head. "Margaret!" he said again more eagerly,-his large hand was laid on hers; then he dropped on his knee beside her," Margaret, dear, dear Margaret!" His arm was round her. For one moment their eyes met. His tears were on her face, as, drawing her unresistingly to him, he whispered softly, "O Margaret, my own at last, after so many long years of sorrow and remorse!"

CHAPTER XXXVII.

It was a large low room, decidedly too low to be in good proportion; but it was airy and pleasant-looking. The Oriel window at the end looked out into a small patch of turf, bordered by shrubs, which to some extent shut out the ivy-covered wall and the roadway running beside it; two smaller windows-modern additions-on the side overlooking a paved court; and beyond it the road in question (the chief thoroughfare leading into the little market-town of Farleigh). By the fire-for, though June, it had been a wet, blusterous day-Katie sat, watching impatiently the hands of the little time-piece as they moved slowly round over its white face. Her ear caught the sound of the railway whistle. Then followed the well-known click of the latch-key, and the next minute Ralph's tall figure stood within the bright cheerful room. A quiet warm embrace, and then Ralph turned to the comfortable fire. "All right, little wife?” he asked; "all gone on steadily and well?"

"Yes, nothing could be better; Mr. Marsdon said so just now when we came out of chapel."

Katie placed a chair by the tea-table. "Come, eat," she said; "you look as if you had taken nothing since you left us last night."

"It has been a trying errand; but I am very glad I went."

"Poor Mr. Owen!" Katie said "and his death was so sudden !"tears were in her eyes.

"Very; but, judging by his arrangements, not so to him."

"Why did the lawyer send for you? why not have waited until the funeral? You will not go again?"

"I think so. Owen has left me executor and residuary legatee. They could do nothing without my orders. I get an ample legacy by his death." Ralph looked very grave and pale as he spoke.

Katie laid her hand on his shoulder. "Two days ago, you said you would be in debt to your dying day. God is kinder to you than you believe."

"Katie, I can't eat," Ralph said, pushing aside his plate; and he sat for a few minutes still and thoughtful. "I shall be out of debt now," he said quietly.

Katie came and sat down beside her husband. lations-no kindred?" she asked.

"But had he no re

"As far as I can learn, but two,-mere peasants-country labourers, -whom he has well provided for. His doctor, lawyer, and old servants, too, are all handsomely remembered. To his godson, Owen Atherton, he

leaves an estate in Hampshire, and 20,000l., to accumulate until he is of age, when he is to take the name of Owen after his own; and the rest,— "in consideration of the spiritual comfort and consolation afforded him by the teaching and preaching of the Reverend Ralph Atherton, and the bright sunshine infused into an old and withered heart by his wife's hopeful spirit, wholly and solely to the Reverend Ralph Atherton aforesaid."

Ralph looked into Katie's white face. He drew her gently to him with a solemn soberness, which involuntarily communicated itself to her. "All my life long hitherto," he said, "it has pleased God I should struggle with poverty,—an increasing family with increasing wants, which, do as I would, have threatened to overwhelm me. Suddenly the trial is reversed. It will be our duty now to acknowledge the responsibility of great riches. God grant we may fulfil them, for Christ's sake!"

Katie's hand fell on Ralph's shoulder. There were manly tears in his eyes, and a heavy flood pouring down from hers.

Long they sat silently thanking God, feeling, as many have done before them under the first shock of so great a gift, that the relief from one set of burdens is swallowed up in the magnitude and vastness of another.

When at length Katie went up to inspect her nursery before returning to bed, Ralph, stretched on the sofa, was startled by a sharp ring at the outer door. Charlotte's voice reached his ears.

"Indeed, sir, neither my master nor mistress are gone to bed; if you will wait a moment I will take in your card."

"Say my business is urgent, or I would not disturb them at this unreasonable hour."

Ralph was sure the voice was familiar to his ear. Charlotte as she came into the room.

He half met

"He is such a tall, handsome gentleman, sir; taller even than you." Ralph smiled; but the smile died out instantly as his eye fell on the

name.

"It is a mistake," he said sternly. "Not here; not with me. Does he know who lives here?-my name?"

"Oh, yes, sir! he asked for you,--for Mr. Atherton,-and said he wanted to see you very particularly."

The tall upright figure, and the dark moustache, and the military cap and cloak, had made a very favourable impression on Charlotte's soft and impressible fancy.

Ralph became more and more disturbed. "The impudence!" he said, in a half muttered tone to himself. "Well, I suppose I must see him. Yes; show him in." And standing on the hearth-rug, with lowering brow and unmistakable signs of annoyance on his open face,-the hateful card still in his hand,-Guy Vyvian was ushered into his presence.

There was no hand extended towards him, no words of welcome to greet him. Ten years ago those two had parted friends. Events had come to pass which had rendered them, one at least, the bitter enemy of the other. Ralph bent his head coldly.

"It is a late hour, Mr. Atherton, to call, but very urgent business has made it imperative on me to lose no time."

The tones of Guy's voice were manly and straightforward. He seemed quite prepared for his host's show of resentment and reserve.

"My regiment is ordered to the Crimea in three weeks. Under any circumstances, I could not have gone out without coming to you, to express my deep contrition and sorrow for past offences, and to ask you, as a Christian and a clergyman, to forgive what I have bitterly repented, and to extend such an act of grace as should have induced you, at least, to shake hands with me, even if we could be no more friends. But now circumstances are changed. She whom I so deeply injured,-whom I have never for one moment ceased to love and reverence,-Margaret,-is again my own, and by her desire I have come here to tell you so."

