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It had not been a pleasant thing to live through the past month, with the horrible sword of ignominious failure suspended over her head by a thread all the time. Very much otherwise. But now her boldness and her ability seemed about to be rewarded. At last she was in sight of port, and to all appear

ance safe. And she did feel that she deserved some applause for the manner in which she had steered her bark, in a sea of no ordinary danger and difficulty.

Not that the future was all smooth water. Far from it. Margaret indulged herself in no such weak illusion. Her Frederick would be grievously disappointed, doubtless, when the first news that met him, on bringing his wife back to his native town, would be that he had married a beggar. She had a very strong conviction that her Frederick was about the last man in the world, to commit such a folly and indiscretion. And Margaret was by no means inclined to think the less well of him on that account. No doubt he would be greatly disappointed, thunderstruck! No doubt there would be unpleasantness. What else could be looked for? Was not all this miserable business calculated to produce unpleasantness of all kinds? Still, she would be a wife; and she flattered herself that she should know how to use that vantage-ground in such a manner as to make the position not too intolerable a one for her.

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that that would have been a vain hope. What a blessing was the foolish impatience, which would not let that fond fellow Frederick wait for his happiness any longer!

These were the meditations which occupied Margaret's mind during several of the hours of that last night in her uncle's house. The next morning, at breakfast, a new source of anxiety arose. As the doctor and his wife and niece were sitting at their morning meal, the doctor announced his intention of paying a visit, that day, to his living of Chewton in the moor.


It is absolutely necessary, my dear, though in truth it is a very great trouble. But in the interests of science, you know, I never spare myself."

: It was no use thinking of that, however, now! Sufficient for the day was the evil and the work thereof. What she had now to do was to step boldly forward on the path toward her object. Fate itself seemed helping her. What, what should she have done, had not the delays of the lawyers thus hap pily tired out Frederick's patience! She had been living in the hope of inducing Kate to keep the fatal secret a little longer! It seemed, however, to judge by her sister's words and manner, in this last interview,

"Nor others, Dr. Lindisfarn!" said Lady Sempronia.

"My dear, I am sorry to inconvenience you in any way, though I do not see how it should inconvenience you. It is indispensably necessary that I should verify the accuracy of certain statements and descriptions. I am come to a point at which I cannot get on without another personal inspection of the buildings and localities. Heaven knows I have no liking for the job personally. But when the accuracy and completeness of the work, on which so much depends, are concerned, I cannot hesitate. I was going to mention that I shall not be able to get home to dinner. If I could have gone early this morning, I might have done so. But I wished to be in my place at the morning service. I shall start directly afterward."

"You know best, Dr. Lindisfarn!" said his long-suffering wife, with a resigned sigh.

"We will not have the bore of a regular dinner to-day, my dear," said she to Margaret, as soon as the doctor had left the breakfast-room; 66 we will have a cutlet or something at luncheon, and then we shall enjoy our toast and tea.”

It was Lady Sempronia's thrifty habit to make the absence of her lord and master at least so far an advantage as to save a dinner by it.

But then it occurred to Margaret that if the ordinary routine of the day were thus altered, her aunt's after-dinner nap would probably share the fate of the dinner, or at least be pushed out of its usual place in the day's programme. And if so, it might very

well happen that it would be impossible for her to escape from Lady Sempronia at the right moment. Usually on such occasions as the present, the tea, thus promoted to the position of a meal, was served at seven o'clock. And it seemed likely that at six, the fateful hour fixed for Margaret's escape, her gently fretful ladyship would be awake and in the drawing-room waiting for the repast which such ladies love, and expecting her niece to keep her company.

During the whole forenoon Margaret was in a state of great anxiety, and was eagerly debating within herself the expediency of despatching Parsons with a note to Frederick informing him of the state of the case, and of the probable necessity of modifying their plans to meet the new circumstances.

It was past twelve o'clock, and she had just made up her mind that she would do this immediately after luncheon, when once again fortune stood her friend, and made any such step unnecessary. She was in her own room nervously looking over for the twentieth time every article of the costume she intended to travel in, when she was startled by a little tap at her door. Hurriedly shutting the

drawers in which she had laid out most of these in readiness, she told the applicant to come in. It was Lady Sempronia's maid, with,



Please, Miss Margaret, my lady bade me say that she is took so bad with her nerves that she will not be able to come down to luncheon. She hopes you will excuse her, and she would be glad to speak to you."

