On the morning following Mrs. Arrowsmith's departure, Elizabeth received a letter that distressed and alarmed her. It was from Ted, telling her that he was in a hole. That he owed money to the bank, and that unless she could help him out of his difficulties before the end of the week, he would be dismissed and ruined. As she sat weeping over this letter, wondering how in the world she would manage to save the poor boy, Sybil Bindon entered the room, and in a sudden burst of confidence, which she regretted the next moment, Elizabeth poured forth the whole sad story.

"And the worst of it is, I have only about half the money," she sobbed," and Uncle Mike is not in a position to give me the rest, I know. And oh! they will all grieve and be so disgraced if Ted is dismissed from the bank. Poor Ted! he's wild and harum-scarum-but such a nice boy."

"Let me give you the money. I have plenty-and would be so pleased"

No, no, thank you, no!" Elizabeth grew white and red, and a sudden terror seized her. She had betrayed her cousin to this stranger. Oh, what a stupid, unkind creature she had been! But nothing she told herself would induce her to accept money from Sybil Bindon. To do so, would be treating her as a friend, and well she knew in spite of her apparent kindness in offering her this money that the girl hated her, and looked upon her as an enemy. Under those circumstances, she felt that to accept such a favour from her would be wrong and impossible. And yet had Elizabeth humbled herself and allowed Sybil to help her out of her difficulty much good might have been done, and the fact that this loan had been given and accepted, would have lessened the cruel and damning suspicions which were so soon to gather round her, and ruin her happiness.

"You'd better not refuse a good thing when it is offered," Sybil said, with a light laugh. "I'm not always so generous, I assure you."

"I will not trouble you, thanks," Elizabeth replied stiffly. "I have some money, and can sell one or two little things to make up the rest. I'd rather do it all myself."

"Pawn you diamonds."

Elizabeth fleshed and seemed about to speak. Then suddenly, gathering up her letters, she ran out of the room. "Little idiot!" cried Sybil Bindon angrily.

So it's to be war, after all. Well," flinging herself on a sofa, "all right, she'll perhaps be sorry some day. However,"-shrugging her shoulders-" it makes things easier for me, and may help me to get her away."

That evening Elizabeth received two letters, one from Mrs. Arrowsmith, announcing her return accompanied by her broken hearted Flora early next morning. The other from Charles, pouring forth all his hopes and prayers for the future, and begging her to be his wife. This, her first love-letter, filled the girl with an immense joy, and for some time all her troubles and worries were forgotten. One thing in her lover's rapturous epistle saddened her for a moment, and brought tears to her eyes. That was the fact that he was detained for a week in London on business. "But after that, mine own," he wrote, "we'll have a happy time together, and it will only remain for you to name the wedding-day. The man who absconded taking with him so many thousands from my office has been found, and before very long all the money will be refunded. So we shall be able to begin comfortably. My darling shall have a home worthy of her."

Her heart throbbing with happiness, Elizabeth pressed his dear signature to her lips, and without delay, sat down and wrote him a loving, tender little letter, promising to be his wife and to love him faithfully till the end of her life. This written and posted, with a painful pang at her heart, she remembered poor Ted, and in all haste sent him a note enclosing five pounds, all that remained to her of her half-year's salary, and assuring him that she would take the remaining ten to him very soon, when by selling some little pieces of jewellery she would be able to get the money. This she could not do, however, till after Mrs. Arrowsmith's return, when she hoped to get to town for a day.

"

'I'm afraid those two brooches aren't worth much," she thought, examining her various treasures. "But they're all I have to dispose of. To sell my pearls would be impossible. Dear, oh dear, what a pity I haven't something like that cross of Mrs. Arrowsmith's. That would be worth selling now."

The return of the mistress of the house with her married daughter, Flora Gibbons, caused a flutter of excitement that was anything but unpleasant, after so many dull and uninteresting days. Elizabeth, servants and visitors were all delighted to see the travellers, and flew hither and thither anxious to show them every attention, and minister to their wants.

As they settled down quietly in their rooms to rest, Lottie declaring that she was going to stay with her mother all day, Elizabeth asked leave to go up to Dublin for two or three hours.

"Well,

"Dublin?" Mrs. Arrowsmith looked up in surprise. really you are in a hurry. What on earth do you want rushing

off to Dublin, the very instant I get home. I've hardly seen you, Betty."

Betty flushed to her eyes. "I have some pressing business to do. And you are tired. We'll have a long chat when Lottie goes to bed this evening, and I can have you to myself.” "Very well, dear. I suppose you must go. You must tell me all about your business when you come home again.”

Elizabeth's colour faded, and her eyes grew sad.

"No, dear Mrs. Arrowsmith. I hope you will not ask me to do that-as-as-it does not altogether concern myself."

"Well, I'm not curious"-and smiling, "I think I may trust you, Betty."

"I hope so." A deep blush now dyed Betty's cheeks crimson. "She doesn't know yet," she thought. "Charles has told her nothing. Oh! what will she say? What will she say?" And she turned quickly away, overcome with emotion, and slipped out of the room.

"There's something odd about Elizabeth to-day," thought Mrs. Arrowsmith, looking after her. "She starts and trembles at every word. Has Betty been well, Lottie ?"

