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whole life. In order to overthrow his son’s already shaken intellect, she was about to employ the self-same cruel weapon by which she had done to death, although in- advertently. his father. She knew that none but Raymond, and Brobably Mildred, had been aware of her aving played the part of the Fair.Lady of Clyfl'e. Rupert himself most certainly had no suspicion of it; and althou h he had of late become such a dare-devi in some re- spect, he still, she knew, retained his supersitions. It was not uncommon with him, when he did not hunt, to pass many hours of the night upon the roof of Clyfle Hall, in order, as he had told her with bated breath, to consult his father's spirit, whiph roamed about the spot where he had died, on matters of importance. That very day he had announced his intention of so doing, and ever since nightfall, Grace had been waiting for him there, attired in her old di ise. Crouchin in an an is of the centra tower, in her ark ands ape. less dress, with her lon hair streaming about her shoulders, an in her hand a shroud, or what ap ared to be so, she looked, indeed, in t e sickly light of that crescent moon, a spectre fit to imperil the reason of the bravest and most sane. Tarrying so long alone. in the very spot where Ralph had perished at her hands, as much as though she had driven a dagger thou h his heart, had tried even her nerves, and or face was worn and haggard with that fearful watch. The nightcwind, too, from off the waters of Ribble Fell, blew full upon her, and chilled her blood, not onl with its cold, but with many a strange an stealthy sound; putting shrill voices into the gargoyles' mouth. that seemed to mock her. even when dumb; using the water~pipes as s airing-trumpets through which to tell the onsehold where the mis- tress was; and hurrying the blanched and withered leaves of autumn along the leaden roof, like some great company of ghosts without a burial-place in mother-earth, who run to meet grim Charon at his very ferry, only to be denied the wished-for ‘ Atl'aet she hears adoor o n and then shut, and in the haste and Violence of the action. recognizes Ru ert’e hand. He can now do nothing slow {I or with care. To think. to speak, except impatient uncon- nected snatches. has ong been difficult for him, but of into his very actions have become hurried. For a moment he stands ineaolute. and throws a lusty glance in the direction of the sky-light. by which his atop-mother stands hid; then falls to peeing repidly to and fro along the cut- “But one more crime,” thought, sheâ€"as though one launched upon a gliuade‘ in the Alps, and bound for a crevasse, should say, but one more slideâ€"“ and then my path is plain and level to the end. While this hare- brained fellow dwells here, I can never feel the mistress of Clyfie Hall. Why should I wait until his madness is full blown? What sanity he has but shows itself in sly suspicion, which itself is dangerous to me, or else in open hate.” It was strange that she should thus excuse herself for what she was about to do, since she had done such far worse deeds than that which she now contemplated upon the road to her yet un- reaohed goal; but such was the case. Perhaps it was that Rupert had been his father’s favorite son: and certainly the nearest approach to remorse which she had ever experienced had touched her with a respect to her treatment of Ralph Glyfiard, the man that had so deeply loved her, if after a somewhat doting fashion. In her scheme against Raymond, she had strength: sued the triple brass about her heart by calling to mind his disobedience to the old man's wishes, as she chose to consider that half promise she had extorted from him about Rupert’s marriage. Raymond had robbed his brother of the bride which his father, as well as Grace herself, had destin- ed for him; Raymond, too, had so little reverence (or the things the old man had held sacred, that it would have vexed him to have seen him rule at Clyfl'e. But Rupert, by no jesuistry of even her subtle brain could she justify her present pur as against _Iu'm_,-‘ nay, there was some in against him,- nay, there was sometfiing peculiarly abhorrent in it, inasmuch as it had for its object the very catastro he the fear_ 9i wh_ich lgad_ embittered _ _ alph'e mission had ended, and had studiously avoided that portion of the house which Mildred and her child were wont to occupy. She felt no sting of conscience for the deed which she had ordered to be done that afternoon. but it haunted her brain un- easily. Her put so was as firm as ever, but