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JUST --AS ' I AM." -.

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JUST --AS I AM." PIT I" MISS BRADDON. S^VHAMBT XXXV.-IL I DO NOT TODKI8«AKD 1 YOU, MORTON." I Encouraged by Sir Everard's kindness, and I itimulated by bints from Lady Frances, Loid 4 Seville apneared at Fairvievv not once but^ jnany 1 llm,es bef«»« i'is sister's long visit came to an end. 4 Pulcie received him graciously, as her El iProther, but the vainest of men could hardly have «f imagined himself peculiarly favoured or chorea ef s»ut from the herd, so evident was the girl s un- it "-Consciousness of his admiration, and calm in- #4^fforence to himself. She only recognised his JV- xistence as Fancy's brother, bhe livedasm wo-ld apart from his, takimr no interest in his w-Hscupationa and amusements. How could two i-fasin'a whose minds were so difierently formed ever be brought into tender or sympathetic rela- tions? Beville might adore Dulcie with a leve- r rent love, looking up to her as his bright i ar- ticular star, but how was Dulcie to let herself Ihk Sown to the level of ayoung man whose billiard _jj4,yiiig was his most intellectual accomplishment', r £ ftud who from October to April spent five days 3(f j>utof the seven following somebody's hounds and jighel for nothing higher or more noble in life than to have a pack of his own to folio v, "If I could but afford to hunt the country," lie jp,tid to his -;is; er ii,itii a *,I kdow they'd all la,5ike me for their M. F. H." m "Oi course they would, dear," answered *iii anees, "and if—if you could marry a nice girl Et th plenty of ready-money, you could tnlce the F next year, I know Sir James Prior is jfl lire! of them." There is only on girl I would give six- e,nco for> anc* sl)e wil1 Lever l1;iVe m(,t" sighed p eville. L dv Fiances began to think he was right, i-r a'cie, who had so loved Morton, never could or W -would stoon to the lo er level of an unintellectual I.- lover, Beville's good looks, Beville's good heart, ■went for nothing with p. girl of highly cultivated mind, to whom intellectual society was a neces- jitv, Lady Frances stayed at Fairview nearly live weeks, Sir Everard seeming always loath to Jet her go, and Dulcie clinging to her with ever increasing affection. She had done much to wiu the girl to temporary forpetfulnes* of her erief, jjbut the grief remained all the Siiffie, an abiding iac^, which no arts of Frances Grange could c:ire. Borrow had set a seal upon the fair young fac?, end had given a new character to Dulcic's girlish be uty. To the eye of Arthur Haldiniond that tpale and pensive face seemed the face of a martyr, anizi(l, to whom intellectual society was a neces- jitv, Lady Frances stayed at Fairview nearly live weeks, Sir Everard seeming always loath to Jet her go, and Dulcie clinging to her with ever increasing affection. She liai done much-to win the girl to temporary forpetfulnes* of her erief, jjbut the grief remained all the Siiffie, an abiding which no arts of Frances Grange could c;ire. Borrow had set a seal upon the fair young fac?, end had given a new character to Dulcic's girlish be uty. To the eye of Arthur Haldiniond that tpale and pensive face seemed the face of a martyr. j .He could just picture such a face, heavenly calm I -amidst the carnage of a Roman amphitheatre, a JL'he day came when Frances protested jthat she 'I .positively must go home. The dear, pntient 15 "Sheik had been shamefully neglected, and his ,'J daughter must not stay away from hiin another | :hour. f But if you suppose you are going to get rid of t tne altogether, Dulcie, you are vastly mistaken, protested Frances, as she kissed her friend, 1 shall ride or drive over to see you three or four i times a week, and I insist upon you driving those Underworked porpoises of yours to Blatchmardean •on the off days. "We are desperate paupers, but I «an give you a cup of tea, and if Sir Everard will Come with you Bon.etimes X shall be ever so ^l*Uy"ou know how little chance there is of that, !panny. He seldom leaves his study now except for a lonely walk in the shrubberies." SI I know be mopes horribly, and that is the <verv way to make a confirmed invalid. You ™htV rouse bin? out of his solitary habits Oulcie. He is so clever--SO superior to any one I -know. It is a shame that e should lead such a hermit's life. Certainly there ,ill kiraly anyone t -witliin twenty miles of Austhorpe fit to associate I With him, unless it be this Mr Haldi.i°n"» who §. rfieems tremendously clever." j "Yes, he is clever and earnest and good. I § *rish my dear father would make a friend of Mm. F Well perhaps he will in time, if he finds that jou like him and are interested in his work. And i how, goodbve, darling but remember it isn t because I am returning to the path of nhal duty 1 lhat you and I are to bfl parted. My life lience- | torward will oscillate betw^pu Blatclimaidean aud I ifairview." 