should be taken to-day. She went downstairs with a gleam of resolution in her eyes. After the shock of finding out that there is a painful thing to do, the determination to do it at once is a relief. It brings an almost pleasure into the pain to set your face to it bravely and get done with it: there is thus an exhilaration even in what is most disagreeable. So Lottie felt. Her despondency and depression were gone. She had something definite to do, and she would do it, let what obstacle soever stand in the way. She made the family tea and cut the bread with more energy than usual. She was the first visible, as she always was, but her mind was fully occupied with her own affairs, and she was glad enough to be alone for half an hour. After that she had to go up again and knock at her father's door to remind him that there was but little time for breakfast before the bell began to ring for matins; but she had taken her own breakfast and begun her work before the Captain and Law came downstairs. When she had poured out their tea for them she sat down in the window-seat with her sewing. She did not take any share in their talk, neither did she watch, as she often did, the stir of morning life in the Dean's Walk-the tradesmen's carts going about, the perambulators from the town pushing upward, with fresh nursemaids behind, to the shady walk on the Slopes, now and then a tall red soldier showing against the grey wall of the Abbey opposite, the old Chevaliers beginning to turn out, taking their little morning promenade before the bells began. The stir was usually pleasant to Lottie, but she took no notice of it to-day. She was going to matins herself this morning-not perhaps altogether for devotion, but with the idea, after the service, of lying in wait at the north gate for the exit of the Signor.

How it was that the subject came under discussion Lottie did not know. She woke to it only when it came across herself and touched upon her own thoughts. It was Law who was saying something (it was fit for him to say so !), grumbling about the inequality of education, and that girls had just as good a right to work as boys.

"I should like to know," he said, "why I should have to get hold of a lot of books, and trot over to old Ashford, and work like a slave till one o'clock, while she sits as cool and as fresh as can be, and never stirs." He was not addressing anybody in particular, but grumbling to the whole world at large, which was Law's way. Generally, his father took no notice of him, but some prick of sensation in the air no doubt moved him to-day.

"Speak of things you know something about," said the Captain; "that's the best advice I can give you, Law. And let Lottie alone. Who wants her to work? The fresher she looks and the better she looks, the more likely she is to get a husband; and that's a girl's first duty. Is that the bell?" said Captain Despard, rising, drawing himself up, and pulling his collar and wrist-bands into due display. "Let me hear nothing about work. No daughter of mine shall ever disgrace herself and me in that way. Get yourself a husband, my child; that's

the only work I'll ever permit, that's all a lady can do. A good husband, Lottie. If I heard of some one coming forward, I'd be happier, I don't deny. Bring him to the scratch, my dear; or if you're in difficulty refer him to me."

He was gone before Lottie could utter a word of the many that rushed to her lips. She turned upon Law instead, who sat and chuckled behind his roll. "If it had not been for you, he would not have insulted

me so!" she cried. "Oh, insulted you!-you need not be so grand. They say you may have Purcell if you like," said Law, "or even the Signor; but it's the other fellow, Ridsdale, you know, your old flame, the governor is thinking of. If you could catch him now! though I don't believe a fellow like that could mean anything. But even Purcell is better than nothing. If you would take my advice"

Her self

Lottie did not stay to hear any more. He laughed as she rushed out of the room, putting up her hands to her ears. But Law was surprised that she did not strike a blow for herself before she left him. restraint had a curious effect upon the lad. "Is anything up ?" he said to himself. Generally it was no difficult matter to goad Lottie to fury with allusions like this. He sat quite still and listened while she ran upstairs into her own room, which was overhead. Then Law philosophically addressed himself to what was left of the breakfast. He had an excellent appetite, and the bell ringing outside which called so many people but not him, and the sight of the old Chevaliers streaming across the road, and the morning congregation hurrying along to the door in the cloisters, pleased him as he finished his meal, without even his sister's eye upon him to remark the ravages he made in the butter. But when he heard Lottie's step coming downstairs again Law stopped, not without a sense of guilt, and listened intently. She did not come in, which was a relief, but his surprise was great when he heard her walk past the open door of the little dining-room, and next moment saw her flit past the window on the way to the Abbey. He got up, though he had not finished, and stared after her till she, too, disappeared in the cloister. Something must be up," he repeated to himself.