not her mint}:o She had been wont to look as calmly on her past with all its blots as on the future with its stubborn obstacles, and the means which it was necessary to use (for so she reasoned. apologetic in spite of herself) to overcome them. But now she shrank from retrospection, and indeed from thought of all kind that was not relevant to the act before her. The wicked who have wickedness upon hand are so far fortunate ;. it is when they have gained all they have so fondly aimed at that their worst punishment begins. Grace Clyflard, notwithstanding that she had steeped her soul in guilt, had as yet gained nothing. While Rupert lived, and was at large, she. had labored in vain. Her heart was weary ‘ of deceit and crime! She longed, almost! as the penitent, for peace, for the hour] when there should be no further need for lies, demanding such continuous care in act and speech, and for violent deeds, from which anxious risk was so inseparable. Chill night had fallen upon Glyfl‘e Hall, and with it {or once repose. The master did not take his untimely sport. and hound and hunter stood with pricking ears, that listened tor the horn in vain. in kennel and .stall. A sudden change. Grace had caused it to he said. had come over his wild and wayward brain; and evidently a change for the better. Still there was danger in it. The lull might grow to long and settled calm, or it might end in storm. Let all about him he kept quiet. The household must retire to rest, as though the hours of darkness were its accustomed season ; let no lights be shown. Mrs. Clyt- lard herself had set the example h retir- ing early, and in her om: bed-chem r the lampwas quenched. She had neither‘sent lam was quenched. She had neither sent 10; _lemqnt_nor Qagor to_ingui_re ho! their By the not or o! ““‘h "CI." 0'. am: ' populunu AVBNGED AT' LAST. A an», on Love and Ind-lo OWE KIN. ran us: oaaucu mom. no flog. Ber ” wwu nvvy’uv-I uwvl uuuu uu‘wlll uvnuuu end the news of its accom liehmen greedily welcomed; the deetruct on of his wife and child had been coolly planned, and shadow of the coming peril, whereas the brave man stands his ground until the substance is close upon him. and it is too late for flight. When a panic seizes a fighting regiment, the ruin is more com late than in one unused to war, which bro and scatters at the first onset, and rallies again without much sense of having been beaten. In infancy, the measles are lightly cau'ght and easily get rid of; but when they do seize upon the adult, the case is severe in proportion to its rarity. Through life, Grace Clyflard had been almost void of fear; not so much from natural courage as from the possession of one engrossing ideaâ€"her own personal aggrandizementâ€"whioh had left no room for it. When the mind is resolute] fixed uplon one object it is callous to in uences w ich would otherwise grievously afiect it ; but when these rise be ond a certain limit itis none the stronger or having hitherto ignored them: s. hurrying step. whose every footfall struck her with unimaginable terror. Grace knew the step of a toe as another woman recognizes that of her lover. It was s swift and vigorous stride such as she well know had belonged hutto one man in Clyffe Hellâ€"and he was dead l CHAPTER XLVI. nnrznr's umcr‘. When fesr does come upon the con- stitutionallfi‘ hold. it is overwhelming indeed. he timid fleeth at the wbxeept in the case of Raymond, when he stood by the couch of his dying father. and regarded his murderese with such ven eful eyes. we have never seen Grace Cly ard tremble, save with rage; but the events of the last month, occurring as they did after two whole years of anxiety and self-repres- sion. had made themselves felt within her nevertheless. The violent death of her listed step-son had_ been eegerly__desired, “ He sought his doom,” murmured Grace. huskily, as she once more peered over the balustrads. “ He drew his death upon himself, and perhaps 1t 18 better so. How strange that he should have met the self- same fate asâ€" Here she utopied and turned, and listened, with her andupo :1 her heart, to still its rapid throbbings. poUp the private stairs close by, which led from her late husband’s roo_m to the roof- -top, there was But with a. cry of terror lest he should bite it through, Grace snatched it from his now feeble grasp. and he fell swift and sheer upon the gravel walk which he had so often paced that very day, and lay there motionless. “What! you are stronger than I?” laughed Rupert harshly; "then I go to the rose-bed a day sooner, that is all.” Yet, with a. madman’s cunning, even