4 The many-coloured month of IViO-Y was drawing ,1 lo a close by this time, Hawthorns whitened the i. Jeoods and edges, and filled the lanes iM^h l>er- I fume. All the gardens were golden with wall- It flowers, and all the woodlan-J glades were b.10 ftvitli wild hyacinths. The cuckoo had become a ■puisance, and theskylark monotonously melodious, | While the too industrious woodpecker creaked and lapped and screwed to a maddening extent in every hollow beach tree. The little rustic world Austhorpe was utterly beautiful in its glory of spring blossoms, shining under sunny skies and gently ruffled by softest east winds but perhaps the village children w ere any the happier for •.all this beauty, or enjoyed themselves at this free ianquet table Nature had,spread for them. For •.all this beauty, or enjoyed themselves at this free ianquet table Nature had,spread for them. For he grown-up people there was ever some cloud of jare that shadowed the vivid colour of the flowers knH i.kpnod the clorv of the sun. ¡Ø- 1LJI'fII Morton had slowly regained health and strength 1n body and mind. It had been a diflicall; and laborious recovery, attended by intense depres- sion of spirits. He came back to life reluctantly, »ike a man who felt that death would have been a bappy escape from a world of trouble. But youth end nature were stronger than the patient's will. The wild deltisions of a fevered brain gradually departed, and left the dreamer face to face with teru reality. Natural sleep refreshed the worn- I -nt frame the prolonged idleness of convalescence i*bilised the over-wrought mind, and before f tie rose-flushed hawthorn bloom had faded Afor- ton was able to pursue the usual tenor of his .ttiidiou. industrious life, During that weary period of recovery, Lizzie Hardmau had shared with Aunt Dora iu all the duties of nurse, attendant, and companion. Upon Lizzie, indeed, had fallen the greater part of the work, for Miss Blake's own health had suffered I from her anxiety about her nephew, and she was I tierself in need of care and rest. But Lizzie was I never tired. She read to Morton for hours, no ,natter how dry or heavy the book he wished to iave read to him. She wrote at his dictation, and f entered heart and soul into all his studies and I plans for the advantage of his fellow-men; was | able to discuss the most abstruse questions of political economy, and flung herself, with all a | "Woman's headlong enthusiasm, into every philan- £ thropic scheme. Her companionship, which I -Seemed more like the camaraderie of a young I 'brother student than the society of a girl, did • tmich to lighten the tedium of that slow conval- Tscence Then she was so staunch and faithful and although she never of her own accord talked i to Morton about Dulcie, she always frankly and | fully answered any questions which he chose to Never, since that afternoon when death seemed r eo near, and recovery so unlikely, had Morton expressed a wish to see Dulcie; but on more than One occasion had he questioned Lizzie about her. "Sir Everard and his daughter are still at Ay3" thorpe, I suppose?" he said, one morning, when Lizzie had laid down her book in order to give liim the cup of strong beef tea which was to be -administered with rigid precision at eleven o clocK #very morning, whether the patient liked it or not. x, "Yes, they are still here." *'Do you ever see her?" "I saw her yesterday coming away from the i afternoon service. The new curate has instituted a daily service at half-past four, you know. He going to make it jfive, I believe, but people « told him it would interfere with five o'clock tea, I ud would never be popular with the ladies, I hich form the chief part of a