66

Lottie's silence, however, was not patience, neither was it any want of susceptibility to what had been said. Even this, probably, she would have felt more had her mind not been preoccupied by her great resolution. But when she found herself in the Abbey abstracted from all external circumstances, the great voice of the organ filling the beautiful place, the people silently filling up the seats, the choir in their white robes filing in, it seemed very strange to Lottie that the service could go on as it did, undisturbed by the beats of her heart and the commotion of her thoughts. Enough trouble and tumult to drown even the music were in that one corner where she leant her shoulder against the old dark oak, finding some comfort in the physical support. And she did not, it must be allowed, pay very much attention to the service; her voice

joined in the responses fitfully, but her heart wandered far away. No, not far away. Mr. Ashford's counsel, and her father's, kept coming and going through her mind. Truth to tell, Captain Despard's decision against the possibility of work gave work an instant value in his daughter's eyes. We do not defend Lottie for her undutifulness; but as most of the things she had cared for in her life had been opposed by her father, and all the things against which she set her face in fierceness of youthful virtue were supported by him, it could scarcely be expected that his verdict would be very effectual with her. It gave her a little spirit and encouragement in her newly-formed resolution, and it helped her a little to overcome the prejudice in her mind when she felt that her father was in favour of that prejudice. He did not want her to work, to bring the discredit of a daughter who earned her own living upon him; he wanted to sell her to any one who would offer for her, to make her "catch some man, to put forth wiles to attract him, and bring him into her net. Lottie, who believed in love, and who believed in womanhood, with such a faith as perhaps girls only possess: what silent rage and horror filled her at this thought! She believed in womanhood, not so much in herself. For the sake of that abstraction, not for her own, she wanted to be wooed reverently, respected above all. A man, to be a perfect man, ought to look upon every woman as a princess of romance: not for her individual sake so much as for his sake, that he might fall short of no nobleness and perfection. This was Lottie's theory throughout. She would have Law reverence his sister, and tenderly care for her, because that would prove Law to be of the noblest kind of men. She wanted to be worshipped in order to prove triumphantly to herself that the man who did so was a heroic lover. This was how Rollo had caught her imagination, her deceived imagination, which put into Rollo's looks and words so much that was not really there. This simple yet superlative thread of romance ran through all her thoughts. She leaned back upon the carved oak of the stall, preoccupied, while the choristers chanted, thinking more of all this than of the service. And then, with a sudden pang, there came across her mind the thought of the descent that would be necessary from that white pedestal of her maidenhood, the sheltered and protected position of the girl at home, which alone seemed to be fit and right. She would have to descend from that, and gather up her spotless robes about her, and come out to encounter the storms of the world. All that had elevated her in her own conceit was going from her and what, oh what could he, or anyone, find afterwards in her? He would turn away most likely with a sigh or groan from a girl who could thus throw away her veil and her crown, and stand up and confront the world. Lottie seemed to see her downfall with the eyes of her visionary lover, and the anguish that brought with it crushed her very heart.

Did it ever occur to her that an alternative had been offered for her acceptance? Once, for a moment, she saw Purcell's melancholy face look

down upon her from the organ-loft, and gave him a kind, half-sad, halfamused momentary thought. Poor fellow! she could have cried for the pain she must have given him, and yet she could have laughed, though she was ashamed of the impulse. Poor boy! it must have been only a delusion; he would forget it; he would find somebody of his own class, she said to herself, uneasy to think she had troubled him, yet with the only half smile that circumstances had afforded her for days past. Captain Despard, had he known, would have thought Purcell's suit well worthy of consideration in the absence of a better; and the Signor, whom Lottie had made up her mind to address, darted fiery glances at her from the organ-loft, taking up his pupil's cause with heat and resentment; but she herself sailed serenely over the Purcell incident altogether, looking down upon it from supreme heights of superiority. It did not occur to her as a thing to be seriously thought of, much less in her confusion and anguish, as a reasonable way of escape. And thus the morning went on, the chanting and the reading, and all those outcries to God and appeals to His mercy which His creatures utter daily with so much calm. Did anybody mean it when they all burst forth, "God have mercy upon us, Christ have mercy upon us?" This cry woke Lottie, and her dreaming soul came back, and she held up her clasped hands in a momentary passion of entreaty. The sudden wildness of the cry in the midst of all that stately solemnity of praying caught her visionary soul. It was as if all the rest had missed His ear, all the music and the poetry, King David harping on his harp, and Handel with his blind face raised to heaven; and nothing was left but to snatch at the garments of the Master as He went away, not hearing, not looking, or appearing not to look and hear. This poor young soul in the midst of her self-questionings and struggles woke up to the passionate reality of that cry. "God have mercy upon us, Christ have mercy upon us!" and then it went away from her again in thunders of glorious music, in solemnity of well-known words, and she lost herself once more in her own thoughts.