while he spoke he exchanged his clutch of the stone for her own flesh. “ You see I have your band now, Mrs. Grace. Since we are about to_p_art, you n_1ust let me kiss itl” “ Fiend, liar, whom now I know. but you shall pay for this I " shrieked Rupert breath- less with rage at least as much as with his ceaseless struggles. " I will spoil the face of this fair 194x as sure as I wear nails." “ Not so," hissed Grace as one by one she_ tore his bleeding fingers from ytheir: hold. “ One, one," cried he, and with a frantic effort. such as a sane man could scarcely ‘ have put forth, drew himself upward to the parapet itself and clutched it with nervous ‘gripe. Upon his holding fast the issue of another life than his depended. If once he reached the top. not all the subtlety of Grace's brain could have prolonged her life five minutes. She knew it well: she read it in the hungry looks which, even in that ‘mortal peril, craved for vengeance rather than for safety; she heard it in the deadly menace of his " One, one. one," re- iterated with frightful hate and vehemenoe, and yet as though it were her knell of doom. Grace had never meant to take his life. but only to rob him of what little store of reason yet remained to him. His falling ‘ backwards was an unforeseen mischance; but now that it was a question of his life ‘ or here, she was not one to hesitate. Shel threw herself at once upon his clutching fingers, and with the force and fury of a wild_oat,_str_ove to unloose there hold. ward leads. These are hinged by a low parapet of stone, besides which, ever and anon, he pauses. and looks down upon the rose-garden, which lies, though at a great depth, just Imderneath. Upon either side of it spreads the stately terrace, and below the sloping lawn, ringed by the moat, here shining like ebony in the moonbeams, there lusterless as a l beneath the overshad. owing bank. eyond, the wooded park, with many a hollow and knoll, blends southward with the rich and teaming low- lands. and on the north. cree hall-way up the base of the barren Fe . But for Rupert Clyifard’s eyes, though bright and even piercing, nature has neither charm nor awe; and yet there is speculation in them too. He is never tired of counting on his fingers one, two, three, and four, and at the fourth he seems to measure the distance from where he stands to the rose- garden below. “ There I beheld her first.” he says; ," down'yon stone stairs, which ever since have seemed like altar-steps. Grace‘ led her by the hand towards me. asthe‘ brier brin s forth the rose. There was our trysting-p ace, and thereâ€"yes, thereâ€" beneath the roses, will I lie when all is over. After life's fltful lever, men sleep well, ’tis saidâ€"I hope so, for I have need of a long restâ€"and where so well as in the spot hallowed by their most sacred recol- lections? What is the chapel to me. or I [to the chapel? Let Guy and Bertram, ‘ Roderick and Cyril. suit! the odor of sane. ‘tityâ€"they like it; it smells in my nose like dead men’s bones. Give me the odor of rose leavesâ€"” " Rupert Clyfl'ard ! ” The young man turned, and behold the boding phantom of his house standing close beside him. With a cry of terror he threw up his arms, stepped swiftly backwards, and in an instant had toppled over the low parapet; but even as he fell, that instinct which, unlike our fair-weather friend reason, remains witll us till death, made him catch at the same coping, where with both hands he hung. Grace slowly thrust her white cold face above the balustrade, and then withdrew it hastily, terrified to see him sonear, striving with feet and fingers, whom she had thought by that time to be lying far below, and past all strife; yet not so hastily' but that his upturned gaze met here, and recognized her wicked eyes. Then all the rest Withdre'fi b'ave'William Gator, who. shaking bin head in token of “No. no, Ra'y,”" murmured be; "we have been apart too, long; stay on wig: her.