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(Copyright.) LORD WALDEMAR'S HEIR. ') By MRS. HARRIET LEWIS, Author of "The Hampton Mystery," "Tho Bailiff's Scheme," "The Lady of Kildare," "Th, Old Life's Shadows, A Daring Game," kc., &c. CHAPTER V. IJONOR OLlIfT. U Upon the same day on which Grimrod, Lord Wamotr'i buiineas manager, returned to p Yorbbire from the Continent with Mrs. Watcbley and her young charge, and only a few! hoars before the Baron's formal recognition of) Miu Floyd as his granddaughter and the future: gracceosor to the Waldemar title and estates, itTepts were transpiring in another portion of Jsngiana, a narration of which is essential to the proper development of our story, and to them w, now invite the attention of the reader. In the neighbouring county of Lancashire, in an outakirt of the fine manufacturing town of Bolton-le-Moora, stood-and still stands-a pretty red-brick cottage of considerable pre- tensions, in the midst of a fine lawn and garden, ad with paddock and stable attached. The house in roomy, two storeys in height, with a red- slated roof and clustered chimneys, plentiful gables, pert dormer windows, a quaint oriel over the stone porch, one-storeyed bays opening upon » grassy terrace, and it is half-embowered in slinging vines, comprising ivies, Virginia creepers, and wisterias. This dwelling, known as Red House, had belonced to the family of Glint for a full gentury, descending from father to eldest son without a single break in the line of succession. The present owner was Captain Tom Glint, of Argonaut, plying between Liver- pool and Alexandria in Egypt. Captain Glint was an honest, upright, whole- souled man, a little past middle age, impulsive and generous, as seafaring men are apt to be. n. had sailed the Mediterranean for flve-and- thirty years, having begun his career in a humble j>0(ri,:>n, and had worked his way up to the pos )f commander, which office he had ivotts .xly filled for over twenty years. He knew avery port in the Mediterranean as well as he knew Liverpool, and he knew the sea far better Shan be knew the shore. Captain Glint was now absent upon a voyage to Alexandria. Some two years before the opening date of our story, the captain had married a handsome and ambitious widow, who, with her two children, the offspring of her first marriage, was now quartered at the Red House. Upon the March day on which we have chosen t.) present the Red House and its inmates to the reader, at a late hour of the afternoon, Mrs. Glint aatalone in her cosy drawing-room, with hl'Jr feet upon the fender, and a thoughtful frown upon her face. She was some forty years of age, and, as we itave said, still handsome. Her brown hair wu astreaked with grey, her complexion was well preserved," and her lips and cheeks were as blooming as a girl's. This bright bloom, how- aver, wat not a gift of nature, but was pur- chased in bottles at Madame Rachel's in L-ondon, or in Manchester, of some similar wandor. Her figure was still good, and she tlothod it in rich and fashionable attire, ri lighting in display. Her first husband had .1 uanelered her small fortune and his own, isiving her children penniless. During the period of her widowhood she had lived upon ¡,e sums of money reluctantly doled out to by her own and her late husband's rela- te-, and had looked about anxiously for a suc- .cn" r to her departed lord. Chance had thrown get: roue Captain Glint in her way, and she fend worked upon his sympathies and regularly 1; id siege to his heart, after carefully ascer- taining the amount of his income, the precise igure of his salary, and the exact state of his «meral finances. The widow's family was good, and she well knew the art of fascination. As might be expected, the unsuspecting fly walked -jto fibe spider's parlour, and was duly "gob- '•ad up." In other words, Mrs. Amelia Milner MTted Captain Tom Glint, and came to reign to the Bed House with her two children. Having so well provided for herself, it behoved 11 rs. Glint to provide for her offspring. Her 5:1 Wolsey Milner, a young man of twenty, [" d been articled to a Liverpool solicitor. Her iuughier Clarette, aged eighteen, resided at the };, House, and was treated by Captain Glint ",th great kindness and generosity, although it •vust be owned he scarcely liked her. "It is true the Captain is generous to Wolsey itid Clarette," mused Mrs. Glint, in pursuance the line of thought that had occupied her nlind for the past hour, "but they are only 'impendent upon him. He has insured his life >r my benefit, thus providing well for me in ihn event of his death, but he will not leav a tvnny to my children. He has the Red Hon e, w ioh is freehold, and five thousand pounds in \bu bank at Liverpool, which he has saved up i-i/ing his long bachelor life, and these ar- to g" to that