as they burnt down in their sockets.

She did not like to wake the sleeper, and stood for some time irresolute whether to stay or go away. The splendid appointments of a gentleman of fashion, belonging to a generation somewhat more magnificent than that which has succeeded it, were scattered carelessly about the room. The massive handle of his hunting-whip shone like pure gold, and the lash, which trailed along the oaken floor, was as white as a streak of snow. He had cut off the feet of his hunting-boots to make slippers, and thrown the tops aside. There they lay in the coal-scuttle, with their glittering silver spurs tossed all awry beside them. A gold watch, richly chased with a coronet and cipher in brilliants, and a massive chain, was on the mantel-piece, and it seemed to Madge as if these brilliants were drops of water. She tried noiselessly to wipe them off, and found that they were hard. Then she remembered that she had heard of diamonds, which were said to be of inestimable value, and she looked at them with a girl's curiosity, turning them in the light and marvelling at their flashes. She was very near to him now, but he did not wake. One of his feet rested on the fender; the other was flung over an arm of the chair, and its slipper had dropped off. She had never seen such small feet, and she noticed, with a woman's eye for finery, that the stockings on them were of white silk. Still he slept on, and she grew bolder. She went to the table to see what he had eaten, and found to her astonishment that the fried bacon was left untouched, and that he must have managed his eels with a fork, for the knives were all quite clean. Then she looked again to see if he were yet awake, but he slept on, and she became fascinated as she looked. He was very stately and handsome, with his scarlet coat and pearl grey waistcoat, and the blue silk neckerchief half untied about his neck. His long hair, black as a raven's wing, and worn in love-locks according to the fashion of the day, fell over a forehead white as ivory, and the rings on one of his hands, which drooped negligently beside him, glanced and sparkled like living things. The girl was spell-bound, and she could hear the beating of her own heart as she stood there, afraid to stay, afraid to go away, and by-and-by afraid to move.

If any observer, impressed with the theory of race, had been at the 'Chequers "inn that night, he would have been struck by a certain resemblance which might be traced between this village girl and the young huntsman. He was dark, and she was fair; but there was a likeness in their features the same short upper lip and almond-shaped purple eye; the same full, well-cut mouth and strong cheek, with a peculiar dimple on the chin, which was rather soft and weak in its outline. They had even the same tones in their voices, and the same tricks of movement. They had both the same small, haughty head, which they threw back at times in the same way; the same shapely hands and feet, the same nervous limbs. The finer generations of animals resemble each other in this way; why should not the finer generations of men and women? For, after all, their resemblance was only that which a noble work of art,

brought to the highest pitch of perfection, may bear to another work of art equally finished; and yet this young man and woman, who would have seemed to a sculptor as ideal types of a splendidly matched pair, were a peer of England and a poor peasant maid.

At length the sleeper stirred uneasily in his chair, as though some careless dream had disturbed him, and he woke abruptly.

"What, Madge, my girl!" said he, passing one of his jewelled hands over those bright eyes of his. "Why, what's o'clock? I am afraid I have kept you out of bed to an unconscionable hour.

I declare it is nearly midnight. Bring me a candle, my dear."

By Jove!

She did not understand what he said to her. Her only idea was to escape, and she hurried away trembling. But he followed her, and caught her by the hand. "Madge, Madge!" he said. "You little bolter, what is the matter?" And, for the first time, the stranger eyed Madge with some of that complacency which Grand Turks are accustomed to bestow on maidens whom they delight to honour, and which was imitated pretty successfully in their dealings with country chamber-maids by the young nobles of forty years ago.

She turned her eyes away from him at last, and felt ready to cry. He released her, and she felt vexed and ashamed of herself.

"Fetch me another candle, my dear," he said coolly, "and show me my bedroom. I must be up and away early."

She had never thought of that. She would have run a mile in the rain barefooted rather than return to him, yet she thought of his going away with a sharp pang at the heart.