"Oh! all right," answered Lottie carelessly, her whole mind absorbed in a new doll from London. "just as she always is."

"I can't think that," Mrs. Arrowsmith murmured. "She looks to me like a person with something on her mind. I wonder if she and Sybil Bindon quarrelled much."

"I hate Sybil Bindon," Lottie said with decision, looking up from her doll. "She's an inquisitive, prying cat."

"Hush! Lottie, for shame! I never heard such language. It's most unlady-like."

"But true," Lottie answered unabashed. "She was always poking about in the rooms. Why, I found her in here, just up at your dressing-table, one day. Jolly cheek I call it. And then she offered me a box of chocolates-a lovely blue satin box-if I wouldn't tell."

"You didn't take it, I hope, for, if so, you've behaved very badly."

Not likely. I told her I'd tell, and she laughed and said you wouldn't object to her looking round the old house, she knew, and she didn't care whether I told you or not. But she did all the same, I felt certain."

"Oh! you know too much," said her mother with a little laugh. But she was right. I am glad she went over the house; and if you had been a polite girl you'd have told her so, and shown her all there was worth showing."

She's no friend of mine." Lottie shook out her doll's frock. "Punch liked her far better than I did. He told her about the secret hiding-place and showed her the old well. I wouldn't, I can tell you."

"I don't like your tone, Lottie. It is extremely pert." Lottie pouted, but made no reply. She was sorry to have vexed her mother. But nothing would induce her to say anything nice about Sybil Bindon. She had heard her speakunkindly, upon several occasions to her beloved Elizabeth. This, in Lottie's eyes, was an unpardonable offence.

CHAPTER XIV

ELIZABETH spent a depressing and tiring afternoon in Dublin. She was deeply grieved to part with her jewellery, which had belonged to her mother, and was for that reason very dear to her loving little heart. But Teddy must be saved at all costs. This good-natured, rather heedless young cousin had always been her favourite, and for his sake she was willing to make the sacrifice of the few treasures that belonged to her.

"I'll pawn them and redeem them again as soon as ever I can," she told herself. So it will only mean parting with them for a little while." And for the first time in her life, she shyly made her way into a big shop with three golden balls hanging over the door.

The man behind the counter was very civil. Fascinated by her sweet, bashful manner, he waited on her with alacrity, and telling her, to her surprise, that the brooches were quite worth what she asked for them, because of the delicate workmanship of their antique setting, he handed her eleven pounds.

Delighted, Elizabeth thanked him profusely, bade him good afternoon, and hurried out of the shop.

Teddy Tiernan met her by appointment at Mitchell's in Grafton Street, and with much emotion and heartfelt gratitude, received the money, swearing that he would pay her back in regular instalments out of his salary as soon as possible.

"You're a brick-an absolute brick, Betty," he cried, and I'll never forget this to you. Come what Come what may, I'm your friend for ever."

Betty smiled. She knew poor Ted meant every word he said, but she could not help thinking that he would not be a friend upon whom one could rely with anything like security.

"He means well, and is a dear, lovable fellow," she thought.

"But, thank God, I shall not want much assistance from him. Charles, my best beloved, will be all the friend I shall ever require."

"The Governor's awfully down on his luck." Ted remarked, pocketing his ten pounds. "I didn't dare to ask him for a farthing-and I was in a bad hole. It's hard work living as a bank clerk, Bet."

"I'm sure it is. Your salary is wretched. Perhaps by and by you may get into something better."

Perhaps. But the chance is small, unless "-his dark eyes lighting up suddenly-" Uncle Terence were to turn up trump after all. If you become an heiress, Betty, you won't forget me?"

"No, Ted, you may be sure of that. Now come and have some tea." And she sat down at a little table, her face flushing brightly, her heart giving a quick bound of pleasure, as it flashed through her mind, that without waiting for Uncle Terence, his uncertain return, and fortune, she might before very long be able to put Teddy into some better place, in which to earn his bread. At a word from her, Charles would be sure to help him, and smiling happily, she began to pour out the tea.

town and-and all I have "Then, I'm anxious about my engagement to Charles. I

Though satisfied that she had done a good afternoon's work, and that her advice and words of encouragement were likely to sink into Teddy's mind and make him take life more seriously, Elizabeth felt weary and very low-spirited as she walked slowly up the drive to Rathkieran. An unaccountable sensation of uneasiness, a feeling of approaching trouble that she could not understand, weighed upon her heavily. "I'm tired-after my trip to gone through," she told herself. what Mrs. Arrowsmith will say to He'll have to tell her at once when he comes back. hate talking to her, and meeting her affectionate and trusting eyes, till she knows. Yet I dare not speak. He must do that. And now, as soon as I have taken off my boots and things, I must dress quickly for dinner, and go to her. We'll have time for a nice, long talk. I am anxious to know what Mr. Gibbons has promised to do about Uncle Terence. Australia is, of course, a large country. But by making inquiries he might perhaps hear something that would lead to our discovering him. It is a forlorn hope, but still I cling to it. My poor, dear wanderer, oh! if he could but hear some news of you!

As the girl stood before the glass, putting the finishing touches to her toilet for dinner, Mrs. Arrowsmith's maid opened the door, and came slowly in. She looked scared and white,