until, as he neared the moors, the eversteepening ground compelled him to slacken his pace. He then saw, for the first time, that his horse was thoroughly exhausted. The poor creature's sides were streaming, his lungs heaving, every inch of spirit gone from him. James, full of compunction, dismounted; and led him some paces onward, to a small inn, which stood by the wayside. The bench at the door was occupied by a party of navvies; whom the landlord's little daughter was in the act of supplying with pipes, and mugs of beer. As James approached, she paused; and every eye was turned in the direction of the horse.

66

Sithee, Bill! He's loike to drop," exclaimed one of the men.

"He is indeed," said James; "Just call the ostler, will you? I must get him to the stable."

"Poor Yarrow-poor old fellow," he

murmured, bending over the horse's neck:

"Do

you wonder what possessed your master? I'm sure he wonders the same."

"Eh, but he is blown! Has he been a boltin' wi' ya, sir ?" inquired the ostler; to whom James was a stranger.

"No," said James, shortly: "He is knocked up, though, as you perceive. I must leave him here; and a servant will call for him to-morrow."

"It's a sin and a shame," muttered the ostler, as he led Yarrow away-“ a sin and a shame, ta roide a poor beast ta death, a this how. He wouldn't fancy it, hissen, o reckon!"

A quarter of an hour later, however, James appeared in the stable; carefully inspected the accommodations; anxiously examined the horse; gave minute orders for his comfort and tipped the ostler. That worthy person then softened; and subse

quently informed the navvies, that t' hoss had been a boltin', and t' Mester wor too high to own it. An' who could blame him?

Meanwhile, James had started upon his long homeward walk. The sun was setting when he reached Farnley; dinner was nearly over. He looked into the diningroom-gave some brief explanation—ran upstairs, three steps at a time-dressed hurriedly, and ran down again.

His social

duties should not suffer for the turmoil of his mind. He made himself agreeable to his future brother-in-law, and to Mr. Morris, who was also present; submitted to a long catechism from Cissy, concerning Gabrielle, Charlie Godfrey, and Lorton; advized Olivia upon some doubtful point in the family arrangements; asked Marian to sing, and listened with apparent interest, while she did so finally, after the ladies had retired,

smoked a cigar upon the terrace with the Admiral.

But right thankful was he, when the Admiral retired also, and when all was still for the night. He allowed Wilcox to fasten the bolts and bars, and to follow the rest of the world to bed. Then he went into the chapel, and let himself out again, through a door which opened upon the park. And he would not, he was resolved, return, until he had faced the worst; until he had penetrated the recesses of that mystery, his own heart; and had formed his resolutions for the future.

Among a clump of Scotch firs, stood an old-fashioned sun-dial, surrounded by three mossy steps. Here, towards midnight, James sat; prepared for the battle.

Long had that battle been warded off; long had he shrunk from any shadow of parting with the sweet visions which might -nay, would-be shattered in the fray.

But shrinking was over now.

The time was

come. He must lay his self-deceptions by, for ever and for ever.

First, then, a rigid self-analyzation: into the thick of which he boldly plunged.

Why this was. a leading question-why did the bare mention of one unimportant name, arouse in his breast, passions so stormy, so painful? Why did he hate Charlie Godfrey?

Not easily was this aspiring young philosopher brought to confess a weakness which he had hitherto imagined to have no part in his nature; or to be, at any rate, completely under his control. But he had undertaken the task of searching out the truth; and he would carry it through. He was jealous of Charlie Godfrey.

And why? Could that simple youth in any way bear comparison with himself? Could that boy so much as pretend to rival