girl-a mere pauper, whom he pi< od up and educated and made a fine lady. He I "ld me that he had made a will constituting her his b.'J;r. and this will was made since our tiismage. It's a shame—a downright shame. The Captain makes the girl his idol. He never i.ved me half so much as he loves her. He idually loves the ground she steps on. If she'd "Jy disappoint his hopes in some way-if he ? mld only be made to think her unworthy-he might be induced to cast her off, and to con- stitute my children his heirs. But I do not lieve he would hear a word against her from Angel Gabriel himself, unless the proofs w,re overwhelming. Let me see. How can I rid of the girl, and clear the way for my children ? She knotted her brows over the difficult v oblem, and a scheming look appeared in her -For a little while her thoughts scarcely -d themselves in words. The firelight from .'ic glowing grate fell in a bright flood upon her dvass and upon her darken n; face. The light the short -moon seemed fading, as it sTrcamed palely in through the partings in the ;J. brocade curtains shading the windows. At length Mrs. Glint's thin lips compressed -•.airiselves in an expression of determination. had decided npon her course. She leant ?\>nvard and pulled fiercely at the tassel of he bell-cord that hung beside the chimney, and then sank hack in her chair in an expectant itude. The summons v.a- answered by the trim little i i eemaid, and Mrs. Glint said imperiously: "Tell Miss Honor I wish to see her imme- dvit«ly." The maid withdrew. Soon after a light step -4 heard in the hall, the door opened, and a z girl came into the room. The new-comor was known as Honor Glint. vibe had received her quaint name from the ain, whose mother had worthily borne it, it well befitted its present owaer. Honor Glint wris about seventeen years of :e. slender and graceful as a willow. She i-w very beautiful, with a tender, witching ■veiiness that was strangely winsome and sweet. r hair, full of kin'.is and waves,,was like pal. 'V! her c/niplexi"'i was very fair, and her at soul-lit eyes tvcr intensely black, "mid- eyes," tliar contrasted singularly wit! Vie rare golden tint ;f her hair. Her face wa. "iiiht and hank and ninny, and was in itself poem. Her beautv, in brief, was of a rare an- -■ jj-endid type, and her soul was in keep:tig wit. "Is that veu, Honor?" said i' Glint. -Jf-turning her head. i! i'ers mart am," replied Honor, in a h'W, ;f!'i voice. You i-ished to sef 1)," ? Yes. VV here is Clarette ? "I do ii, know, madam. She i- it or room at 'his hour." "Ah, yes: very wed. Pit, down v-here ce you. I want to have ;t serioo- 1. n ;t u. I told my dear husband u i.«, ) r r -n that I would tr ana a nwr t tumor, and you trui L (,W;1 1. ["1 mother to you sin •« ,v h -p: frot: '••t-irding-school six or ei-jot -u'Utita agu. Yo. ave been home since last vi dsuiiiincr, in faft. ,-few old are you, IL õ\(or ?" The young girl «av down upon a 1-w elm:" •h« corner o( the hearth, jlnt 0111. "f flu- f the fire, and in the pale light stream en the curtains, as she replied "1 am about seventeen, s :-idani. you don't know .-xactiy > said Mrs. illint, who, however. w:»s acquainted vith the young girl7, history. Honor replied in tha ne^iive. 'At any rate, yon :,(" ,t," said Mrs. Hint, in a calculating i -f your age, nan j young weiutQ wrv (,?.r!1L?Ä \hV, jlej) as governesses, t.v.-hers. asid so on. Do yc never think of your future ? The girl's fair and her b: black eyes opened yet more widely in surprise but she answi red 'respectfully • "I used to dream of being papa's ho-uekeepei some day, but of course ho will not need me keep hou-e for him now. But he needs .me in many ways, madam, and he often says ht isould not sp;:re me." "Papa! "l sneered Mrs. Glint. "I hate tin word from your lip?. "Papa! Tom Glint is no your father, and you should not call him so." 1 He taught me to call him papa 'n my earlv childhood," said JInnor quieth- "and I "cannot relinquish the liabit except i. ,;is c,niiii-,ii-,(-i. Jlarette calls him so." Clarette is no criterion for you!" inter- rupted Mr", Glint harshly. "Clarett* is hi: jtep-daughter, and has an actual ri; to call aim father. B it you—who nre vou ? "I I don t know," said the girl, her voice quivering. Ko, you don't know, and no one else knows. Ion are a nameless foundling, with nu -!aim even to your name of Honor Glint. If the Captain had not been so foolish and soft- headed, as well as soft-hearted, he would have -cut you to some orphan asylum years and years ago. His prodigality will prove his ruin. You needn't fhish your eyes at me, Honor Glint, nor let your temper shew itself! I am telling -on the truth. You are an object of Captain Glint's charity—that's all "I am more than that," cried Honor. "I tm an object of his love. He is great and good .nd tender, and I pray Heaven that