The Stranger observed this, for indeed he had a sharp eye in all that concerned the weaknesses of the adverse sex towards himself. He smiled, not unflattered that he should have brought down an inn-maid at a glance, neither more nor less than a titled lady at Almack's. Then he drew her near to him composedly, glided his arm round her waist and said: "What a pretty girl you are, Madge! you must make the fortune of such a place as this. I give you my honour if I were a bumpkin I should be tippling stout downstairs all day so as to have it drawn by you." He laughed with a gallantry which would have transported a countess, lifted her chin with his forefinger, and pressed a light kiss on her cheek. She quivered from head to foot, disengaged herself from his embrace with a stifled cry, and fled.

CHAPTER IV.
DREAMS.

POOR girl! one of the many who have thought they could take care of themselves! What had she done that a whirlwind should sweep over her young life in this fashion? but for the matter of that, what has the wild rose-bud done, which has asked of God nothing but a little dew and a ray

of sunlight, and which the first gale blows torn and soiled into the clay ? Madge had that rough knowledge of right and wrong which may lurk inborn in those who have been never preached to and never taught. She would have defended herself against the rude courtship of ploughboys or the ambiguous jests of tipsy pedlars; but where was the training that could have steeled her against a being who was as unlike the other men she had ever seen as day is opposite to night-a being who had paralyzed her faculties as lightning might do, blinding all her perceptions of good and evil and leaving her no power of reflection or resistance? His voice was softer and sweeter than any woman's she had heard; his eyes were a magic in themselves; the practical arts of a wooer were so familiar to him that he could fill a poor girl's head with fancies as intoxicating as new-pressed wine. In struggles like these the conditions of the contest are not even. When Education is pitted against Ignorance, Craft against Simplicity, Strength against Weakness, heaven alone can help the fallen.

That night, when everybody else in the house slept, Madge crouched in the darkness near the empty grate of the kitchen. The wind moaned weirdly outside as if in pain; the windows creaked in their leaden frames and the falling of the rain continued, ceaseless, monotonous and hard. But Madge was absent from all present sights and sounds, and fell into a kind of trance, which was neither sleep nor waking. Why was it that for the first time in her life she now thought of her mother, and tried to recall an image she had never seen from out of the shadows that thickened round her? In the churchyard there were tombs and over the tombs grew flowers, and when the spring breezes gently stirred the waving trees, white blossoms fell in handfuls over the grassy mounds, whilst birds sang above as if nothing but joy and peace could inhabit the garden which old men called God's acre. And the parson said these graves were simply resting places-soft beds where the weary lay in quiet till Christ came and led them by the hand to a kingdom where there was no labour and no sorrow. She wondered whether her mother was an angel and talked about her with the other angels, all in pure robes and crowned with gold? If she could only see her mother once-for a single instant-she who had never known a mother, she could whisper to her-something! For God would believe her mother. If He was angry with her now He would know that angels can only speak the truth, and for her mother's sake He would take from her heart the load he had just put there, and which was crushing her-He alone knew how cruelly! Disjointed fragments of prayers came back to her recollection, prayers of which she had never before comprehended the meaning: "Our Father." "O God our Heavenly Father." God was something more than God then, and the punisher of sinners; he was Father! She staggered to her feet, stretched her hands in front of her and wailed: "Mawther, mawther! tell him it was none moy fault! He knows it wasn't "-then fell forward on her knees with her face against the ground and sobbed pitifully.

...

Hours passed, and she had crept again near the fender, with her

limbs numbed, her body trembling, and her fevered head resting on her curved arm. But the mists had somehow cleared. A soft music of bells rippled through summer air; there was a fragrance of roses; the bells sounded nearer; and birds soared chirping towards a sky so blue, bright, and warm! The church was before her; its doors stood open, and crowds were hurrying in, but they were not men and women. The graves seemed to have given up their sleepers, and spotless troops of angels, with the smiles of children, beckoned her to follow them to an altar shining with lights more than could be numbered. Then hymns uprose, first murmured, then slowly and sweetly swelling till they filled the church. Then other angels appeared with branches and lilies, which they strewed upon her path; and an unseen hand took hers and drew her to the altar where she had seen brides led, and where now awaited her with a beam of welcome the man who had fired her poor desolate soul with the passion of love. . . She would have flung herself in his arms, but something restrained her, and they knelt together-she pledging herself to be faithful and obedient to him; he vowing to love, honour, and guard her all his days. And the while the bells chimed merrily, the organ pealed its holiest notes; and she, looking at herself, saw that she was arrayed in white like the others, for God had clothed her in His garb of innocency.

