"Inside place, cold meat cart," said the knight, with the most profound disregard as to time and place.

"I do not understand you," said Lady Sarah, as well she might, the slang of the hospitals not being familiar to her ear.

"Likely to lose the number of his mess."

"Is he?"

"Yes, slip his wind during the winter."

"Where is he going to pass the winter, in Switzerland ?"

"I see you do not understand our sea phraseology," replied Sir Thomas," the fact is, poor Chorley is dying of an incurable complaint. He's a victim to an astringent prognosis."

Lady Sarah looked him full in the face for a moment, with an expression as if she could have killed him on the spot; she then became violently flushed, then turned deadly pale, and finally would have fainted, had she not observed Sir Thomas cast a most ominous glance at a very large can of water that stood at no great distance, for they had just reached the spot where the dinner had taken place.-N.B. À four-gallon can of water is a specific against fainting fits. It is worth knowing.

The rest of the archery meeting went off tolerably well, some people certainly thought that some other people might have been rather more attentive to them; Miss de Popkinsonne made some remarks to Miss Sternhold about the heartlessness of fashionable men, when Lord Chorley returned to his allegiance to Lady Sarah, who received him graciously; the dancing was exceedingly animated, the moon behaved as well as could be expected, and the entertainment broke up.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE parish church of Ellesmere, as is often the case in parishes that have belonged for centuries to the same family, was within the bounds of the park, it was about half a mile from the house, though concealed from it by a rise in the ground which had been planted a few years before, to shut out a recently erected factory, much against Lord de Creci's will, who declared that he could not understand how any one could look at the factory as long as the church was in sight. Yet in an architectural point of view the pretensions of the church were as humble as possible, it was one of those low quaint buildings whose attractions consists in the associations that belong to them, who tell a tale of generation after generation having passed under their walls, away and away, through the feelings joys and sorrows of this life to slumber peacefully in the consecrated ground around. The original building was little better than a solidly built cottage, with low walls, but a disproportionately high roof, from the centre of which rose a small belfry capped by a spire, whose highest point did not rise fifteen feet above the roof. A later age, finding the accommodation insufficient for the increasing population of the parish, had placed by its side another, which stretched about half way of its length, and in the angle formed by the two was the porch, which simple as it was, was the only part of the building that made any approach to an architectural character. It was low and wide, its roof supported by curiously carved arches, whose shape, together with some ornaments about the windows, entitled it to a place in the comprehensive ranks of gothic structures. Some venerable trees shadowed the humble mounds where the rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep,' and several pathways led in different directions among those tombs, many of whose inscriptions had already become illegible. There were a few stray weeds, a solitary and neglected rose tree, and a new made grave, with a matttock lying by its side, completed the picture. In that church yard one human creature stood alone.

Accustomed from her youth to early rising, Clara had found that the comparatively late hours of Ellesmere, which its noble mistress, judging that youth was not the period for abridging sleep, extended to Lady Emily, left her generally an hour or two to herself in the morning, which she usually spent in enjoying the cool breezes, and fresh air of the fields, before her daily task began, and upon one of these occasions her steps turned towards the church. It was a fine clear morning in the first week in August, and as early as seven o'clock, she found herself indulging a solemn curiosity in studying the many quaint epitaphs that were to be found among the time worn memorials that crowded the churchyard. One in particular, of about a century old,

attracted her notice: it was over the tomb of a couple whose unsparing and unceasing charity was yet gratefully remembered in Ellesmere, and at the bottom of the usual record of names and ages was the following inscription :

"What we gabe, we have,

What we spent, we had,
What we left, we lost."

She was musing upon the spirit so quaintly expressed in these lines, when she heard a footstep close to her, and raising her eyes from the tombstone they encountered those of Harry Mowbray. We will not deny that notwithstanding her magnanimous resolves not to see him, she did nevertheless experience a secret thrill of pleasure at standing once more by the side of her old playmate. She had nothing to reproach herself with, she had done all that she could do, had resolutely avoided him ever since his arrival at Ellesmere, it was no fault of hers if he chose to depart so far from the usual customs of young men, as to wander about churchyards at eight o'clock in the morning, and though certainly confused and flurried by a meeting she was so little prepared for, and which she had so many reasons for wishing to avoid, she did not hesitate to receive him with the cordial welcome that her feelings with regard to him dictated.

But if Clara felt confused and agitated at this sudden encounter with one she had so carefully endeavoured to shun, he was still more flurried with meeting her he had so earnestly desired to meet, for though it was very true that ever since his arrival at Ellesmere, his eyes had anxiously examined every spot where there was the slightest probability of finding her till now that accident had thrown in his way what he had sought in vain, he could at first think of nothing better than to say that he had seen Mrs. Hastings well a few days ago, of which interesting fact his auditor was perfectly aware, he having been the bearer of a parcel to her from Mrs. Hastings, and for a few minutes they conversed upon indifferent subjects. This however was not likely to last long; Henry knew well enough what a dreary blank a lost opportunity leaves behind it, and the first indication she gave of an intention to leave the spot, at once brought him to the subject that was nearest his heart. "I wished to see you once more before I sailed," said he, "for I cannot reconcile myself to leaving England without one effort more to remove the prejudice against me.

"Not against you, Harry," interrupted Clara.

"Well, against my opinions, which I cannot very well separate from myself," said he, "which you have conceived. I cannot reconcile myself to the idea of dismissing all hope, and with it all that makes life worth having-and God knows mine is worthless enough now." He paused for a moment, but there was no answer. Clara listened in mournful silence, but she had no words of hope to speak and no heart to speak others. "I know my own faults very well," continued he; "I never professed to be perfection, but reckless and wayward as I have been, still you do not know with what an unceasing earnestness, I could

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