that was fit and natural!—for him ought to be the struggle, for her the peace; but providence had not ordained it so.

with

without number; the weak have to Women and children labour while

How often is this so! times struggle while the strong look on. full-grown men rest; the sick and the feeble have all the powers of darkness to encounter, while the athlete yawns his unoccupied force away. So this strange paradox of a world runs on. The Minor Canon, who was of very gentle mould, with a heart open as day to melting charities, sat and thought of it with a giddiness and vertigo of the heart. He could not change it. He could not take up Lottie's trouble and give her his calm. One cannot stand in another's place--not you in mine, nor Ţ