although her range of ideas was limited. Those vague yearnings of Naomi's for something wider and brighter than the narrow life of Combhollow answered to the sense of loss in his own mind. There was sympathy between them already, though this was but the second time of their meeting.

'I suppose you would hardly stay at Combhollow if you were a man, Miss Haggard?' said Oswald, after they had discussed the place and its dulness.

'O, no. If I were a man I should be a minister, and I would go and preach to the Cornish miners, as father did when he was a young man; or else I would be a missionary, and go to India.'

'Ah, you talked about that the other night.'

'Yes; I should like to teach those poor creatures-to turn them from their hideous gods, their human sacrifices, their cruelties. Why do we let them go on with such dreadful creeds ?'

'I fancy the work of conversion would be rather beyond us. A missionary may labour in a corner, set up his little schoolroom, and baptise a handful or so of dusky Christians, who will go back to Siva and the rest of them as soon as his back is turned; but to turn all India from her false idols is a project beyond man's dreams of the impossible. When Burke addressed the House of Commons on the evils of our government in India, the territory of the East India Company was larger than Russia and Turkey. We have extended our conquests since his day, and we are but a sprinkling among that vast population. I think you must put India out of your head, Miss Haggard. The Thugs would strangle you; or the Khoords would bury you up to your neck and sacrifice you to their gods; or the tigers would eat you.'

'Of course,' cried Jim. How few people ever go to India that don't get eaten by tigers in the long run! I never took up a magazine yet without seeing a picture of tiger-eating.'

They had arrived at the wilderness by this time-a corner of fern-tangle and sweet-smelling flowers, with masses of rough stone here and there amongst the greenery; which stonework had cost Jim much labour. There were some elder-trees leaning over from an adjoining orchard, and the spreading branches of a mulberry, which shaded one side of the small enclosure. There was a stone bench, which Jim had picked up from among the ruins of an old manorhouse; and in the middle of the wilderness, its rugged base choked with fern and primrose roots, there stood an old stone sun-dial, spoil from the same ruined mansion. That sun-dial, and the monkish-looking bench, gave an air of antiquity to the place. It was quite out of the world of Combhollow, as lonely as if it had been an oasis in a desert. One might have lived all one's life in the High-street, and never suspected the existence of Naomi's wilderness. A mild-faced sheep sometimes peeped at it through

an opening in the blackberry-hedge, perhaps wondering whether those ferns and flowers were edible; but except the sheep, there was rarely any sign of life in the adjoining orchard.

Oswald praised the spot, as in duty bound. It could not appear particularly beautiful to him after the picturesque wildness of Pentreath park and wood; but it had a quaint prettiness that was not without its charm. He sat down by Naomi on the broad old stone bench, and watched her thoughtfully and in silence for a little. She had taken her knitting out of her pocket, and the needles were flashing swiftly under her slender fingers. were brown, but slim and well shaped.

The hands

She was very handsome, Oswald thought-much handsomer than the Devonshire beauties, with their complexions of roses and cream. Her face had a noble look: the features boldly carved; the eyes deep and dark, with heavy lids such as he remembered seeing oftener in sculpture than in flesh; the mouth was full and firm; the chin a thought too square for feminine loveliness. If the face erred at all, it was that the girl was too like her father: -manly firmness rather than womanly softness prevailed. But Oswald could not see any blemish in this noble countenance. He was drawn to its owner with strongest sympathy. It was not love at first sight, but friendship, confidence, companionship, which drew him; and he had no thought of peril in this new influence. What peril could there be indeed for him, even if the fancy had been of a warmer tendency? He had no money to spend, but he was the master of his own heart. He might dispose of that as he pleased.

'Marry a dairy-maid if you like,' the Squire had once said to him, in his brutal fashion; but I shall expect you to keep her until I'm under the sod. An impoverished estate can't afford to recognise early marriages, unless they bring land or money along with them.'

They had been in the wilderness about half an hour, Jim exhibiting his chosen specimens, in pursuit of which he had, by his showing, more or less imperilled his life, hanging on to precipices like the samphire gatherer, scaling inaccessible hills, and losing himself in pathless woods inhabited by the reptile tribe. The sun had gone down behind the old tiled roofs and thatched gables of the High-street, and Joshua had left his quiet garden for the bustle and business of the shop.

'We'd better be going indoors, Jim,' said Naomi, rolling up her stocking. 'You've your sum to do for to-morrow.'

Oswald felt that he had no excuse for prolonging his visit. He walked back to the house with Naomi and her brother, but did not go indoors with them. There was a side gate opening into the street, and here he stopped to wish them good-evening.

You might as well stop to supper,' said Jim. It would be livelier if you stayed.'

'I think I have intruded too long already,' answered Oswald ceremoniously; and as Naomi did not second her brother's invitation, he shook hands with them both and went away.

Aunt Judith was standing at the house-door when they went in-a surprise for both, as it was her custom to be in the shop at this hour.

'I hope you've wasted enough time with your fine gentleman,' she said, with extra acidity.

'I wasn't wasting time, aunt; I had my knitting with me,' replied Naomi; 'and there was nothing for me to do indoors.' 'A pity there wasn't. Idling about the garden with a gentleman above you in station! wonder?'

What would your father say to that, I

'Father was with us part of the time,' said Naomi.

'Was he really? and what about the rest of the time when he wasn't with you? Fine carryings on indeed for a grocer's daughter! No good ever came of that kind of thing, Miss Naomi, I can

tell you.'

'No harm will ever come of it while I'm here,' cried Jim, his face crimson with anger.

'I'd knock down any man that said an As for the young Squire, he's a gentleman, and as soft-spoken as a girl.'

uncivil word to my sister.

'I never trust your soft-spoken people,' answered Judith; and at this juncture a shrill cry of Miss Haggard, wanted, please,' from the opened door at the back of the shop diverted the spinster's attention, and she ran off to measure calico or printed goods for an impatient matron.

Supper-time, prayers, and Scripture reading seemed a little duller than usual to Naomi that evening. The quiet monotony of life hung upon her heavily, like an actual burden. She had begun to ask herself of late whether existence was to go on always in the same measured round-eventless, unvarying; whether the portion which appeared satisfying and all-sufficient for aunt Judith was also to content her; whether those vague aspirings of the soul for something loftier and wider, which stirred in her breast like the wings of imprisoned birds, were to wear themselves out by their own restlessness, and know no fruition. To-night the question seemed to press itself upon her more closely than usual. O, how much better to be a female missionary-a teacher of little tawny heathens in some clearing of the jungle; or to visit fever-poisoned prisons, like Mrs. Fry! How much fairer any life in which there was peril, and with peril the reward of brave deeds, the hope of glory!

What use am I in this world?' she thought, on her knees in