Lottie withdrew timidly into the aisle when the service was over. She knew the Signor would pass that way, and it seemed to her that it would be easier to speak to him there than to go to his house, which was the only other alternative. But the Signor, when he came out, was encircled by a group of his pupils, and darted a vengeful, discouraging glance at her as he passed. He would not pause nor take any notice of the step she made towards him, the wistful look in her face. If he had seen it, it would have given him a certain pleasure to disappoint Lottie, for the Signor had a womanish element in him, and was hot and merciless in his partisanship. He cast a glance at her that might have slain her, that was as far from encouraging her as anything could be, and passed quickly by, taking no other notice. Thus her mission was fruitless; and it was the same in the afternoon when she went out by the north door, and made believe to be passing when the musician came out. To do him justice, he had no notion that she wanted him, but wondered a little

to find her a second time in his way. He was obliged, as it was outside the Abbey, to take off his hat to her; but he did so in the most grudging hasty way, and went on talking with his pupils, pretending to be doubly engaged and deeply interested in what the lads were saying. There was no chance then, short of going to his house, of carrying out her resolution for this day.

But in the evening, when all was still, Lottie, who had been sitting at home working and thinking till her heart was sick and her brain throbbing, put on her hat and went out in the dusk to get the air at the door. It was a lovely quiet night, the moon rising over the grey pin. nacles of the Abbey, marking out its great shadow upon the Dean's Walk, and the mignonette smelling sweet in all the little gardens. A few of the old Chevaliers were still about, breathing the sweetness of the evening like Lottie herself. Captain Temple, who was among them, came up to her with his old-fashioned fatherly gallantry as soon as he saw her. "Will you take a turn, my dear?" he said. He had no child, and she had never had, so to speak, any father, at least in this way. They went up and down the terrace pavement, and then they crossed the road to the Abbey, from which, though it was so late, the tones of the great organ were beginning to steal out upon the night. "Is this a ghost that is playing, or what can the Signor be thinking of?" Captain Temple said. Old Wykeham, that gruff old guardian of the sacred place, was standing with his keys in his hands at the south door. He had not his usual rusty gown, nor his velvet cap, being then in an unofficial capacity; but Wykeham would not have been Wykeham without his keys. And though he was gruff he knew to whom respect was due. "Yessir, there's something going on inside. One o' the Signor's fancies. He have got some friends inside, a playing his voluntaries to them. And if you like, Captain, I will let you in in a moment, sir." "Shall we go, my dear?" the old Captain said. And next moment they were in the great gloom of the Abbey, which was so different in its solemnity from the soft summer dark outside. There was a gleam of brilliant light in the organ-loft where the Signor was playing, which threw transverse rays out on either side into the darkness, showing vaguely the carved work of the canopies over the stalls, and the faded banners that hung over them. Down in the deep gloom of the choir below a few figures were dimly perceptible. Lottie and her kind old companion did not join these privileged listeners, They kept outside in the nave, where the moon, which had just climbed the height of the great windows, had suddenly burst in, throwing huge dimly coloured pictures of the painted glass upon the floor. Lottie, who was not so sensible as she might have been, preferred this partial light, notwithstanding the mystic charm of the darkness, which was somewhat awful to look in upon through the open door of the choir. She put her hand, a little tremulous, on the old Captain's arm, and stood and listened feeling all her troubles calmed. What was it that thus calmed her perturbed soul? She thought it was the awe of the place, the spell of