week-day congre* I ion." I see. And now they go to prayers first, and tea and scandal afterwards. How was Dulcie -•looking when you saw her ?" Pale and grave, and quiet." ^*Not ill, I hope?" "No, I do not know that she was looking ill; iut she looks older and graver than she used to »ok in happier days." Did you think she looked unhappy." "Yes, Morton. I will not tell you anything less than the truth. I am sure that she is very Jinhappy." _,T Poor child, I am very sorry for her. We have **&ch our burden to bear. What must be must Oe." He told his aunt one day when they were alone together that his engagement had been cancelled *t Sir Everard's desire. # "The man must be mad," exclaimed Dora Elake, impetuously. Ctn you, who have known him so long, who r«new him in my father's life-time, imagine no "reason he might have for desiring to break the Engagement ?" asked Morton, watchful of his Fount's countenance. r She remained silent for some moments, with a f ik of trouble iu her expressive face. | What reason could there be—what reason I ung from the past—which- did not exist when I engagement was made?" F He may have yielded weakly to his daughter's .sh for a time, till conscienoe awoke all at once f Mid urged him to forbid our marriage." Conscience ?" 4. Yeg, Aunt Dora, conscience! What but a -Conscientious scruple of some kind, based on a Euilty secret, could constrain him to break hig daughter's heart and mine? B<it; I am fiankful hi:n for having taken the initiative. If he had which forced rise^upon -as jDut; by my own act, have separated myseli i ^°r i!_er t How much harder for me to j.efui ■ to r fother to part us. I ought to, » '• r is the one honourable act of his f ^liss ^ke 0t understand y°u' Norton, faltered I you do, Aunt. Your pale cheek, your l^eaninw rne that you do understand my f tl'U. "yVi ,u have the light of the past to guide ,°u miiot- kn°w much that is hidden from me. | °«urtena y°u do-know that Sir Everard I L Mortnn1VUrciered my father." r ti°r,'ible w H°w °an you allege anything so ► v*,verarfi' c n that man's confession cleared Sir 01 r ever ?■' I ^'I'Peet^jThen in your mind he was the | Murderer until another confessed the say one word, Morton." > ulo\ve, J°U suspected—you knew—and yet you What.e to engage myself to Dulcie >t? -y Power had I to prevent that engage- ■Pk exv th^f°u ,)ad offered yourself to her before I -ft., er'8hed ??Q had 'given her your heart. I had ed other ideas, other hopes. The Whole slJieion« uP°n me as a surprise. As to my M?!'aPelI; of Sir Everard, they were very vacue I |! mere undetinable terror to me, i?1fes,,ionllardly dared own to myself..Vargas 6 L \rest and conviction set those horrible fears To Vargas's confession opened a gulf, as iny I hardly dared to look while Dulcie j • "You wife. Now- ] Rther of^u nofc try to bring disgrace upon the i r1.11' ^0 v &irl you love—for you do love her ( 1. fc?rettoth/n y°U had cea8ed to jf "all knoJto y°u but that which she is to all a lovely and amiable girl, it would I upon her by bringing: a. hideous accusation against I her ia-ttier. What evidence have you to sustain this frightful buspicion? None, or none of a tan- g'.ble natur "God only knows what I shall do," said Mor- 1 t^n. "I speak to you as I would spsak to no one I else, Aunt Dora; for I know tLat you share my I suspicions." f' nly because I knew that Everard Courtenay had been dti "rouged. You furce me to sneak of these things, Morion, to recall a past which were better buried and iol'jotten. You know how fondiy I loved your father, yet I cannot deny that lie dealt falsely and treaclierou^J with Sir Everard Courtenay. Be wise then, Morton. Leave this tad story of the past in the s'adow where it lies, and leave the pmishment of your father's murderer to the Great Avenger." Morton was silent. This charge of falsehood and treachery brought against his father by one who had so deeply loved him was a heavy blow to the son. He knew Dora Blake's utter truth- f dness, 1 er strong sense of justice and he knew that she would not bring such a charge as this against an idolised brother without undeniable evidence. Yet he thought, perhaps, to have been prepared for such a revela- tion. Could lie, at any moment, have supposed that groundless, unprovoked jealousy had made Sir Everatd turn assa sin? Only the belief