I may live to reward niin for all his goodness tome—dear, dear papa "There it is again—' papa Is it so hard lor you to realise that you are not even his distant relative ? demanded Mrs. Glint, in a tone of irritation. "He picked you up on the island of Malta sixteen years ago, when you were a mere baby of a year old. He was master of a vessel then that ched at all the Medi- terranean ports for purposes of trade." Papa has told me all that many times," said Honor gently, as Mrs. Glint paused an instant to make a vigorous lunge at the fire with the imall steel poker. "I dare say he has," exclaimed Mrs. Glint, "but I choose that you shall hear it again, ind from my lips. Captain Glint wat- walking through the streets of Valetta, in the part atled the Marina, and came down upon the quay, where his boat was waiting to take him to his ship, which lay out in the Great Har- bour at anchor, when a woman with a little child in her arms came up to lrim and addressed him in English. She was a common-looking person, but Captain Glint chose to think that the little child was of superior birth, because she was well dressed, and was very fair and dainty. Woman and child were both English. The woman begged a passage home to England in the Captain's ship. It was not a passenger vessel, but Captain Glint never had the heart to deny a woman's prayer, and he questioned her, and finally consented to bring her to England. "Heaven bless him breathed Honor softly, her fair face glowing with sudden tenderness Hid gratitude. "The woman told him," continued Mrs. Glint, regardless of the iiiterruption, "that her name was Margaret Cropsey, and that the child was her nursling, whom she was conveying to its friends in England. She said that she was just come from Trieste, where her mistress had died, and that she had faithfully promised her dying mistress, the child's mother, to convey the child to England, and to take her to some obdurate old relative, and implore him to. befriend her. The woman had paid her passage to Malta after the death of her mistress, with! the idea that Malta lay on her route home, and she could get passage cheaper from Valetta than from Trieste. But on arriving at Valetta her money had been stolen from her, or she had lost it, and she was penniless. More than that, although Captain Glint did not know it at the moment, she was stricken with fever. He took her on board with the child, and that was the worst day's work he ever did. If any man ever possessed a foolish heart in his burly, overgrown body, that man is Captain Tom Glint. He is the noblest, kindest, and most generous of men," the girl murmured softly, a world of love glowing in her tender, sombre eyes. "Such expressions would come better from my lips than yours, said Mrs. Glint severely. "But I must rehearse to you the whole of your history, as a prelude to something else I wish to say to you. The Captain set sail with his new passengers, and on the very next day Margaret Cropsey was raving in the delirium of fever.- On arriving at Marseilles, as she had grown worse instead of better, he procured, through the English Consul, her admission to a hospital, and came on to England without her. He could not bear to leave the English baby in a foreign land, and made a fool of himself by bringing her home with him. The child could run about and lisp a few words, but the Captain did not even know her name. The nurse had called her Daisy, but that's no name for a Christian child, and must have been la mere pet name. The Captain brought the little one to his own home, and put her in charge of his sister, who then kept house for him. As she had no name of her own, he gave her his mother's name of Honor Glint. His sister married a few years later, and went to Canada, and the Captain then put the child —yourself—at school. On his next voyage to the Mediterranean, he went to the hospital at Marseilles and inquired for Margaret Cropsey. He found that she had recovered from her illness and been discharged. Where she was gone, no one knew. My opinion is, that the woman had deliberately planned to rid herself of the child, and having accomplished that, was careful to disappear and leave no trace of herself. Honor's cheeks reddened with indignation. "It is not so," she exclaimed. "There was some fatality in the matter. Between the periods of Margaret Cropsey's entrance into the hospital and her recovery from fever the Consul was recalled to England and assigned a new post in South America. He died in the Brazils a year or two afterwards. It was the Consul who obtained Mrs. Cropsey's admission into the hospital, and not papa—a mistake that seems slight, and of no importance, but which is really of the greatest importance, for papa's name did not appear in the application, and only the Consul knew the names of papa and his