But they had now arrived at the gate leading through the farmyard to the back premises of Todlaw Mains, at which place the lovers always parted. On the present occasion, they lingered a minute. Robin whispered something: If he got the place, wad she' The rest of the sentence was almost inaudible; but Jessie seemed to understand it. She answered in a tone equally inaudible, but which seemed equally comprehensible and satisfactory. Robin for a second pressed her to his heart, which beat tumultuously with joy and hope. Then he watched her figure as it vanished among the stacks. 'O Jessie-my ain Jessie! May the Lord bless her dear heart! sae bonny and sae gude,' he whispered softly

and fervently.

III.

Jessie was kindly welcomed back by her mistress and the young ladies: they had missed her much. The house looked quite dirty and untidy, and not like itself; and as for the bedroom stairs, they were not fit to be seen. Jessie, in a fit of good-humour, for her heart was dancing with joy, slipped on her working-dress, and washed them down that very night, and by twelve o'clock next day the house had assumed its ordinary aspect of cheerful, shining tidiness. And then Miss Ann, who was Jessie's principal friend among the young ladies, and to whom the latter was in the habit of imparting various confidences, came up to the upper lobby, where Jessie was dusting the walls, to have a gossip with her about the events of her visit to Ruthersholm. Jessie had a great deal to tell her young mistress this time. She described pathetically the death of the infant, and the sad condition of poor Helen Gray, whose touching, though too common history lost none of its interest by Jessie's simple, naïve style of narration. Miss Ann's feelings were interested. She ran to tell the tale to her mamma and sisters, eager to do something for Jessie's protégée.

Mrs Young was a sensible, rather clever woman, not deficient in kindness of heart, but very strict in her notions, exacting from her dependents, and apt to judge harshly of those whose cast of character differed from her own. Jessie was a great favourite with her. She had never had so active, cleanly, and 'biddable' a girl before. Though not so enthusiastic as her daughters, she was therefore quite willing to lend any aid in her power to Helen Gray, for Jessie's sake, and to promote the wellbeing of the former on her recovery, should she find, on inquiry, that she was a wellbehaved girl. She knew a lady in the same part of Ayrshire from which Helen said she came, and she would get her to make the necessary inquiries about the girl's character. When Mr Young came home for the evening, the tale was told to him likewise. Mr Young was a good-tempered, kind-hearted man, who, with the exception of the affairs which appertained to his farm, left the

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management of most matters to his wife, for whose abilities he entertained the greatest possible respect. Jessie was a prodigious favourite with him, not so much because of the various good qualities which called forth his wife's commendation, as on account of her pleasant face, tidy figure, neat dress, and cheerful, civil manners. He now proposed sending some money instantly to the Gibsons for the benefit of the stranger; but this proposal was overruled by his wife. Jessie had already given a pound for the purpose, and the sum was quite ample.' Mrs Young did not approve of rewarding people for being generous; such a proceeding ran the risk of destroying the virtue it was intended to foster. No; let Jessie feel the sacrifice she had made. Helen's wellbeing and gratitude were her only suitable rewards. But I must now return to the invalid. Mrs Gibson attended her most assiduously; and Robin, for Jessie's sake, did all that lay in his power to serve her. At last their cares were rewarded. Helen was pronounced out of danger, and was able to sit up. Mrs Young, meanwhile, had made the promised inquiries of her Ayrshire friend. This lady had had some difficulty in finding any trace of the girl; but she had at last discovered, that she had resided some years in a village in the immediate neighbourhood of Kilmarnock, and, as she had said, gained a scanty livelihood by embroidering muslin. The neighbours knew little about her; but said she was a very quiet girl, who lived alone, and seemed to have no friends; that she mixed very little with the other people of the place, but was always very kind to any one in distress; and had always conducted herself in an irreproachable manner. It was believed that she came from Glasgow. This was not entirely satisfactory; but as it was good as far as it went, Mrs Young resolved to befriend the girl, provided she could give an account of her parentage and her previous history. For the purpose of making these inquiries, and also as an indulgence to herself, Jessie was one evening permitted to pay a visit at home. When she arrived, she found her protégée clothed in one of her own dresses, and seated in the wooden chair with the railings by the 'ingle neuk.' Jessie surveyed with considerable interest the appearance of her new friend.