in his friend's treachery, in a deep irreparable wrong, could have goaded a sane man to s"ch a crime. How far Sir Everard's belief in Walter Biake's guilt might have been justified by the facts, Morton had never asked himself until to-day. One image had ever been present in his mind, excluding every other consideration. The image of his murdered father, cut off in the prime and heyday of life. No more was ssil either by aunt or nephew; but the recollection of that conversation sank deePJ in the young man's mind, and gave a new colour to his thoughts. Had it not been for Lizzie Hardman he would in iall likelihood have relapsed into that state of utter apathy and depression which had been the beginning of his dangerous illness. The mind, brooding perpetually upon one gloomy theme, would have given way. But Lizzie would not allow the convalescent to be idle, She stimulated him in the pursuit of studies which were con- genial to his mind and heart. She so warmly adopted his favourite ideas, so interested herself in his dearest schemes, that she seemed to infuse new vigour and life into the old thoughts, and made the most Utopian plans appear practicable -tnd full of hope. She urged him to publish a pimiphlet \v on compulsory education, a subject which he had taken deeply to heart, and upon which he bad original and peculiar views. She offered to be his amanuensis, as lie was not yet strong enough to bear the fatigue of piuch penmanship. At first he was unwilling to inflict such a task upon her, and douhted his own ability to give free expression to his thoughts in dictation but Lizzie's interest in his work seemed so unaffected, her willingness to help was so sin- cere, that were it only to gratify her, he gave way, and the pamphlet was begun. First, crude ideas were roushly jotted down, then the theme rounded itself in the thinker's mind, and he began with a sentence worthy of Junius. Once begun the work was ea y. Morton lay on his sofa looking out at the lilacs and laburnums, the guelder roses and pink may, and dictating his thoughts in measured sylla- bles, while Lizzie, who was a neat and rapid pen. man, sat at her little table by. one of the windows, far enough from the thinker for him to be almost unconscious of her presence. Do you know, Lizzie, you are more like a sister to me than either of my sisters," Morton said one day. Lizzie was slow to acknowledge this compliment, "lain glad to be useful to you in any way," she said, "for I owe you and yours so much, that it is a happiness to be able to pay the veriest trifle —on account." "Don't be so horribly commercial, Lizzie. You owe us nothing, and need pay us nothing, I know you are Auntie's right hand, and that she Could not get on anyhow without you. But it was not your usefulness I was thinking about when I said you were like a sister to me. An amanuensis or a rC<uler can be got any day at so much an hour. so I am not going to be intensely grateful on that score. What I feel is your companionship, your p )wer of sharing and understanding all my ideas, your perfect sympathy." Tiley were sitting in the twilight after dinner in the drawing-room. Tha two sisters were on the lawn playing a tete-a-tete game of croquet. Aunt Dora was reading by a distant window. Lizzie bent over her work, her face quite hidden in the d m light. "What busy fingers," exclaimed Morton, "I don't think you know what idleness means." I hope before we are many months older you will be busy at Blackford electioneering," said Lizzie, with a laugh. vII a, you really think I ought to stand for B',ackfor(t to the first vacancy ?'' I am sure ;,fit, You are the very man the Blackford people ,\at to represent them. My cousin tells me that old Mr Tilney, the Liberal member, talks of giving up hIS seat. He suffers from chronic asthma, poo* an.^ }s ordered abroad every winter, so he .ught just as well resign his post to a man who cuu be useful to the 4. » Well, if Mr Tilney vacates his 8t^ I will try my luck, Lizzie. I would do as much that out of gratitude for all your goodness to me dui"'nS the last six weeks." CHAPTER XXXVI.