ship. My theory of the case is this: Mrs. Cropsey was ill of the fever when she was taken on board the Wilberforce-papa's ship. The name of the vessel and the captain therefore made no impression upon her mind, and her subsequent illness completely blotted them from her brain. I think that when she recovered from her fever she found the Consul gone, and could get no clue to the name of the ship or the captain who had befriended her." "Why didn't she advertise, then ? demanded Mrs. Glint. "Why didn't she leave her address with the new Consul, and beg him to let her know if the captain came again to Marseilles ? She must have known that the captain would try to look her up, for the sake of the child. No, no, Honor; the woman was glad to abandon the child. I dare say the story of the dead mistress was all made up, to enlist sympathy. That class,of people are wonderfully artful. I've no doubt what- ever that you are Margaret Cropsey's own child, and that she is living somewhere at service, exulting in the thought that you have been brought up a lady. She may even know where you are. and all about you. The Captain has been finely imposed upon all these years. He has kept you at an expensive boarding school, and has dressed you extravagantly; and last autumn, despite my remonstrances, he took you on a trip with him to Alexandria, and would not allow even my Clarette to accompnny you. You had a maid, and travelled, I dare say, as v. lady of quality. Now, how much longer do you intend to subject him to such expense ? "Captain Glint adopted me as his daughter, and I owe him the duty of a daughter," said ffonor. "I must obey him and love him so long as I live." "That sonnds very fine, sneered Mrs. Glint, "but I understand what it menns. You will flatter Captain Glint so long as it pays. Let file tell you, nii.<a, that it was all very well before the Captain married, but things have changed since then. L- e Captain now would lie glad to be relieve,l of the burden of youi support. He is too generous and delicate tc tell you so, out he confidently expects you tc seek a situation as governess. You would be i i?t mercenary and g-t&#ping to expect more than you have already received from him. He has lavished large sums of money upon you,i and he now de-ires you to help yourself. It. Ha* prvpvr tQl bw W Mild JI.9.1 UPQQ anopted child when tv, no tfinuv oi till own; but he now has a family, jS'k. i moiie* is due to them. Don't aou comprehend Honor did not reply save by an inclire tiri of the head. She did not know, and Mrs. Glint did hnow, that the Captain had marriet Mrs. Milner more even upon lienor's aecomr than upon his own. The widow was well con- nected and went into good scciety. rlhi Captain had no lndv relative to take charge o! Honor when »h(, thould leave school anr! introduce her to tft. -orld, and he was obliged, by the nature of ifis profession to be away from home a large share of the time, and he could not leave his adopted daughter alone a1 the Red. House without a chaperon. lie be- thought that Clarette Milner would be a pleasant companion for Honor, and that Mrs. -Alilner- now Mrs. Glint-would chaperone the twu yourg girls, and love Honor next to her own daughter. It is scarcely necessary to say that he little comprehended the nature of the woman he had married, and little dreamt of the trouble his mage would bring to his darling. Honor's silencfe irritated Mrs. Glint. "If you had a proper share of delicacy," continued the Captain's wife, "you would yourself have proposed your withdrawal. The Captain's wife is nearer to him than his adopted daughter. Clarette is not fund of you, and I find your presence distasteful to me. It is not proper for you to remain hero, and I cannot tolerate your presence longer. I air, willing to befriend you, but the Captain cannot keep us both here, let me assure you of that." Honor's dainty head was uplifted proudly, as she answered Your objections to me, madam, can be stated to papa on his return. He will provide a new home for me At fresh expense! The Captain is chival- rous even to folly, and an appeal to him would result in his continuing to saddle him- self with the burden of your support. His salary is only four hundred pounds a year, and his entire income is not over eight hundred pounds. I know I seem severe te yon, but I am speaking the words the Captain is too delicate to express. I should think, you would desire to relieve him of the burden of your support. You have not half the claim upon him that Clarette has—in fact, you have not the shadow of a claim upon him whatever. He would love you all the more if he saw in you the desire to support yourself." But what can I do ? asked the girl, with a hunted expression on her beautiful face. "You can get a situation to teach in a school, or as governess ia a family," responded