How long she lay in that unconscious state, which is part death, part life, she could never guess; but during weeks and months afterwards she continued to start in her sleep, mingling the visions of this one fateful night with the indistinctly remembered reality. When she recovered her senses the darkness had faded. Two oblique rays of light were falling through the openings in the shutters; the wind had lulled, and the rain outside had ceased. A large cat, which had been prowling about in search of mice, started at her first movement and rushed away with a clatter over the coals in a corner, causing her to sit up on the ground terrified, and to utter a scream. But nobody heard her; and she pressed her hands to her aching forehead, to recollect where she was, and why she had come there. All she evoked was a dull throbbing at the temples; and she found her limbs cramped and racked with pain. Mechanically she rolled up a tress of her hair which had fallen loose over her shoulders, and incoherently repeated to herself snatches of the things she had dreamed, trying to sift them from the facts which had really happened. The effort was too much for her infant brain, unaccustomed to reason save on things actual and visible, and too weak to reflect much even on them. A stupefied and bewildered expression settled on her face; and there she remained sitting and hearkening tremulously to every sound, till she heard the first waggoner on the road draw up his team and shout for breakfast. It must have been nearly six o'clock in the morning then, for, upon the extreme edge of the horizon, towards the river, the autumn dawn broke dim and grey; and the waggoner complimented her for being afoot and about so early.

CHAPTER V.

MR. SHARPE.

Ir may have been some two hours after this, that is about eight o'clock, when there was a great commotion in the village. It was caused by the arrival of a four-horse coach, on which were seated five people; and such a coach and such people had seldom been seen in those parts before. It was a glittering painted thing with a dark blue body, almost black, and red wheels. It was drawn by three thorough-bred chestnuts and a grey. The grey went a little tender on his off fore foot, but made a smart appearance nevertheless. The horses had rosettes and streamers at their ears, and their harness jingled grandly as they tossed their heads and snorted along the road, lifting their knees up to their noses. They were driven by a shrewd-looking man, of some five-and-thirty years old, very clean built, and tight about the legs. He might have been a featherweight when he was young, and now weighed at most eight stone. He was dressed in black from top to toe, save for a white neckerchief very neatly folded, confined by a horseshoe gold pin, and a scarlet underwaistcoat.

On the hind seat were two grooms, like the servants out of livery belonging to a great establishment. They wore short black coats, white cravats, buckskin breeches, and top-boots. They had cockades in their hats, which then really betokened that their master was an officer of the Crown, and they were as neat as new pins upon a fair-day. The third person was an impudent lad, dressed in a drab jacket and overalls, with a Scotch cap on his head. He had a complete suit of horse clothing beside him, marked with a duke's coronet and the cypher "C. & R." He sat on the seat behind the driver, and amused himself by squinting and making faces.

Beside the driver on the box was a fat, oily man, who used a great deal of pomatum, and whose garments of many colours sat stiffly upon him, as though they had come straight from the tailor's. The small tips. of his large jean boots were varnished, his white hat was glossy. He was varnished and glossy all over. His gloves were white and tight, his outside coat was white and loose, his inner coat was blue, with gilt buttons. There were two monstrous pins in his long flowered satin cravat, and chains of gold, fresh burnished, dangled all about him. with an agate knob surrounded by garnets, in his great-coat pocket.

He held a cane,

The coachman, who handled his cattle very neatly, brought them cleverly up before the inn door, and one of the grooms behind, swinging briskly down from his seat as they stopped, ran a few steps, touched his hat, from habit, for there was no one near, and called out sharply, "Is the Dook-?"

"All right, Bill," said the stud groom on the box, for that was the rank he held in a nobleman's household. "His Grace is here. There's