Ralph's eyes shot sparks of fire. "And who says that Margaret has so forgotten what is due to herself-to me-to her family?"

"I say it, Mr. Atherton, on the word and honour of a gentleman, though I see you do not think I deserve the title; and more than that, Margaret herself says it, if you will read this." And Guy held out Margaret's letter, written in her own clear characters, to her brother, who was too bewildered and angered to venture on breaking the seal.

"There has been some over-persuasion,-some woman's work,-some interference somewhere, or Margaret would never have taken such a step without consulting me. Aunt Sarah, with her weakness for patching up quarrels, her 'peace principles,' as she calls them,-"

Ralph was working himself up into a fury against his visitor, who stood so provokingly upright and calm, as if, in penance of his past sins, he was determined to bear meekly every galling sting Margaret's brother could hurl at him.

"Any thing that a soldier can hear and be silent, Mr. Atherton," Guy said, in a quiet firm voice, “I have made up my mind to listen to from you, and any explanation you like to ask for, I feel bound to answer fully and freely; but an insinuation against your sister-against Margaret-I am bound now to resent. You must, I warn you, be careful how you allow her name to be called in question in my presence. If you would only give yourself time to read her letter, you will find that neither Miss Waldron nor any one else had any part in the transaction. It occurred under Lord Redenham's roof, and with the full and free sanction of him and his wife."

"Not content with making a fool of herself for the sake of a girl's love-fancy, Ethelind is now weak enough to entangle Margaret in the same misery," Ralph said bitterly. "Redenham has already come between me and my interests once; I suppose he is trying another tack now to annoy and provoke me."

table.

Guy's patience was well-nigh spent. He took up his cap from the "Atherton," he said, in a quiet determined tone, "I have neither time nor inclination to bandy words with you longer. My stay in England

is very short, and I have much to do before I leave. We can none of us recall the past; but we can forgive it and forget it. Margaret has done so. This morning-accidentally-her unchanged love for me was suddenly revealed. Mine has never wavered; and with the full consent of Lord and Lady Redenham, it is fixed that our marriage takes place on Saturday."

"Impossible!" Ralph broke in. "Surely you must be mad. Margaret must have lost her senses. You tell me you are going with your regiment to the Crimea. Margaret can scarcely be so lost to all sense of propriety as to marry you under such circumstances. Captain Vyvian, tell her from me I protest against it as her nearest relative."

"If any thing could be an argument in my favour, surely it would be the unreasonable violence you have shown in this interview, Atherton. How could I trust your sister to you, after your open avowal of dislike to me? But that is not the question; it only makes it doubly my duty to give her a legal claim to the shelter my name and means will give her during my absence; but as neither life nor death will now change us, and as I have the duties of my profession to attend to, it gives us the right to be together until the vessel sails in which my passage is already taken. It may seem to those who do not know the secret somewhat hurried; but it cannot to the friends who know that for the last ten years-ay, from the hour when your father and you, Atherton, first took compassion on the friendless boy sent to England to make his way among strangers— my boyhood's devotion and my manhood's unswerving love have been offered up, without a moment's change, to your sister Margaret."

As Guy ceased speaking, a slight, frail little figure appeared at the half-open door, and Katie came in and stood beside Ralph. "This can be no other than Guy Vyvian. Oh, I am so glad!" she exclaimed, and frankly holding out her hand. "Captain Vyvian, the only blessing we needed to make our own already full cup overflow, was the assurance that Margaret's love had at last been rewarded, after so much patient suffering as she has borne. If this really has been Lady Redenham's doing, most sincerely do I thank her. I am sure she amply atones for any shortcomings on our own parts, in the happiness she will confer on Margaret."

Time was

A bright answering smile played over Guy's face. "For Margaret's sake, Mrs. Atherton, you must let me thank you for your kind reception of a stranger; to you I shall not fear to trust our cause. when Atherton and Vyvian were names which were seldom heard separately; and though your husband has seemed little inclined to listen to me to-night, I think I may safely leave it to you to win him over to our side. It would be a sad disappointment to Margaret, as well as myself, if you are not present at our wedding. It is Margaret's first request in my behalf; it may be it will be my last."

Guy's voice dropped; a thought would haunt him, in spite of a soldier's love of active duty, that this gleam of brightness, after such a long over

cast sky, could but be the foretaste of that future brighter Heaven which is in store for all who bravely do their best to overcome evil, and which perhaps even now might be awaiting him.

The trembling lip, and ashy cheek, and moist eye, did more to unlock Ralph's old love than a thousand words. He came up to his old friend; one hand rested on Katie's shoulder, the other was stretched out to Vyvian.

“Guy,” he said warmly, "forgive my hasty temper. I frankly own to you that I have hated you with a bitter hatred, which has grieved Margaret, and often made shame burn my own cheeks, when I tried to preach forgiveness to others."

"Vyvian, I cannot join you," Ralph said, when they had talked it all over; and by degrees he found himself insensibly lapsing into his longforgotten tones of familiarity with his boyhood's friend. "This funeral at Grafton, and the circumstances which make me chief mourner, preclude the possibility of such a thing. Moreover, I could not be a guest at Lord Redenham's. But to convince you that Margaret's interests are my first care,—that I fully and freely acknowledge you my brother,—I will be with Margaret at Portsmouth when you set sail. She will perhaps want me more then than she does now."