Mrs. Glint mercilessly. "You could advertise, or your teachers might find a situation for you." "I don't think I should like teaching," said Honor, in a trembling voice. "Papa has always told me that I am the same to him as his own daughter. I-I can't leave papa. And I am so young, and I have enjoyed my life so much. It will be hard to leave the Red House and all I love. Oh, madam, let me stay as your companion, as your hired maid even- „ as' "And set all the countryside to gossipping, and appeal continually to the Captain's affection for you ? No You must go from home, and the sooner the better. You at be away before the Captain returns. If you don't like to work, why don't you marry ? I—I never thought of marriage." Mrs. Glint laughed disagreeably. "Girls always say that," shemarked coldly. You have been introduced into society, and I have found that you attract a hundredfold the attention that is given to my modest little Clarette. Your gay manner, and your odd style of beauty-for of course you know you are beautiful, though in my eyes not to be com- pared to my Clarette—attract the gentlemen ,strangely. You have bad an offer or two lalready. You cast my Clarette completely into the shade, much to the poor child's mortifica- tion and my own. This I will not bear longer. You can marry any day you please. There is Mr. Wiltsie, of Crow Hall, who asked you to marry him. He is a good match. Clarette would have jumped at the offer, but you refused him. He is old and lame, and I did not like him," cried Honor impetuously. "He wants a wife to play whist with him, and to nurse his gouty foot. He won't do for me." Indeed Perhaps you look higher, miss ? Possibly you have raised your eyes to Captain Glipt's friend, Sir Hugh Tregaron, the Cornish baronet ? said Mrs. Glint, with a sneer. The girl's cheeks flushed hotly, and she averted her head. "You won't get him," said Mrs. Glint coarsely. The Tregarons are a proud race, and Sir Hugh would never marry a mere foundling —a nobody-an object of charity, who but for Captain Glint would have been in some paupei asylum. It's doubtful even if you can entrap your other admirer, who has been staying these three months at Lynshire Place. I refer to Mr. Moer-Mr. Darrel Moer. He is a nephew of Lord Waldemar, and will probably be the next Baron Waldemar. He told me so himself. He said that his lordship's son was probably dead, leaving no heirs. He is dead in love with you, and his love may conquer his pride. Why don't you marry him ? I-I don't love him." "Love him! I should hope not. You would not be modest if you did love a man to whom you are not even engaged. I hate that mawkish word. If you could only secure Mr. Moer and his prospective titie, the Captain would be very proud of you. But enough of this. You must provide yourself with a situation of some sort or marry someone immediately. I have coine to a de, i-ion about you at last. I give you three days to find yourself a new home. If you have not found one at the end of that period, I shall send you away from the Red House." Honor looked startled-even appalled. "Where will you send me ? she asked. "I 81 11 send you away as I would send a maid of w' om I had no longer need," replied Mrs. Gli..t pitilessly. "You can go where you choose. It is nothing to me." "I will go to an inn and wait for papa to come back." "And create a scandal and domestic dissen- sion, all to gratify your own selfishness and indolence! cried Mrs. Glint. "I don't think the Captain will like you the better for it. Besides, I shall have my version of the story to tell him, aId Clarette will bear me witness. Let the consequences be what they may, out of this house you go within three days. This is anal I Her cold eyes, her implacable countenance, the cruel expression of her compressed lips, all rold young Honor that an appeal to Mrs. Glint would be worse than useless. The girl rose up. pale and sorrowful, a defiant look in her dusky •yes, and without a word went out from the woman's presence. A moment later Mrs. Glint beheld her hurrying across the lawn in the gloaming. "She is going to walk off her excitement," she said to herself, with a complacent smile. "I've broken the ice at last, and there's no retreat from the step I've taken. The girl gorr. out of ihis house this week. It will go hard with me if I don't make my Clarette the heiress of Captain Glint in this girl's stead! CHAPTER VI. DARREL MOER AGAIN. Honor Glint hud caught up her fur jacket and coouettish little turban from the hall rack, ad hastily donned them, and had hurried oui irom the Red House with no definite object ii view, with only the instinct of a hunted creatun to hide itself. There was a choking sensatior in her throat, a keen, sharp pain in her heart, and a sudden and intolerable aching in hei brain. She fdlt fl longing to