-THE MAN CALLED TINKER. The time which Jane Barnard had appointed in her own mind for her return to America had come and gone, and she was still patiently drudging on in Mrs .Tebb's service, and was not one step nearer the end which she had set before herself. She wrote to her husband by every mail, and she wrote much more hopefully than she felt, lest he should lose patience and insist upon her immediate return. Her residence under Mr Jebb's roof had been so far barren of all result. The surgeon talked a great deal, and talked as freely before the Ameri- can nurse as if she had been deaf and dumb but there was no more substance in his talk by the domestic hearth than there had been in the coffee room at the Peacock. He had the air of knowing a great deal—of being able to unfold_ a terrible tale—were he inclined to do so, but his insinua- tions never came to a point. All his suggestions of a secret ended in nods, and shrugs, and lifted eyebrows, and- smothered signs, which, as Mr Tomplin said, might mean anything or nothing. Mrs Barnard was honestly fond of children, and she had attached herself to the youthful Jebbs, although they were by no means perfect specimens of juvenile humanity; yet as the weeks and tnonths dragged on she began to be weary of her exile, her service in a stranger's bou^e, and began to yearn for the sight of her own children. She had made up her mind to leave England before the end of May. She would obtain leave to see the prisoner at Portland before starting, know- ing but too well that this farewell interview would be verily the last, and that she would never see the poor old erring father again, and then she would go to her happy home on the other side of the sea, and confess that she had failed in her mission. If in' the days to come the story of her father's crime and punishment should be made a reproach against her children they must bear their burden as she had borne hers. Every life must have its shadow as well as its sunshine; and if this were a darker shadow than falls upon mo t lives it must be endured with patience and resignation. Jane Barnard told herself that she could do no more. She had fixed the day of her departure, and had given due notice to Mrs Jebb, who piteouBly be- wailed the Joss of one of the few good servants she had ever been: blessed with and now there re- mained but a week of her bondage in a strange land, and she was full of the thought of the hus- band and children at home, and the delight of seeing those dear faces after half a year's absence. Domestic life at the homestead had been un- usually smooth during Jane Barnard's period of service. Polly, the cook, was a good-natured, flighty, gossiping girl, who did all her work in tremendous spurts, and idled prodigiously be- tween whiles. With this Polly Mrs Jebb carried on a continual struggle, which in a woman of stern- er temper would have been actual warfare, but which with plain Mrs Jebb never rose above plaintive remonstrance and tearful complaint. But with Jane Barnard Mrs Jebb never com- plained, and Polly, the cook, declared that Jane managed her mistress. Jane was energetic and business like, met all the petty difficulties of a narrow domestic sphere with calm resolution and perfect temper, and brightened the surgeon's home by her hopeful spirit and never-ceasing industry. It's very hard that when I get a servant who suits me so well she should go to America," sighed Mrs Jebb. And now I have to look about me again, and Austhorpe servants are so bad." Mrs Jebb's looking about consisted generally in making her wants known to the butcher and the baker, and then waiting till Providence should send her some kind of servant, bad, good, or in* different, as the case might be. But if Mrs Jebb had reason to complain cf the shortcomings of female servants, Shafto, for bis part declared that cooks and servants were angelic beings as compared with that peat of society, the out-door man. He was perpetually at war with the man of all work who looked after his horse, cleaned carriage and harness, occasionally drove a gig, and employed his leisure hours in working in the shrubby untidy garden, given over for the the shrubby untidy garden, given over for the most part to gooseberry bushesnd cabbage stalks, which were not fair to look upon, but which were of some use in producing a nondescript vegetable known as'greens, This office in Mr Jebb's household had been filled and refilled many times aunng the surgeon's career, and was apt to be vacated suddenly with storm and