__ We thgeefqu yes. lxer_9hi d.” she had not dared to retire to rest that night), and so they laid him there. A doe- tor brought by Raymond for quite another pur se was at the Hall, and did what con (1 be done (or the dying man. It was a question of an hour. more or less, of life, he said; if the patient had beeh previously insane, that was not the case now; the shock which had given him his death-blow had, strange as it might seem, restored his reason. Mildred remembered well when Bu rt hadsufiered from that {all on the nig t of his father‘s death what a change {or the better had been worked in his men- tal ailment, which began to develop itself anew only as he grew strong. She tended him now as of yore, although in circum- stances so far different; and as she spouged away from his broad brow, so cruelly, marred, the_bloo_d_that still _wello§1 slowly, of hgr fpxrgivgfiees: “ I thiEk.” said Raymond, tenderly. " that my dear brother wishes to say some~ thing to_yop. gildfed, alonei” A'iook'of hflectiona'to gratitude stole over tbg {gee of the_dyh}_g man. forth from his hie springs. his blue e as awxmming 1n painless tears seemed to g From the rose-garden, along the broad moonlit terrace. men carried the young Muter'ot Clyffe into the house. which would still be his for a little time. There was a fire in the library, where Mildred, even then. was eit- ting with her sleeping child and Lucy for she had not dared to retire to reett at Sick at heart, Raymond hurried to that [ part of the battlements which he knew com- ‘mauded the spot in question. and locked down. As he did so. a prostrate figure upon the gravel walk beneath raised him- self with difficulty upon one'arm, and looked up at him. Brother's face met brother's for the first time after years of absence, and after what se arates brother from brother far more t an yearsâ€"far more than broadest seas-suspicion, injustice. wrong. f‘BayJ’ 1 "Rue." 1 Little indeed to say; but when heart speaks to heart, there is no need of words! Each loving monosyllable breathed forth as much of trust revrved, enmity forgotten, kinshi and old affection brought to mind, as cou d have been contained in a volume. “ I come, I come,” cried Raymond, passionately; then dashed down the turret- stair. while the poor gibbering wretch, who was once his deadly foe, besought him in vain to tarry and take from her the shroud which she had wrought so cunningly for__Ruper_t’s self. “Look in the garden; look in the rose. garden,” cried a mocking tongue; and two fair hands were clapped together in triumph; and again that laugh rang forth, which, to the ear that had once heard it, makes all laughter have an evil sound for- ever. “Rupert: good Rfipért, it. is I, your brot_her_R£_.ym9nd I ” _ The echoing walls that stood above the skylight returned, “ Rue, Rue!” The hearse-like woods replied in fainter notes; the solemn voices of the night that dwelt in Ribble Fell gave dimly back. “Rue, Rue! " The startled owl, taking its noise~ less-flight from the ivied tower close by, seemed to give like reply. At that dread sight and sentence, reason foreook her seat in the. wretched woman's brain, and she fled up the roof at speed, shrieking with maniac mirth. Her features, still distorted with the passion evoked by her late struggle, and crowned with frenzied hate, were a spectacle to freeze a brave man’s blood, but not to evoke his pity. Raymond knew what had happened at a glance, but it moved him scarce at all, in comparison with that. which he did not see. “Rue. Rue!” cried he. “Where‘ art that}? Eugen-t? énquer,l_§ug.‘Rge!” __ i The words she had answered so con- ‘tnmptuously when spoken that morning by Clement, and which had intruded upon her more than once that night, again seemed to ring within her ears: “ I have heard that spirits will some time re-enact the self-same scene which was fatal to them. or to those dear to them in this life, and in the self-same place." Was she to see her husband once more stagger and fall yonder; and was his dead son indeed coming up to succor him as before. and to cast again upon her that look of hatred and execration which had never faded from her memory? As though to resolve her deubts, the half-face of the moon shone forth for a moment free from the hanging clouds, and her straining eyeballs beheld the little door burst open from within, and on the threshold Raymond Clyffard standing as in life, with his arm out-stretched. and point. ing to herself, while she heard his voice thundering like the trump of doom, “ Thou devil, I come for thee I " hera n‘g o!