creep away int. some secluded place, and ti ere reflect upon tin abrupt change in her life, which had until nov been all sunshine. The air oi' the house seemet suddenly close and oppressive, and she abso li.tely panted for fresh air. She crossed the garden, and let herself nil; tlpaddock through a small gate in the wall The paddnck was usuallv occupied by hei shaggy pony.but he was rtow comfurta'W 'n the snug little stable, and the paddock "m-pty. She crossed the five or Mx acres o' -I)riiziging turf, and let herself out at an opposite !o;Uf' into a field which belonged to a largei neighbouring estate. A few minutes' furthe; brisk walk carried her beyond all view fron the Red House, and brought her to a rusti, stile between two fields. She mounted to the top of the stile, and sat down upon the little landing or platform. top of the stile, and sat down upon the little landing or platform. The spot was not specially romantic, but it had a certain rustic beauty, to be perceived by an eye trained to look for loveliness. On' both sides of the stile lav the bare a:id deserted UcUlf; ti.s vu wi&in and the houses and spiree of Bolton were close at nana. This was a favourite resort of young Honor Glint, and here she had spent many happy, thoughtful and dreamy hours. Her feet had turned to this place instinctively in her first sorrow. The light of day was still fading, but the twilight lingered. It was still early, and the night comes on late in the north of England. One could distinguish objects clearly at the distance of two fields' breadth. But Honor had no eyes now for her favourite sights, no ears for the two or three lonely birds that twittered on the ground near her. Her perch was airy, and the rude March wind was blowing, but she was well wrapped up, and did not heed the chill and bluster. The question that possessed her young soul, to the exclusion of all other thoughts, was the simple but all-important one—What should she do ? She was as proud and spirited as she was tender and sweet. She was as resolute as she was warm-hearted and high-souled. After the reve- lation she had received of Jirs. Glint's real character and sentiments towards her-elf,she had no desire to remain at the Red House, were her 9ta.v likelv to he neriviittpd "I would rather beg my bread from door to door," she said to herself, "than to live longer under the same r.of with that odious woman And yet, is she not partly right ? I have cost papa large sums of money-dear, generous papa-and ought I not now to maintain myself ? I can no longer live at the Red House with Mrs. Glint, and I cannot put papa to the expense of maintaining me elsewhere. While I am here, I am a bone of contention. Papa will have to side with me or with Mrs. Glint, and in either case there will be much misery to him and to me. I want to do what is right. What is right ? She looked up at the grey sky as if seeking here an answer. She bad been well named. She was the soul of honour, with a refined and exalted sense of right. She calmed her turbulent soul, and thought the matter over in all its bearings. She loved Captain Glint even more tenderly than if he had been her own father, and she revered him, and desired in all things his happiness above her own. He was satisfied with his wife, who had been able to keep from him a know- ledge of the perversion of her moral nature, and Honor shrank from creating dissension [between husband and wife. She knew him so [well that she did not doubt he would exjjel his wife and her offspring from the Red House before he would allow Mrs. Glint to expel her. She knew also that Captain Glint would not permit her to earn her own living, were she to ask his content.. It seems to me," she said at last, that I ought to do nothing without papa's consent. But then, if I remain at some inn until he comes back, people will gossip, and he will hardly like that. I cannot stay at home. I must go back to my Southport school, and my old teachers will advice me. But it will come to this at last—I must become a governess. I have been too long a dependant upon dear papa. It is time I went to work for myself." The girl's face grew calm, and the dusky eyes glowed with high resolve. She saw her way now clearly, but it was to a life of self- abnegation and toil, very difficult for one so' young and delicately nurtured; but she was ready to walk in it. She looked up at the sky, and sat absorbed in a trance-like silence, so for- getful of her surroundings that she did not heed nor bear the quick, light tread of a man who was approaching across the field behind her. He came nearer, recognising the slim figure from afar off, and quickening his speed as he approached her. This man was Darrel Moer. He had changed little in appearance since his first introduction to the reader, upon that night, eighteen years before, when