tempest, the either a hopeless drunkard or f or perchance a feeble crea- tine who had never touched a horse till he took the situation, and for whom Mr Jebb's too well worked screws | manifested j their contempt by nearly kicking him to death on his first endeavour to valet them. Of late, however, Mr Jebb, like his wife, had been better off in this respect, fhe man who had the care of his stables knew his work and did it il True that he was generally in a maudlin ;f A„ epery night, and that his appearance was state e V y private wardrobe was better adapted punt and his pnVtha]i for a Luraan being. PHe if if ffla nn Mr .Tebb's livery coat and thrust could shuffle on f ancient top boots when his thin legs into a pair oi this required so to disguise oom he had some- handed on from groom ? 2 well-trained thing of the style aud bearing oi a 86" God knows wher9 the rran what he has been doiug all his life, said "but at some time or other he must have D a gentleman's service. He has the stamp P him even in his decay." No one knew where Tinker came from. J inKer was the name by which he insisted upon being known, yet everyone had a rooted idea that it was a feigned name. Charged with want of candour on this subject he argued the question in this W1"^fineteen years ago there was a hoss called Tinker won the Leger, wasn't there ?" he de- manded and the person addressed being usually more or less ignoraut was apt to reply in the dfirmative..9 If Very well, then," answered the groom. II If Finker was a good enough name for him it ought to be good enough for me, didn't it ?" whereupon to one felt able to gainsay him, and as Tinker he was generally accepted and received in that circle >f society in which he was privileged to move. JTq Va# ft /umUmtious penon. and h»<i atma* opinions upon some subjects, but of Vis owii antecedents he said never a word. He had turned up in the stable yard of the Peacock one market day, and had there addressed himself to Mr Jebb, as that gentleman was watching the harnessing of his horse by somewhat unskilled hands. He had heard somehow that Mr Jebb wanted a groom, and offered himself for the place. As to character, well, no, he couldn't give any, he knew no one in those parts. Mr Jebb hesitated. Experience had taught him that a character with a servant is very much like a warran y with a horse, inasmuch as both are worthless. He told the man to call upon him that evening? an(i his last groom having been violently ejected the iiijjht before, leaviug the stable-work on the surgeoti's hands, he took the Waif into his service on trial. to ifyou don't suit you must gd At the end of the week," he said, to which the man Calling him- self Tinker agreed. Tinker did suit, and Tinker stayed. He was' man of curiously exclusive habits, spending all his leisure in a wretched shed next the stable, which Mr Jebb called his harness room. Here in company with his boots and blacking brushes, a colony of empty bottles, and the well worn harness, Tinker devoted his evenings to the perusal of any old newspaper which ho could get hold of. He was not fend of company. When he drank, he drank in the re- tirement cf his o.\n den, and needed not the charm of good con.pany to give flavour to his liquor. The Three Sugar Loaves knew him not. Terhaps he shrank from exhibiting his tattered raiment in such a prosperous tavern. Perhaps he was by nature an,1 inclination a recluse. All went smoothly in the stable. The horses were better groomed than they had been since Mr Jebb had owned them the harness was brighter, the general turn out more creditable; and the surgeon conratnlated himself upon his or. n dis- crimination in having picked up such a servant, and upon his own courage in having taken him "ithout a character, when within a few days of Mrs Barnard's intended departure Mr Jebb made a discovery which brought an appalling alteration in Iiis feeiiijgs to,, ards TinL, The wine cellar at the Homestea J was not a stately vault, nor was it stocked with a valuable collection of- choice wines but poor and dilapi- dated as the cellar was, and small though its con- tents were, Mr Jebb kept the key of it himself, and guarded its treasures with peculiar care. He had a good supply of Bass. and a bin of Higliclere ale, bottled and laid down by himself. He had a dozen or so of