_reznorse. When she looked down ut atew moments back. on Wilson's inanimate body, asit lay in the moo ixh . with a broad streak of red athwart the white shut face, she had involuntarily uttered asigh of relief, as one might do whose toilsome task is over at last, and who has only to reap the reward. All these ter- rible occurrences, in short. had been shocks which she had survived, but by no means with unimpaired were of resistance; and like a bridge whic has bravely borne some tremendous test of its strength. her mind stood firm, but vastly weakened by the ordeal. Ber physical powers, too. had been severely tried. Appetite had long deserted her, and the snatches of sleep, which were still vouchsafed to her scarce ‘brought any rest for dreams that were a kaleidoscope of her plots and plans by day. She had sufiered more than she dared to own even to herself during her late lonely watch upon the root-top; nothing but the reflection that what was aboutto be do. manded of her was the last service which her pitileas spirit would require of her failing strengthâ€"after which should surely succeed unbroken re s and easeâ€"had kept her to her post, t e very spot where the only fellow creature whO'had ever loved her had so miserably perished, and she waiting there to accomplish the mental ruin of his beloved son. She had gone through with it all, and more ; for was not Rupert’s blood upon her hands ? And now, when mind and body were alike exhausted in the dread removal of that last obstacle, and cravin for the rest which had been promised t emâ€"â€" Lo, the step of that dead man upon the turret-stair! omutod (a she thought without oostin her n pang olremorse. on she look " Alas. poor wretohl You may well say, brother ”â€"hers a shudder shook the wasted limbsâ€"4' that is worse than death." ' “ You have not told us. Rueâ€"and we must know,” said Raymond, hauntening1 to inter 30â€"" how came you in this plig t 7 Did i. e unhaspy woman in her madness ” -he hesitate and stole a look towards his wileâ€"her niece. ' " No, Raymond; I tell backward of myself." _ “ She is out of the reach of forgiveness and punishment also," returned Raymond solemnlg. " Is a 0 dead. then?” '1 No. Rue, worse than that. A terrible retribution has overtaken her; her mind has left her." " Where is that man‘s mistress ?" inquired Rupert, when the serving man had left the room. I‘ I'will forgive her too. Is she not the Mildred's aunt?” - Oi'tor oarI'ied 'the thin "fingers to his lips and kissed them like one who touches sacramental bread. then reve'rentiallywith- row. " Did he guard theft" cried Ru’pert with sudden energy. “ Then call him back. Gator, I know not whether you be a true man or no, but give me your hand ; and ii I do not grasp it it is my lack of strength forbids. I thank you; and if I have any- thipg to forgive you, ]_I forgive it”, “ Do no man wrong. dear Rue, at such a time as this." said Raymond. gravely. “ He did his best. indeed he did, however it new seem, for you, for me, for all of " He watched'by nighi'und any to guard my child and me,"urged Mildred pitconaly. H “it! ho nun-:11 0)..” 9” n-hu‘ Dunn-4 nn'ol. Dear Rupert,” whispered Mildred, “ he loved your father deeg‘ly, served him dutio fully; hir‘ed himself out to the beseet masters to help your Uncle Cyril all he could.” “ Away 1 away I" still murmured the feeble voice. quivering with rage as much as with its feeblenese. “ It is only natural, air," sighed the poor servant man ; “ we are known by the com. pany we keep; and I have kept the worst. Heaven bless you, Master, though you love me not. When we two meet again you will know me better.” With that he moved away. cut to his faithful heart. The votce was silent, but the lips still mgvgd thepgmgn “ Ayvyy, “gay I" _ “Awayi away I” continued Rupert, pas- ;iongtely, and covering his eyes with his an . "“611, not so,” interposed Raymond; “ he always meant us well, both he and Inn slate; Lucy.” nAway. thou villain l" ejaculated the dying man. He paused for breath with pained and laboring chest, while Mildred. kneeling by his side in silence. wept; and Raymond, holding the cold hand in his, and chafing it in vain, dropped man‘s rare tears. Then, midst the hush, there came a groan from nigh the door. " What is that?” asked Rupert, hastily. “It is I,” said Gator, rising and approach- ing the couch with downcaet looka. fate-if I can call that fate which I myself had helped to bring upon myselfâ€"might have been delayedâ€"delayed, kind. generous woman, not averted. Had we marriedâ€" for one who is pledged to death. dear brother, may say so muchâ€"I should only have loved her thropgh myself. Sooner or laterâ€"but mark how, even upon the very threshold of the grave, the habit rules! And yet, for once. although I deal with ‘ I’ and ' me’ it is not for my own sake, Ray. ‘Dear brother and sweet sister, since God \has willed it so, think not that Itake :advantage of my neighborhood to death, as some have done, to abide you. or to pack your memories with recipes I have not used myself, of ’how to live. Chiding would ill become these lips. indeed. even if you deserved itâ€"you. than whom I know no worthior souls upon this‘ earth. For yourselves. you have no need\ of warning- kind, unselfish, wise. But for ‘ that little oneâ€"and