Wallace Floyd had brought home the daughter of his father's enemy as his wife, and had been cast forth, with his father's curse. He had changed still less in heart since that memorable period when he had treacherously counselled young Floyd to marry Janet Arlyn, promising him that he would soften the Squire's wrath. He had instead fanned its flame, and ingratiated himself with the Squire at young Floyd's expense. He was now some eight-and-thirty years of age, and looked ten years younger. His hair was black and glossy; he wore a curling beard; and his Italian eyes were soft and velvety in their expression. He was very handsome, and possessed an air of elegance that sat well upon him. He was a drswing-room favourite, and it was singular that ho had not yet married. Lord Waldemar bad expressed the opinion that Darrel Moer was waiting to come into the Waldemar title, when he could make a better matoh. Be that as it may, Moer was as suscep- tible as fickle, and had had a score of loves during the past eighteen years, but none of these loves had been strong enough to urge him into marriage." He was wont to compare himself to the butterfly that flits from flower to flower, and he often said he intended to marry at some future day, but he had not yet made his choice. For three months Darrel Moer had been staying for the larger share of the time with a bachelor friend, the owner of Lynshire Place, a country seat in the neighbourhood. He was thcroughly infatuated with Honor Glint, and his love for her struggled with his ambition to ally himself with rank and wealth. He gained the stile unheard by the young ?;irl, but when h$placed his foot upon the owest step of the ladder Honor started and turned her head. She recognised him, and bowed coldly, making a movement to arise. °?'t get up, I entreat, Miss Glint," said Moer deprecatingly. "I beg pardon for my intrusion, but I saw you from the road yonder, and ventured to approach you. If you rise, I shall go at once." Regardless of this threatening, Honor rose quietly and descended to the ground. "You will excuse me, Mr. Moer," she said gracefully, "but I have already stayed late. Papa does not like me to be out after dusk?" 4 Your papa, whom you quote so often, and whose slightest wishes are your law, must be a wonderful man," said Darrel Moer, smiling. "I am unhappy not to have met him. You told me, I believe—ah, no, it was Mrs. Glint who told me—that the Captain is not your own father. You might belong to the blood royal, Miss Glint-you have that half-haughty, half- gracious and wholly charming air seen in those born to an elevated position." Honor did not reply save by a smile, and moved slowly away from the stile. Darrel Moer walked beside her, keeping pace with her. Something in the calm sweetness of her pure, high-bred face impressed him. Her rare love- liness had never seemed to him so splendid and alluring. His soul thrilled with a passionate love for her, such as he had never felt for any oiner woman. "How beautiful you are I he said involun- tarily. "Your black eyes set in your fair, pale face, and your pale golden hair, form a singular and striking contrast which I have seldom seen. By the way, the conjunction of black eyes and yellow hair is a peculiarity of the Waldemar family. My cousin, Lord Waldemar's son, had hair and eyes like yours, and that is the reason, I dare say, why you remind me of him. B no face ever fully resembled yours, Honofl There is no being in all the world to be com pared to you." Honor shrank within herself a little, and moved on more quickly. Her evident disrelish for his compliments only quickened the ardour of Darrel Moer's love for ner. "Honor," he said, in a quick, passionate voice, "hear me. I love you. I cannot live without you. Your voice is music in my ears; your face is glorious in my eyes. You are all I ask in life. My lot will be a brilliant one. There's not a grain of doubt that my cousin died years ago childless, and I shall be the next Lord Waldemar. My wife will be a lady of rank, with almost unlimited wealth at her command, and her life may be one round of pleasure. But I know your aspirations, ani that you will find your highest happiness in caring for the poor, founding schools and asylums, and doing good. I offer you the opportunity to carry out all these congeIJw, schemes, and 1 will watch over you and love you always..Honor, will you be my wife ? The girl's heart seemed almost to stand still at that moment. The warmth of Darrel Moer's declaration aroused her gratitude, but she did not love him. And, unknown as yet to herself, she did love another-that very Sir Hugh Tregaron, the young Cornish baronet, to whom Mrs. Glint had alluded. "You do not speak,' cried Darrel Moer. "You cannot intend to reject me? 0 Honor, my very life depends upon you I Do not turn me away." They had crossed the fields by tlus tQ, and were at the gale opening into tne pauaocK. xnr darkness had fallen. Lights gleamed from th, uncurtained windows of the Red House, am. the sound of the piano under Miss Milner fingers came out to them in faint, discordant notes. Honor can.