correct or not we leave it for wiser heads than ours to determine) that a duel was a low, disreputable thing; and she had wound up her feelings to such a pitch of excitement, by thinking on the subject, that had not the Rector arrived when he did, we verily believe that she would have gone to bed in a strong fit of hysterics, and recalled our village surgeon.

Thanks to Mr. Smith-the very tones of whose voice breathed sympathy and affection-she contented herself with declaiming against Arnold, and lamenting Agnes's unhappy marriage. The Rector listened to her for some time, and at length, attempted to pacify her by observing that such things were only too common; and that he did not doubt but the whole affair would soon be forgotten by every one but the parties most interested in it, poor Mr. and Mrs. Arnold.' "You have done right in inviting our young friends to Clifton," he said. "It would be hard indeed if you were responsible for the consequences, the tragical event which has been brought about during their visit. It is better that our good should be followed by evil, than that we should do evil that good may come."

Mrs. Fleetwood made no reply. Perhaps she was thinking of her own foolish artifices, when, simply to gratify an idle curiosity, she roused the demon of suspicion in the mind of the unhappy Unbeliever-we cannot tell. As the Rector was forbidden to see Mrs. Arnold, he felt no inclination to remain at the Hall longer than his visit might be of some use to the family; and having now the satisfaction of seeing Mrs. Fleet

wood more composed, he returned to the Rectory.

Grateful for the happiness within his own heart and home, but sad at the recollection of the misery of the world without, he joined Mrs. Smith and the children at the tea table.

"Well Leonard, this is a most mysterious affair," said his wife, "what do you think about it now?"

Smith did not know what to think. "If," he said, "if any one could have told Mr. Arnold the truth before it was too late.”

"If Wallace did not believe Agnes, you don't suppose he would have believed you, Leonard," said Mrs. Smith. "It vexes me to think that she will trust him, notwithstanding all. I am sure she will believe he was actuated just in the impulse of passion."

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But Smith was not attending to his wife at this moment, but gazing steadily out of the window, as if he saw some wonder working there," '-even in his own quiet church-yard, which looked as if it would lay embracing its dead, in undisturbed security, until the resurrection morning.

"Poor girl!" added Mrs. Smith; "her heart is so full of love and trust that she will not doubt even an Unbeliever. Such false trust can do her no good; but I know, I shall not be able to destroy it."

Smith quickly turned his eyes from the window to his wife, "Destroy it not," he replied with emphasis, "for a blessing is in it." "Blessed are they, so far even as the things of this mortal life are concerned, who have not seen and yet have believed.-Yes, and they shall be

blessed, though they may learn at length the bitter truth that their confidence has been given to a broken reed; for their sorrow shall be gentle and salutary, as the evening dew when it descends upon the green earth,— unmingled with the tears of self-reproach and remorse. It is true that we must each of us learn, sooner or later, that the world is full of deception; and be made to feel in our intercourse with each other, how few there are whose honest open hearts will answer ours, as face answereth to face in a glass. But let not you or me be the first to initiate any young, and unsophisticated person into this mystery of iniquity. Let them trust, so long as they reasonably can. The unbeliever is often the dupe. Nay, I will go further and say of us all,—even those amongst us who have seen much of the world and its wickedness, that we lose little or nothing by the exercise of a generous confidence, but that with what

measure we mete, it is measured to us again.' Be this as it may, however, we may safely conclude that what we lose in this world is abundantly recompensed in that holy tone of feeling which flows from a heart at peace with itself and with heaven." Smith paused a moment, and then added, "I have a bright thought in my head. to-night, love, and must go to B- to put it into

execution."

Mrs. Smith did not yet understand what the bright design was, and it was no wonder therefore that she was inclined to expostulate. No sooner was it explained than she accommodatingly fell in with the wishes of the Rector, and forthwith desired the man,-I have no

better name for him, the same individual who united in himself the distinct offices of coachman, sexton, and parish clerk,—to saddle the horse, directly.

Mrs. Smith was a thoughtful woman; and no sooner had she given the servant his commission, and returned to the house, than,-out of sheer consideration for the man's curiosity, which she conjectured would be profoundly intense,-she went back to the stable, and added, that the Rector was going to B- to see his

old friend Mr. Nehemiah. At the mention of whose name the man smiled, and gratefully acknowledged Mrs. Smith's attention by a significant touch of his red wig; he having at the moment his head uncovered, except with the above mentioned patch of red raiment.

And now, the horse was led round to the front door; and the Rector mounted and trotted off on the Road to B- where we will proceed at once to meet him.

CHAPTER XII.

"This was he whom we had sometimes in derision, and a proverb of reproach."

WITHIN the suburbs of the town of Band not far from the spot where the tragical event of the morning had taken place, is situated a capacious brick house, which we have already referred to under the designation of the "Green Lion." It is a plain, although a substantial building,-its glittering red front relieved with an array of small windows, adorned with shabby white window curtains;-while below, the heavy red door is usually seen thrown open beneath a bunch of brazen grapes, which project forward, and half conceal a faded daub of some dingy animal, said to be designed for a Green Lion, and erected by way of sign. On the left side of the door, a large bay window, stuffed with glasses and drinking cups, belonging, we believe, to the traveller's room, protrudes itself on the observation with seeming significancy; while an expert ostler, short and jockey-like in figure, is commonly seen attending to one or other of his sleek charge in front of the building. It is a good house for accommodation, and many a tired traveller has passed a comfortable night beneath its friendly roof; though even at the close of the B market day, when all is bustle and excitement,-farmer's spring carts or covered wagons are rattling over the