Margaret found her aunt in bed. The prominence with which the dangers to be feared from the growing importance of the doctor's monograph on Chewton Church had been brought before her prescient mind had, as usual, proved too great a trial for her enfeebled nervous system. She had, she declared, a racking headache,-feared she should become hysterical,-felt that her only chance was to keep herself absolutely quiet,-and should not leave her bed any more that day, even if she were able to do so on the mor


It was difficult for Margaret to keep the decently sorrowful face of sympathy which this communication required, so great a relief was it to her. Was it possible for anything to be better? Fortune herself seemed to have undertaken the task of taking all diffi

culties out of the way, and leaving the coast clear for her!

The remainder of the day passed very slowly with Margaret, but not altogether unhappily. She was nervous and excited, but full of hope and confidence. Twice she walked round the garden, and glanced sharply at the cavity in the wall near the little door into the lane, to satisfy herself that the key was there. She longed to take it up, and try it in the lock, but refrained. It was imprudent; and Margaret was a very prudent girl!

At last the feared yet wished-for hour came. At last it wanted only a quarter to six. The note to be given to Lady Sempronia when her ladyship's cup of tea was carried up to her, was all ready.

"DEAR AUNT," it said,

has reacted-less forcibly, no doubt, than on "The shock which has sent you to bed, your delicately sensitive nervous system-on me too. I have a violent headache, and am now going to bed. I have told Elizabeth to give you this when she takes you your tea, and not before, lest you might be getting a little sleep. I hope, dear aunt, that we may

both be better to-morrow.

"Your loving niece,

This was given to Lady Sempronia's maid with injunctions not to disturb her mistress till tea-time, then to carry her a cup of tea, and give her the note at the same time.

"I have a dreadful headache myself, Elizabeth," added the young lady; "I shall not stay up for tea, but go to my room at once. If I want you to undress me, I will ring, but do not disturb me unless I do; for if I can keep myself quiet and get to sleep, I would not be waked for the world. If it is late when I wake, I will manage to undress by myself.”

Then while the servant was going through the hall towards the kitchen, Margaret heavily and wearily dragged herself up half a dozen stairs toward her room. But as soon as ever the swing door which shut off the servants' part of the house had slammed to behind Elizabeth, she turned, and darting light of foot as an antelope, and swift as thought into the drawing-room, passed gently through the window, carefully shutting it after her, into the garden. Then tripping, with short-drawn breath and beating heart,

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along the dark garden-walk to the little door selves till once again there came the harsh
in the wall leading to the lane, she paused, rattle in the quarter bell's throat, prepara-
pressing her hand to her bosom, and intently tory to its clearly chimed ding-dong,-the
listening. But no sound broke the silence first quarter after six.
save the audible beating of her own heart. Margaret began to feel both physically
and morally very cold. A sickening sensa-
tion of fear crept over her. Yet there was
no other possible course to follow but still to
wait. And Margaret still waited, with a
rapidly gathering agony in her heart, a few
hours of which might be deemed a fair ex-
piation for many an ill-spent day.

She had not waited thus more than a few
minutes, however, before the quarter bell in
the neighboring cathedral tower, after a
strange sort of grating, jarring prelude, as
if clearing its voice before speaking, sung
out its clear ding-dong !—ding-dong!-ding
dong!-ding-dong!-Four quarters. It was
the full time then. Margaret had not been
sure whether it might not yet want a quarter
to the hour fixed. No! and in the next
instant the deeper bass of the hour bell on the other side of the wall, at the moment
tolled, one-two-three-four-five-six! she was leaving the house to come out into
Of course, she knew very well that the bell the garden, she would still have been as
was going to strike six. Yet it seemed to much at a loss to understand the meaning
her fancy as if that sixth stroke had a fate- of what she would have seen.
ful clinching power in it, which cast the die
of her fate, and made it impossible for her
to draw back.

The more Margaret reflected, the more inexplicable it seemed to her: And if she could have perceived what was taking place

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She listened still more intently than before, but heard nothing. Perhaps the carriage had already taken up its position on the other side of the wall; and perhaps Frederick was within a few inches of her on the other side of the door, afraid to give any audible sign of his presence, for fear that it might reach other ears beside hers.

After a few more minutes of intent listening, which seemed to be at least four times as many as they were, she decided that this must be the case, and she determined to open the door. There could be very little risk in doing so; for the lane was a lonely one, but little frequented by day, and still more certain to be undisturbed by night. She turned the key in the lock with the greatest precaution, starting at the little click it made just at the end of the operation, and cautiously opening the door a little, peered out into the darkness of the lane. She could see nothing! And yet she was sure she had counted the striking of the clock aright.