- to a halt, her hand upon the gate. She remembered that she was soon to in driven forth from under the roof that had always sheltered her, and she dreaded the home lessness that threatened her. Darrel Moer we. by no means the hero of her girlish dream but she liked him at least, and he promised i c not only a safe refuge from impending sorrow, but the gratification of all her wishes. Av his wife she mie:ht do much good, and-si),- need not be herself unhappy. "You are very kind, Mr. Moer," she said, her slender fingers tightening their hold upon the gate. "I appreciate your kindness to me, and I thank you. But I do not love you." "That will come in time, I hope," said her suitor brightly. "I will win your love, if you will give me a right to try. I have stared here for three months for love of you. I shall have to go to Yorkshire soon to visit my uncle. Become my wife before 1 go. Honor." "Mrs. Glint says that 1 must leave the Red House within three days, Mr. Moer," said Honor unsteadily. "I ought to support myself instead of Jiving a life of dependence. I am only a poor girl, without money, and almost without friends, since papa is not here. I am no fitting mate for you." "Let me judge of that," said Darrel Moer tenderly. "I shall be proud to take you just as you are, for in so taking you I shall wed the most beautiful girl in the kingdom, and beauty like yours is a royal dowry. Honor, I will not let you go until you accept me as your future husband. You are too generous—I must think-it is all so sudden "Yes; but you must have long known that I love you. Lot us cheat Mrs. Glint of the malicious pleasure she expects to derive from your expulsion from the Red House. Become my wife to-morrow morning, Honor. I will get a special licence, and we will be legally wedded before to-morrow noon." I—I cannot promise. It is so soon, Mr. Moer." "We will keep it secret until I shall have visited my uncle and broken the news to him," said Darrel Moer, with a sudden apprehension of Lord Waldemar's wrath when his lordship should discover that his nephew had wedded a "nobody." "We will be married very quietly, and I will then go to my uncle with the news. May I get the licence, Honor ? "I cannot decide to-night that I will marry you, Mr. Moer," said Honor. "1 will think over the matter, and let you know in the morning. Give me but tlxese few hours' grace." "You shall have them," replied Moer gal- lantly. "Meet me at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning at the nearest corner of Ivy Lane. It's a lonely spot, but near to the church in which, if you accept me, we will be married. I will be at the spot with my valet. Bring your maid with you. We shall need the pair as witnesses, if you decide to marry me. I will have the licence in my pocket, Honor. You see how strongly I count upon your acceptance of me. "I will be there at the hour appointed," said Hcfcor, "and will then give you my answer. But I cannot promise that it shall be an affirmative. But, whether we become husband and wife or not, I trust that we shall remain friends. I must go now." She opened the gate as she concluded. Darrel Moer caught up one of her hands and pressed it to his lips. Then he ardently pressed upon her his suit, imploring her to marry him, and telling her how he loved her. Honor broke from him at last, said a grave good-night, and crossed the paddock alone in the gloom and went into the lighted doorway of the Red House; and Darrel Moer, standing where she had left him, looked after her and smiled as he pulled his long curling beard, and said to himself: "Poor Iktle girl That cat of a Mrs. Glint means to drive her out to shift for herself, does she ? She is between two fires, and I am ou-re to win her. She'll meet me at Ivy Lane to-morrow morning at eloveti o'clock, her maid with her, and falter out a pretty Yes, and I'll tak? her to the church, and she will be trans- formed into Mrs. Darrel Moer, and I shall he a Benedict at last. I'll get the liconce as early as possible. I suppose I'm throwing myself away after a fashion-been through a whole forest, to pick up a stick without foliage at last-but then, if she hasn't rank or wealth, she has beauty, and such beauty as does not shine upon one more than once in a lifetime. She'll star it dmring the season she'll be the standing toast. How the fellows will envy me, and I shall have money enough for us both! The pressure is so strong upon her, she's bound to yield. She's as sure to be my wife to-morrow as the sun is sure to rise 1 (To be continued.)