others. if Heaven should send themâ€"bearing this name of Clyflard, and brought up in this stately place,‘oh keep them from this bane of ‘ Seltâ€"Selfâ€"Self 'â€"â€"the only forerunner of doom which in truth haunts Clyffe Hallâ€" ;lhe only curse that clings to this unhappy ouse." “ I am dying, Ra .” began the Master of Clyde calmly. “ an can see nothing clearly with my outward eyes; but the inward sight which has been so long denied~me. is very clear. It seems to me. brother. that I see myself for the first time. Selfishâ€" hueh I ” said he with grave pathos, and holding up one white transparent fingerâ€" " I know itâ€" Self-seeking. self~indulgent from the first. From the very first, I say. This was the madness, and no other, which I drew in with my mother's milk. My father had it before me; and his before him; and all the Clyffarde yonder. whether they lived mad or sane. The motto of our house writ on that foolish scroll there is nothing to the purpose; it should be‘ Selfâ€" Selfâ€"Self.’ From the cradle I was taught how great a thing it was to he the Master of Clyffeâ€"oue of you dull, stern folks, by whose hands, I think, no seed of good was ever plantedâ€"so great,that hardly could one grow to such a height. Nature herself was jealous of us, and had interposed an ‘ obstacle. We were so high and strong, we Clyfi'ards, because we called a handful of‘ the great round earth our own for a few consecutive years in the vast sum of time â€"we were so prosperous. I say, that out of jealousy. or mayhap fear. the powers of Heaven had laid upon us a special burden. This I was given to know by hirelings, but not directly; I gathered it from hints and songs, which, pieced together with scraps of vulgar rumor heard without the walls. eked out the story which my father’s gloom cor- roborated. Then. dwelling upon this, and never forone moment suffering my thoughts to stray from him whom it concernedâ€" me. Rupert Clyffardâ€"I grew from worse to worse, until the prophecy fulfilled itself. I thinlr, if Mildred pereihad loved me, this his quertere noieeleeely upon the door-step, like 5 dog on watch. Except the low mean a! the wind upon the terrace-walk without. there wee not 3 sound to be heard; and the only light came from the wood fire. which elept end awoke by fitsâ€"now shining full u n some battered breast late or lance end. with its tattered en moth- eeten pennant, now flickering out upon the heraldic panes, and calling into light the wierd. fantaetie tom: of bird or beastâ€"now sinking into semi-darkness, more suggeetive of those strange surround- inge_etill. resolution not to interrupt. but, at the ”me time. not.to.leuyo thou_!_our_. took up H But godmamma was even a greater favorite yet. The Careyu had of course been informed of all that had taken lace at Clyfle, and of so much of aymond’e strange imprisonment as did not hazard discovery of the “Martin's Neat." But at first, and indeed for many months, no invitation was issued from the Hall, even to friends so dear as the . When it did arrive at Lucky Bay. cnuohe in the most affectionateterms that Raymond and Mildred could jointly en, it could not be immediately accepte , (or a. reason as satisfactory as valid. Another stranger. very much smaller than Mr. Stevens. was expected shortly at the coast-guard station, whom not even the sanguine lieutenant could suspect of being an admiralty official. got I_ Another countenance not remarkable for personal beauty was also welcome to Milly, as honey and the honeycomb, which latter it so greatly resembled. “Lor. godpnpa." she would exolaim. alluding to the ravages of small-pox, " what a. funny face you've an}, ' ” V " Yes. my dear," would the good lieuten- ant make answer, enjoying the child’s naive remark, while it. chilled her paranta’ veins; “ ib’a wry aftpcnsively carved, in it. not, Milly ? ” Be sure that Raymond and his wife, thus careful of their conduct to their kind, did not forget their friends. Walter Dick- son. down at Sandby, had seen no need to smuggle for the remainder of his days, although he did it to the last, from love and habit; while young Richard Brock married Phoebe (which was to have been such a long engagement, because he had no boat of his own, poor fellow) that same summer. The faithful se’rvant who, for the Clyfiards' sake had borne so long his bur- den of contumel and disgrace. reaped as great reward as e could be persuaded to accept, in holding the same fields and farm his fathers held; there he worked and prospered, but a solitary and well-nigh friendless man; for the new times at Clyde were not to his taste ; the