being on his way to the little Catholic church-which he would have found inconveniently far off had he not struck into the path through his own woods, at the spot where Jack and Mavis first saw each other-met a lady. As she advanced towards him under the leafy arcade, the Squire perceived that she was a stranger. She was plainly dressed in black, and there was nothing remarkable about her face, except that it was intelligent and pale. The Squire raised his bat, and the lady acknowledged the courtesy with a bow, as they passed each other. One of the new people,' said the Squire to himself, and thought no more about this casual meeting. But the lady walked on with a hurried step, and it was some minutes before the colour that had faded at sight of him returned to her cheeks.

Mr. Bassett mentioned to Miss Nestle that he had seen a lady who was a stranger to him in the beechwood path, and that he presumed, as she was not going in the direction of the church, she was one of the new residents at Bassett out for a walk. Miss Nestle received this communication in her dryest manner, did not correct his impressions by her more accurate knowledge, and privately hoped that the lady,' who, thanks to the Law, had usurped her position at Bassett, would at least have the decency to keep herself in her place and not intrude on the Squire.

Resolutely as she hid her discomfiture, things were going hard with Miss Nestle. She had no private cares or personal interests of any kind; the first serious trouble that had assailed her for many years was composed of the instinctive uneasiness with which Jack's acquaintance with Mavis Wynn had inspired her, and the sad necessity of seeing her idol depart to share the inevitable hardships and dangers of the war. The first of these grievances had been happily disposed of by the departure of the farmer's family for good;' the second she must just bear with; but then came the astounding removal from Bassett, and the far harder necessity of contemplating her beloved master in the light of a despoiled, injured, and unresisting victim. She hated the idea of his being shut out from the place that he loved, from the woods, the gardens, the terrace, and the rooms; but she hated. even more the notion of his visiting all these by the courtesy of that odious new person at Bassett,' whom she regarded as an accomplice of the Law.

The days passed by, and although the Squire visited the Bassett woods and gardens more than once, he said nothing of any second meeting with the obnoxious lady housekeeper. He had received some friendly visits, including one from the new curate in charge, who had replaced Mr. Colvin, and who recom

mended himself to Mr. Bassett by his nice discernment of the antiquarian merits of the Dame's Parlour-side, and his appreciation of the peaceful landscape. The county families were for the most part in town for the whole season, or a bit of it, according to custom, but Sir Henry Trescoe, being at his country place for a few days, came over to visit the Squire immediately, and by so doing helped to reconcile Miss Nestle to human nature. In a world-she argued with herself-ruled by anything so monstrous as a law which could put new people in the place of Bassetts at Bassett, anything might be looked for; even the existence of persons capable of siding with the law, and holding Mr. Bassett of less importance at Fieldflower Farm than under his ancestral roof.

The Squire was out of doors when Sir Henry Trescoe reached the farm, and, at his own request, was conducted by Reuben to the river-side arbour. There he found his old friend, with Trotty Veck at his feet, Isaac asleep on the green table close to his elbow, and Balthazar Gracian's 'Homme de Cour' in his hand. He rose to receive the visitor with alacrity, and as Sir Henry preferred to remain in the air, the Squire proposed that they should walk along the river bank. The picturesque old building was new to Sir Henry, and he examined it with interest. Of course, the conversation soon turned on Jack, and Sir Henry told Mr. Bassett that he was ordered by his daughters, Jane and Caroline, to bring them full particulars of what Jack wrote to his father.

Nothing loth, the Squire quoted Jack's cheery, gay-hearted letters. In these the best was made of everything, and the disorder which was destined shortly to assume such gigantic dimensions, and to lead to such terrible loss and suffering, was barely admitted. Everything was couleur de rose with the ardent young soldier; he declared that he was learning his trade,' as Mr. Dexter styled the acquisition of military science, making friends among his brother officers, and in all respects doing well. The points noirs were the terrible sickness among the men, and the irregularity of the postal service. Everybody felt the hardship inflicted by the unpardonable neglect and mismanagement of the postal department. Nothing could be more calculated to produce disheartenment and discontent.

'Jack is very strong on this point,' said the Squire, and it is indeed a cruel hardship. His letters have reached me all right, so far as I know, but he has not had all mine. Here is his last.' The Squire took the document from his breast pocket, and turned to the fourth page. 'Our mails are long overdue; no doubt they are lying at Gallipoli, a place which people at home seem to believe is a short walk from Scutari, or perhaps next door! I