and inferior pleasures, and therefore when the appointed period came his conduct, though more satisfactory on the whole, was not such as entirely to satisfy the fears and scruples of Maude. The result was a yet further lengthening of the term of probation, and the consequence of Hubert's learning this (unjust as he deemed it) renewal of his old sentence, was the interview above described.

Many, as well as Courtenay-even Beatrice herself, albeit little apt to find fault with any action of Maude's-had thought her too severe in this, and that her still refusing to recognise their engagement, had more in it of a proud desire to exact more than another, and a wish to own no one as so connected with her who was not superior to every one beside, than of justice and reason. However, Maude listened to a gentle remonstrance from her sister, and a voluble exhortation from her aunt, advising her to say No at once, and dismiss the man altogether if she did not intend having him, and answered nothing, but kept to her original resolution.

For Hubert himself, he could not have adopted a worse plan than he did, to induce her to alter her determination; and had he allowed himself calm time to reflect, he understood Maude quite well enough to have known this. To force himself on her presence just as he had received an injunction to absent himself yet longer, and then dare hint even at the possibility of her having any other motive and a less commendable one for her conduct than she had assigned, was not the way to reach the depth of her tenderer nature, or induce the proud-souled girl to relent.

C

CHAPTER III.

"IF you please, ma'am, here is a petition from old Woods, his granddaughter has brought round," said the butler, as he stood half hesitatingly at the door, without advancing to where Maude sat on a low stool by the window, gazing listlessly out on the bright sunshine, and still, deep, shadeless green of the trees in the mid-hour of an August day.

The young lady, without changing her position, stretched out her hand mechanically, and as Simonds, rather astonished, advanced with the paper, Mrs. Redgrave exclaimed (that is, so far as she ever did exclaim, but her tones of surprise were no higher or quicker than other people's ordinary talk,) "Dear Miss Willingham, you will not surely look into it! they are always such dirty, nasty things, and never true, they say. Pray don't!"

"Who say?" said Maude, who had a most inconvenient knack of disliking such general assertions, and often bringing those who used them to book.

"Who! Dear me; well, I don't know, everybody, I believe, at least they always say so."

Maude smiled somewhat impatiently, and now thoroughly roused, deliberately got up and unfolded the crumpled paper presented to her. She read it with some attention, and then turning round demanded simply, "Is it true, Simonds ?"

"Really ma'am," began that obsequious but greatly consternated domestic, and then suddenly recollecting himself went on, "why yes, ma'am, I believe that is. I think, ma'am, he is one of your own tenants, and Mr. Baldwin could tell you all about it."

“Go send for him directly, Simonds: let him know I want him instantly, and let this person wait till he comes."

Simonds bowed and withdrew, and Maude, turning to Mrs. Redgrave, who had sunk back again in her easy chair after the unwonted exertion of which she had been guilty, said, "This seems a sad, pitiable case, Mrs. Redgrave, a poor old man, a small farmer, burned out of house and home, and all his stock destroyed. Poor things," she added, shuddering, "how fearful for the poor animals!"

"Yes, very, very sad; but really now, perhaps it isn't true," replied that lady, still clinging to her old refuge, and sheltering herself from hunting up any feeling of interest or compassion she might possibly discover in some seldom ransacked corner of her heart, by the convenient assurance that "they said it was not true."

Maude had long ago measured the length, depth, and breadth of this lady's intellect, and sometimes amused herself with extracting fresh specimens of its extreme shallowness; but she was not in a mood for this just now, she wanted sympathy, judgment; and the utter absence of either, the hopelessness of any coming, made her feel very impatient and dissatisfied. She forgot how hot it was, how weary she had felt a little while before, and began walking restlessly up and down the room, now looking at her watch, and now consulting the time-piece on the table.

Two or three times was Simonds summoned to know whether he had sent for her bailiff, where he was, and when he would probably be there. The replies were too uncertain to be very satisfactory, and when the luncheon bell rang, and no tidings of Mr. Baldwin had yet arrived, Maude could scarce curb her impatience and irritability sufficiently to do the honours of her table, or attend to Mrs. Redgrave with the politeness her own high breeding dictated and that lady most thoroughly appreciated; for the hours of meals were those, when like some other animals, both biped and quadruped, she evinced most liveliness and animation. Just as Maude began to wonder if Mrs. Redgrave

could possibly dispose of her second plate of jelly, as a mere wind up to the numerous substantials she had successfully dismissed, Mr. Baldwin was announced, and joyfully jumping up, Maude begged the still occupied lady to excuse her, and hurried into the library.

"Good morning, Mr. Baldwin. Pray be seated, and now do tell me if this sad affair is true about the fire."

"True enough, indeed, ma'am, it is, and sad enough too; but indeed I did not think you would have cared about it so very much, or I would have come on purpose to have let you know: still, ma'am, 'tisn't so very serious an affair for you, the expense of building it up again will be something, to be sure, but then it'll be worth paying higher rent for, and I rayther think by the terms of the lease whether or no they shouldn't be called on to go shares, though 'twas pure accident, to be sure, and no fault of theirs or their belongings."

While Mr. Baldwin thus ran on, partly in the hope of warding off his lady's reproofs, (which he confidently expected from so unusual a summons, and the consciousness that, little as she attended to the business of her estate, it was his duty to have informed her of this fire before,) and partly to bespeak her mercy towards the tenants, who he was fully aware were far more worthy of pity than herself, (and his conscience pricked him for alluding at all to any outlay on their part, entirely as the circumstances of the case exonerated them from all blame,) Maude looked at him in a sort of bewildered astonishment, and it was not till some minutes after he had ceased speaking that something like a glimpse of the truth broke in upon her and then, with an indignant flash of her eye, and crimson cheek, she exclaimed, in a tone which utterly confounded her unfortunate bailiff,

Surely you cannot for a moment fancy I am thinking of myself, or of my loss in this matter! What I wish to know, Mr. Baldwin, is, whether these poor

people are really as great losers as their paper states, and if all they have written is true ?”

"I beg pardon, miss; ma'am, I beg pardon: but, really, I hardly knew-many ladies would have taken it so differently, and I thought perhaps "

"No matter what you thought; you know now what I wish, and can, I presume, answer me ?"

Surely, yes, surely, yes, ma'am; and indeed it is as true as anything can well be, ma'am. Poor folks! they are honest, industrious, hard-working people, ma'am, as any on the estate, though, may be, not quite so rich. The old man didn't much like having the petition drawn up, but, however, the Rector advised him to it, and so it was done; else he's far above begging, or anything of that sort, ma'am; only this is such a hard turn, and downright loss. He didn't know where to look, or what to be at; and you see, ma'am, he's old and feeble, and has lost his son, and the women can't do much on the farm, or be much help to him, poor man! so he isn't so well able to bear such a pinch as this as he was one time, may be."

Maude heard very little of this speech; the chief sense of it reached her, it is true, but her thoughts were busied on a far wider range of subjects than Mr. Baldwin's long sentence comprised. When it was ended, she asked how long the Woods had lived on her farm.

66

Well, father and son, a matter of two hundred or so, Miss, I should say; but they used to be better off, and had the larger farms, one of them; they're a respectable family, very, ma'am, for the like of them," he added, doubtfully, hardly knowing how she might take such eulogium of the stock of her tenants, and feeling exceedingly puzzled and alarmed in regard to his own conduct and expressions in this very new and extraordinary humour of his employer.

"Poor people," said Maude, sadly; "pray see that they want for nothing, and let the place be built up