master and his wife unbent, he thought, too much. and lost in dignity what they gained in mere love and honor ; more- over Cator, like his new mistress, had old antipathies and mietrusts to contend against, which, to one of his unpliant spirit, were unsupporteble. At his own special desire Lucy remained at the Hall (a'great domestic power, and especially in all things appertaining to the nursery), for he was unwilling that she should suffer through his misfortune and felt fully equal to hearing his own burden, the carrying of lwhich, indeed, it must he confessed, was not entirely displeasi'ng to his sombre nature. From time to time. however, he kept in play the fountain of kindly feeling. which lay too dee within him for ordinary occasions to evo e, by coming to see the master, who received him always with the most cordial greeting, and to dandle Miss Milly until that young lady grew too bigfor such attentions. , She was a Carr to start with, one of an upstart race, despised wherever known, and well known in those parts, and no mere town-bred folks can understand what a bar rierto getting on with proud and simple conntry gentry is s. misfortune of that sort. Moreover. though much was kept concealed, it was understood that to the machinations of Grace Clyffardna hopeless dangerous lunatic for life, but well and carefully tended in a place for other than that to which she had doomed poor Rupertâ€"it was understood, I say, that Mildrctl's aunt and uncles had worked great evil to the family into which she had married, an act in itself almost nupardonable. 'even if such had not been the case ; for eagles, said the country code of moral obliga- tion, should match with males, and not choose their mates out of tlw nest of spar- row-hawks. Nay,even her whole house- ‘hold murmured something of this, and ‘remembering what the lust Luly of Clyde had been, at first submitted to her nieoe's rule with an ill grace. But Mildred had been used to be misjudged when friendless, and now she had her linebi.hd'8 love to strengthen her, and hell her firm before the eyes of all. Until they saw her aright, she was content to do he r duty, and wave recompense from others. But it came at last. One by one she gained her foes all over to her own side, by bribe-s that none with hearts can be so stubborn as to resist for longâ€"humility, goodwill, and a desire to please, that would not he denied, but rose again, no matter how cast back, with smiles and pleading hands. “Remember. brother, for ”:0 sake 01 all who iollow you, the warning which I spokeâ€"the only legacy poor Rupert- hu to leave. Selfâ€"self~soli ; that is the Olyfiard’s curse. And if your i-liildren ask to hear its history, than tell them mine." CHAPTER XL} ll. EVER Al"llil:\‘.Altl‘. . The seed which Rupert 'sowed with his last breath in that good ground, his brother Raymond's heart. took full clrect. From the moment that he began to rule. a new system made itself felt wherever his in~ fluence extended. Over all the lands of Clyde there was now a master indeedâ€"not merely a sluggard nursing dreams of his family greatness. or creating for himself imaginary giants. which in the end became toostrcng for him and his. He was not (cured as all his race had been before him ; nor was he merely resljrccbed like his father -â€"he was reverenced. moored, and loved. Time never hung heavy on his hands. Generation after generation of mismla. of rule by deputy. or of (aim: aller. had lelt him quite enough to do on fell and field, in farm and hamlet. ’l‘ho spreading park was no longer it shut paradise to all but some half-a-dozon human crea- ltures. The Hall. as soon as the long days ‘of mourning were accomplished, was set m order as it had never been before, and did not want for guests. The county families welcomed with open armsâ€" as though he were some repentant prodigal at their own houseâ€"a Clyfiard that was neither aband- oned nor a recluse. He was as good a sportsman as the best of them ; but he had learned to live not only for his own pleas- ures. I do not say that in all this Ray- mond Clytfard was seconded 'by his wife, because that word would do her wrong; not that she took the lead in anything wherein it becomes a woman to follow or not to meddle,but that 9.1m haul a far harder part to act than he. and played it to perfec- tion. “ Thank God! " cried 1H iMrwl fervently; and from the depths of liuyzuuud’a oh.» came a. great sigh of relief. Thou ova: Rupert’s livid and Wanted Ltco there stole a smile which mado i: almost young afidn. “Remember. brother, for the sake 0 II! Continued on seventh pugs.