Even in full health, Helen Gray could never have been pretty. She had a tall, thin, fragile figure, with a hollow chest and stooping shoulders. Her features, in general, were not good, and her mouth much too large. She had, however, a mild, smooth forehead, soft, though thin brown hair, and immense dark eyes, which lighted up her pale face with a wondrous lustre. Her expression altogether was gentle and melancholy. Her countenance became animated as Jessie entered, and seizing both the hands of the latter, she pressed them without speaking. Jessie then opened the subject of her message. Helen's eyes were full of tears as she answered: Jessie, I do not know how to thank you. I cannot even attempt it. I am glad to say, however, I can give the information your

of pink dye. She then set the basket in the cupboard, remarking the next morning that ten were boiled for breakfast; she resolved to count them again that night.

But before I proceed further with my narrative, I must explain that Helen Gray slept in a small room close by this cupboard, the door of which, as well as the door of her room, and all the bedrooms on that floor, opened upon a sort of long gallery or passage, which was separated from the staircase by a railing. At the further end of this railing were the stairs; and any one going thither from the cupboard, had to pass the doors of all the bedrooms on the way. Now, Helen's room being next to the cupboard, it would have been easier for her than for any other person to have secreted anything abstracted from it, as she was the only one who had at hand the means of concealment. All these circumstances strengthened in Mrs Young a suspicion that Helen was the thief -a suspicion which, from being dwelt upon, was in her mind now converted into a certainty.

As usual, Jessie, who was always on the watch for the basket being full, as there was then less chance of what she took being missed, had remarked that it had been replenished. As she had got leave to drink tea that evening with her mother, the occasion seemed altogether tempting. Accordingly, when she was up stairs making the beds, and all the family-with the exception of Miss Ann, who was a prisoner to a couch in her own room-were, she thought, at breakfast, she stole along the gallery to the cupboard, which was open, but with the key in the door. She had just abstracted halfa-dozen eggs and a handful of tea, carrying them in her apron, when she heard her mistress's step upon the stairs. For an instant, all seemed lost. She had not time to replace the eggs, and she knew not where to escape to. She trembled from head to foot; but it was only from the dread of detection. Another instant's hesitation, and she was discovered: her mistress would be in the gallery. Suddenly an idea struck her. Quick as thought, she darted into Helen's room. Even if Helen were there, she felt convinced she would save her. Helen, however, was not in the room; and Jessie, greatly relieved, was just beginning to breathe again, when she heard herself called by her mistress from Miss Ann's room. What was to be done with the eggs?

There was in the little chamber a small, old-fashioned chest of drawers, where Helen kept her scanty supply of clothes; but they were all locked. Jessie was almost at her wits' end. At last she descried an old worn-out trunk in the window, which served as a seat, and to keep odds-and-ends in. Into this trunk Jessie now put the eggs and the tea, then taking off her shoes, with a palpitating heart she glided along the passage, past Miss Ann's door to one of the rooms at the further end. Then, waiting till her mistress called again, she answered as if she had not heard the first time, and quickly obeyed the summons by appearing in Miss Ann's room. Helen was not there. Mrs Young inquired if Jessie

knew where she was, for she had not been with Miss Ann for half an hour. The latter had heard her about half an hour ago in the cupboard, and then in her own room.

In the cupboard!' cried Mrs Young. and see what she has been doing.'

'Go, find her, Jessie,

Jessie was half-way down stairs, in obedience to her mistress's order, when she met Helen. The latter said, that seeing Miss Ann was lying quiet, and not seeming to need anything, she had taken the opportunity to wash one or two collars, in her own room, for the other young ladies, who had desired her to do so, and that she had now been in the garden laying them out to dry. 'And what were you doing in the cupboard?' inquired Mrs Young.