And then a sudden hot flush came over her; and she began to think of the retributive storm of indignation and reproach with which she would visit the delinquent for his unpunctuality as soon as he should arrive.

She all but closed the door, leaving barely a sufficient aperture for her to keep her anxious watch of the lane. And the intolerably tedious minutes slowly accumulated them

The phenomena which presented themselves on that side of the brick and mortar screen fell out in this wise.

At a little more than half-past five o'clock, Frederick, true to his engagements, was giving the last instructions to a well-fed postboy in the yard of the Lindisfarn Arms hostel and posting-house. These instructions were that he should remain in readiness himself, his chaise, and his pair of horses (for Frederick considered that four horses would only serve to attract attention in a manner that was not desirable; and that the notion that four horses can draw a light chaise over a short stage more quickly than two is a mere popular delusion, unless, indeed, the stage should be a specially hilly one), within the safe seclusion of the innyard till six o'clock,--that he should then quietly come out, and proceeding by a certain back way, such as most Old-World English cities are provided with, towards the turnpike at the Castle Head, as it was called, which was very near the embouchure of the lane behind the doctor's garden into the road, should so come on towards the little door from which Margaret was to emerge, telling anybody who might question him-if the questioner were one to whom it was necessary to reply at all-that he, the postboy, was going to carry Dr. Lindisfarn up to the Chase to dinner-a perfectly reasonable and satisfactory reply, inasmuch as the doctor when going to the Chase usually did get into his chaise at the

little garden-door, which, opening so near to | Then he had no beard, or any other visible or the Castle Head turnpike, saved him a considerable détour through the town.

Nothing could have been better arranged. Jonas Wyvill, the postboy,—he was a cousin, I fancy, of those Wyvills one of whom was a verger in the cathedral, and another a superannuated gamekeeper up at the Chase, and "boy" as he was perennially in professional posting parlance, had long since reached a very discreet age,—Jonas Wyvill had pocketed his retaining fee, perfectly comprehended his instructions, got into the saddle at six punctually, precisely as the cathedral clock-that same bell to which Margaret had listened so nervously-struck the quarters, and quietly proceeded towards the place of rendezvous.

traceable hair on his broad white face. Old Greg had lived, man and boy, with Mr. Fal coner as long and rather longer than he could remember anything. And it would have been difficult to imagine any command of the banker which Gregory would not have faithfully excuted, not exactly from affection for his master,-Greg Greatorex was not of a remarkably affectionate nature, but simply because it seemed to his intelligence, part of the natural, necessary, and inevitable nature of things that it should be so.


"Come, come away, sir, quick! this instant! Thank the Lord, I'm in time! panted the old man into Frederick's ear.

"Good God! Gregory, what do you mean? What are you come here for? Why, man, the governor's up to it," he whispered into the old clerk's ear.

Frederick, fond and faithful, was standing on the other side of the little door at the moment that his beloved was tripping across the garden towards it. In another minute they would have been in each other's arms, and in the next dashing along the road on their way to Scotland.

"I know! I know, sir. The governor has sent me here now. It is a good job I am in time. The old gentleman would have run here himself, only he knew I could come fastLest. I never saw him in such a way." “What's up now, then? What is it, in Heaven's name, Gregory?"

What could have interrupted so suddenly the course of true love which had run smoothly so very nearly to the point of pouring itself into the ocean of connubial felicity?

"You must ask your father that, sir. There was no time to tell anything;-it was just touch and go! But all the fat is in the fire some way or another; and if this run

What am I to do?"

Frederick was on the outside of the gardendoor, with his ear close to the panel of it. It wanted just one minute to six; when, in-away job had a' come off, you would have stead of the light step which he was straining been a ruined man, Mr. Frederick. I heard his ear to catch the sound of on the other side your father say so much.” of the wall, and which in another minute he "Good heavens ! would have heard, he became aware of a foot- whispered Frederick. fall of a very different character close to him in the lane. And the next instant he distinguished in the rapidly increasing darkness old Gregory Greatorex, his father's longtried, trusty, and confidential clerk.