port in cise of illness, three or four dozen of sherry to give his friends, and at the end of the cellar, in a little arched recess deep in the old brickwork, he had a snug little stock of spirits, including a dozen of a very particular Scotch whisky which had been sent as a present from a friend at Inver- ness. To make the security of this corner still more secure, Mr .Jebb had built up a barrier of beer in front of the shelf where the whisky re- posed,sothat ill the event of a burglarious intruder forcing his way into the stable the famous Scotch whisky would escape that intruder's attention. With a self-denial that approached the heroic, Mr Jebb had resolved to let the mellowing influence of time soften and improve the spirit before he converted it into toddy. "Well, keep it a year or two. my love," he told his wife. I am not a whisky drinker, and lean afford to wait. It is a nice thing to know one has such good stuff in one's cellar. One rainy afternoon in this last week of May, Mr Jebb returned from his duily round amongst outlying homesteads and distant villages, soaked to the skin, and with all the symptoms of influ- enza. He ordered a fire in the breakfast room, sat in his roomy arm chair shivering, though wood and coals blazed merrily in the big old- fashioned grate. "I'm chilled to the bone, "be explained, "and I don't think anything but a joram of hot spirits and water will Warm lile. Do you know, Emmie, my love, I've a deuced good mind to try that whisky." Why shouldn't you, dear ?" asked dutiful Mrs Jebb. I'm sure I would if I were you. Nobody has a better right to it. 1'1', ring for the kettle while you go to the cellar." Mr Jebb hesitated, and pulled bis whiskers thoughtfully. "I had made up my mind to keep that whiskey two years, and I haven't had it more than six mont: s. It seems weak to break into the dozen." "Not when it is a question of health, Shafto. I'm sure a good tumbler of strong toddy will cure that sliivering of yours." "It isn't the shivering only." said Jebb. "I feel such a depression—I should feel grateful to anyDouy who would blow my brains out." Oh, pray get the whiskey, Shafto. It's dread- ful to hear the father of a family talk so wildly," cried Mrs Jebb, alarmed. Her husband only wanted to be persuaded. He sighed. snuffled a little, felt in his pocket for his key, and went to the cellar. There were no underground cellars at the Home- stead. The repository in which Shafto kept his wine was on a level with the dining-room, kitchens, dairy, apple-room, and various offices. This part of the old farmhouse was roomy enough for a whole retinue of servants. The cellar was low and narrow and dark, a kind of dark passage, under a back staircase. Shafto had provided himself with a lighted candla as he came along, and he now penetrated the sacred vault, There was the neat wall of beer bottles, with their necks pointing downwards, a fortification in front of the whiskey. It was rather troublesome b o have to disturb them before the proper time, but- Mr Jebb felt that nothing less than toddy woulu subjugate an incipient influenza. He moved tliree or four of the bottles gingerly, and peered woulu subjugate an incipient influenza. He moved three or four of the bottles gingerly, and peered into the da '^J recess behind. "A blank, i>y lord." Where the re seals of the whiskey bottles should have ladde.o his eye, he beheld only darkness. He put '!l his hand and felt only emptiness. Then with h,uds that were tremulous with horror, he rapidly cleaT'^ out the range of beer bottles, and made himself zuster of the ruin behind. Seven of the twelve whiskey bottles" Tvere gone. And yet no burglar had invaded the houset nor had the key of the cellar been out of Mr Jebb's possession. He stood with the candlestick in his hand, staring into empty space, utterly at a loss to account for the disappearance of his treasure. Had Mrs Jebb a duplicate key to the cellar, and a secret craving fur ardent spirits? No, he could not so foully wrong the partner of his ■ struggles as to suspect her of such infamy. Was this American nurse a traitor ? Your confidential servant, a superior person, is often a smooth de- ceiver. (To be continued.)

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l!WWI=, ICARDIFF BOAIK]) OF…

---THE CARDIFF FOOTBALL CLUB.

[No title]