Getting a piece of soap, ma'am, that Miss Mary said I should find there.' As Helen spoke, her face betrayed no sign of conscious guilt; but had its usual expression of calm sadness. For an instant-but an instant only-Mrs Young was staggered in her belief in Helen's guilt. 'What a consummate hypocrite the girl is!' was her next thought. As it was clear, then, that Helen had been once at the cupboard alone, while all the rest of the household were down stairs, Mrs Young determined not to put off counting the eggs till the night, but to do it as soon as Jessie's work was over, and she could find an excuse for sending both the servants down stairs. About noon, the desired opportunity occurred. Mrs Young counted the eggs; and, as she expected, found six wanting. Instantly she ordered the gig, and ringing for Jessie, told her she might accompany her to Ruthersholm, as she found that business unexpectedly obliged her to go thither immediately. She added: 'I find I cannot let you remain to drink tea with your mother; however, you shall go another night.' Jessie would have excused herself from accompanying her mistress, as she foresaw that in the bustle consequent on the departure of the latter, it would be impossible to get the eggs and the tea out of the trunk; but Mrs Young cut her short with: 'Your work is over, Jessie; and I would advise you to go, as I expect there may be more to do soon than any of us were looking for, and it may be long before I can spare you again. You may invite Robin Rae, however, to drink tea with you here to-morrow night. He is a respectable young man, and has shewn himself so in having chosen an industrious, well-conducted young woman for his wife.' Jessie had no excuse ready, so she was forced to signify her acquiescence with apparent gratitude. The idea, moreover, of inviting Robin on the morrow was almost irresistible. She said to herself: There wasna the least chance o' onybody looking into the trunk or she cam back.'

Immediately on arriving at Ruthersholm-having deposited Jessie by the way at her mother's-Mrs Young drove straight to the residence of the procurator-fiscal, or public prosecutor for the district. There she lodged an accusation against a person calling

Never

Leaving Mrs Young for the present to set on foot the system of espionage she meditated, I shall now proceed to unveil to my readers the true cause of Helen's increasing melancholy. The truth was, she had begun to discover the system of petty depredation which Jessie carried on. Helen Gray was a girl of the very highest moral principle as conscientious in trifles as in greater things. The smallest act of her existence was with her a matter of conscience. With affections less warm, but not less true or lasting than those of Jessie, and with far less natural industry and activity, Helen's more earnest convictions and higher and steadier principles supplied the comparative deficiency of both. had she felt herself in so painful a dilemma as now. Hitherto, it had always been clear to her how she ought to act; now, opposite duties, as well as opposite feelings, seemed to call her with peremptory and conflicting voices. She knew not what to do. She could not satisfy her conscience that it was right, even by mere silence and passiveness, to connive at robbing her mistress; but how could she repay the heavy debt of gratitude she owed to Jessie by denouncing her as a thief? It was this painful struggle going on in her mind, combined with distress on account of the latter, that oppressed her spirits with a melancholy such as she had never felt before, even in the severest distress. After much deliberation, she at last decided on remonstrating with Jessie herself. It was a terrible effort for a shy and reserved girl like Helen Gray to make; but she was nerved to it by the paramount obligations of conscience.

Violent was Jessie's indignation at poor Helen's kindly-meant remonstrance-all the more violent, perhaps, that a faint glimmer of its justice pierced through her darkened understanding. 'It set her weel to cast up to her that she wasna honest, her that awed her a' thing. If the mistress was pleased, what right had she to find faut? Her no honest! she wadna touch a penny that didna belong till her if she was starving.' So said Jessie, like many people in the world, healing the wound one sin inflicted on her conscience, by applying as an anodyne the idea, that she would not commit another. Poor Helen Gray felt that further remonstrance was vain. Her spirit was bowed down with the weight of an obligation to a person whom she could not respect, and with the sad alternative of either being an accomplice in defrauding her mistress, or the instrument of ruining and disgracing her benefactress. Oh, if she could only have been the means of reforming her! Fervent and eager were her prayers that some way of attaining this object might be presented. Helen felt that there was no desire so near her heart. Henceforth, it should be the grand aim of her existence. When Jessie's ruffled temper had regained its ordinary equanimity, she felt sorry she had reproached Helen Gray with the services she had rendered her, and testified her regret by many acts of kindness, which only plunged poor Helen into the deeper distress. From that day

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