Old Greg Greatorex was one of those men who look like over-grown and ill-grown boys all the days of their lives. Old Greg was nearly sixty years old, and as gray as a badger. But still his gaunt, shambling figure had the peculiar effect above mentioned. Perhaps it was mainly occasioned by the fact that his body was very short in proportion to his long, flute likelegs. They seemed—those "It don't much signify whether she does straggling, ill-shapen, knock-kneed, long or not, so far as I can understand," chuckled legs to be attached to his body rather after the fashion in which those of Punch's dramatis persona are arranged than according to the more usual method of nature's handiwork.

"Come away, sir, from here. Come to your father and hear all about it. Anyway, you may be quite sure there is to be no elopement to-night."

"And Margaret ?-the lady, Gregory? What in the world am I to do about the lady? She will be here in a minute, if she is not at this moment waiting on the other side of this door."

"Leave her to wait, sir; she will soon find out that something has put the job off." "She will never forgive me," sighed Frederick.

the old clerk. "But you can come and hear what your father has to tell you about it, and thank your stars that this business was put a stop to in time."

“But the chaise will be here in a minute, | old clerk to meet and turn back Jonas Wyvill Gregory. There! it is striking six now! and the chaise; Frederick to hasten to his The chaise was to come out from the Lindis- father's house in the Close, to learn the exfarn Arms as it struck six." planation of this most unexpected and unpleasant termination of the enterprise which had seemed on the eve of successful execution.

"I'll go and meet it, sir, and turn it back, while you go to your father. It would come up the back lane to the Castle Head, I suppose?"

He did for one instant think of seeing his Margaret, and telling her, as best he might, that some contretemps had frustrated their plan for to-night, instead of thus brutally leaving her to the agonies of suspense, and slowly-growing conviction that it was a hopeless disappointment. But Frederick was not a very brave man, and he stood in no little fear of his gentle Marguerite. It would not, it may be admitted, have been a pleasant interview; and perhaps braver men than Frederick Falconer might have hesitated about facing the lady in the moment of her legiti

They had withdrawn from the immediate vicinity of the door in the wall as the clock struck, but still spoke in whispers. Had Margaret opened the door a moment sooner than she did, she would have seen the two men, within a few paces of her. But they mate wrath. But it certainly was a cur's separated at the mouth of the little lane trick to sneak off and leave her as he did. some fifty yards from the doctor's garden- But que voulez-vous? Figs wont grow on door, as the last words were spoken,-the thistles.

"Yes, you will meet it in the lane. It is old Jonas Wyvill; you must tell him that it is put off for to-night."

"Or rather that it is not 'off' ; " said Greatorex, who had recovered breath enough for superfluous words by this time, and for a chuckle at his own wit.

we believe, in the press at the time of nis death, secured him a very high position as a clear and original thinker. He labored hard in the foundation of the colony of South Australia, to control the blind policy of a not very wise Government, and succeeded in his work. To the last, he impressed all who knew him with the calm and lucid character of his judgment, and attracted them with something of that perfectly simple dignity, that old English courtesy, that stately kindliness of manner, which appear to be becoming rarer and rarer in our bustling and familiar day.- Spectator.


We sincerely regret to record the death of Lieutenant-Colonel Robert Torrens, who died yesterday week (the 27th of May), in the eightyfourth year of his age. Colonel Torrens will be. remembered chiefly by his economical writings and his connection with the colonization of South Australia; but his career as an officer was not entirely without mark or incident. In 1811 he was promoted to the rank of Major for what was then generally called the "romantic defence of Anholt, an affair in which Captain Torrens repulsed a Danish force which outnumbered his little garrison by nearly ten to one. He was a warm advocate for the rights of the Roman Catholics in Ireland, and even refused the offer of a Government borough in 1811-an offer drawn forth by the ability of his essay on money and paper currency-rather than abandon their M. BARDOUX, of Poitiers, manufactures paper cause. He fought and gained a most expensive from wood-oak, pine, walnut, and chestnutcontest in Ipswich, in 1826, on the Roman Catho- and from vegetables without the addition of rags, lic side, only to be unseated upon petition, but and by his process, he states that a saving of not before he had made a speech on Ireland, from sixty to eighty per cent. is made in the cost which drew forth the warmest praise from Mr. of production. Mr. Carl Heinrich Roeckner of Huskisson, and has, in fact, proved prophetic. the Clapham road, has just taken out letColonel Torrens was in the House during several ters patent for "improvements in machinery Parliaments, first for Ashburton, then for Bol- and process for reducing wood to a fibrous ton, and his books on political economy, one of condition for the manufacture of paper-stuff which-a catechism of political economy-was, or pulp."

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