now rest upon a happy family group.

There is a stately

looking mother, with surely the same eyes and mouth as that dreamy-faced girl who has vanished; the same brow, but for wrinkles; the same hair, but for silver threads; a son, with a great deal of the delicate nobility of that mother in his countenance, mixed with much of the sunny geniality of the father who has passed away, and a girl with bright eyes and a merry tongue, standing beside and between them. All pleasant things are round them in their castle among the hills. And if into the midst of this happy group and into the heart of this peaceful home, Lady Humphrey should be planning to introduce her lonely friendless Hester, who could venture to call her cruel or unkind?

How are you going to do it, Lady Humphrey? It is long since you had any intercourse with the Munros. They have no happy memories of you, nor you of them. How, then, will you establish a stranger at their fireside, to listen at the key-holes of their locked closet doors, and report to you the secrets of their lives? Lady Humphrey does not see as yet how it shall be, but she knows that she will find a way to do it. And in the meantime the drops outside patter on, and Hester has not yet arrived, is still tripping gladly through the rain and the flowers, hastening to put her foot in Lady Humphrey's trap, to enlist herself unconsciously as a spy in Lady Humphrey's service. Ireland is but a name to her, and the troubles which she has heard spoken of as thickening in the island are no more to her than colourless dreams. Yet even at this moment she is running through the darkness towards Ireland; her arms are extended to it, her heart is opening to take it in, the glare of terrible scenes is reflected in her face. It has been already decreed by an unscrupulous will that she is to crush, despoil, suffer, and perhaps die there, before another year of her young life shall be spent.

How shall Lady Humphrey work her will? Is there not one in all that sunny hill-country where her youth was passed to whom she can appeal, out of the fullness of a benevolent heart, for assistance in her scheme of rescuing an innocent and industrious orphan girl from the dangers of a friendless life in London? Can she not write to Lady Helen Munro, who has reason to remember her well? Ah, no; that were too dangerous a venture. Well, then, there is a brave, bright face looking out from among trees somewhere, a face that Lady Humphrey can never have forgotten, in which all the world of the simplehearted and the straight-minded put involuntary trust. Why not enlist the sympathy of Mrs. Hazledean, the doctor's wife ?

That were still more impossible. Those good bright eyes are of the few things ever feared by Judith Humphrey in her youthful days.

Why, then, there is the little convent on the hill. Bethink you, my lady, in your solitary chamber, after all the years of forgetfulness that have gone by, of the silver bell dropping down its homely hints about prayer to the simple people of the village, about forgiveness before the going down of the sun. There are gentle souls within those whitewashed walls, too busy with the ailments of their poor to be not easily deceived by a pretty tale of mercy. Why not write them such a letter as you can write, and have them singing praises to heaven that so noble a heart as yours has remained unspoiled in the wicked world? Ay, if the mother abbess, who was a friend to the pale-haired Judith in her girlhood, were dead, this might be done. 'Tis true she is an aged woman now, but she has not yet descended to take possession of her appointed corner in the little graveyard beside the sea. Are there not yet many others in this neighbourhood whose assistance might be sought in so creditable an enterprise? Yes; but from the questions Lady Humphrey has been putting to herself this hour past, and the answers she has been finding at the bottom of her heart, it would seem as if every door, even the lowliest in the village, must have a bar placed across it at the approach of the shadow of Judith Blake. Lady Humphrey must leave this difficulty to Time, or the future inspirations of her own ingenuity, for here is Hester's step upon the stair.

And Hester must be welcomed now, wooed, won over to have confidence and faith in her benefactress. Accordingly there is a pretty pleasant chamber prepared, gaily lighted, with the rain shut out, where chocolate, and cakes, and fruit are set forth to propitiate this child of eighteen years. And, in truth, it seems to Hester that some good fairy must have suddenly taken her destiny in hand, when she sees Lady Humphrey coming forth to meet her, her hand extended, and a smile upon her seldom-smiling face.

"I think it will be too rainy to go to London in the morning," said Lady Humphrey, and she took off Hester's dripping bonnet, and tapped her on her wet rosy cheeks, and dared to look playfully in her wondering eyes.

"Yes, Lady Humphrey," said Hester; " at least, if you wish me to stay."

"And I do wish you to stay, you little sceptic!" said Lady Humphrey. "Why else should I have sent for you all the way to Richmond? It was only to try you that I sent you out in the rain, all alone.”

"To try me?" repeated Hester.

"To try what you were made of," said Lady, Humphrey, provoked at the girl's quiet amazement. She had counted upon more effusion, more gratitude and delight, from the fervent little Hester of other days. She forgot how the fervour had been crushed by her own will, that the other days were gone, and that important years had passed over Hester's head, of the experiences of which she knew nothing.

"Only to try what you were made of," said Lady Humphrey. "To find out whether you had a spirit of your own, were proud and independent as I should wish to see you. Your behaviour has been perfect, and I am now quite content."

Hester's wet garments were clinging to her, but her thoughts did not reproach Lady Hunphrey for having put her to an uncomfortable test. She only said mechanically, still lost in her wonder:

"I am glad you are content, Lady Humphrey."

"And I am glad that you are glad," said the lady. "You and I must become better friends. I intend that you shall be my visitor here for some time. You shall do as you please, and we will send away all this satin to Mrs. Gossamer to be finished by other hands. I will take you to the theatre, and we will buy some pretty frocks. And now," finished Lady Humphrey, not being able to think of any other tempting bait which she could hold out upon the moment-" now I think you had better eat your supper, and go to bed. And we will talk of a great many other things in the morning."

Hester did as she was bidden, not, however, without some rueful regrets about Baby Johhny and a drive to London. The memory of her chill reception still clung round her, as pertinaciously as the wet cloak round her shoulders. She was too much taken by surprise to be ready to make an effort to forget it. She would forget it in time, if permitted to do so, but this kindness of Lady Humphrey was so new and curious, and Lady Humphrey's appearance agreed with it so badly, that Hester's poor wits were astray with trying to comprehend the sudden change.

"I wonder what she wants with me," was Hester's first thought, after the shock of the surprise was over. It never struck her that such a reflection was ungracious. That Lady Humphrey after all these lonely years of neglect, had drawn her to her side again from an impulse of compassion or tenderness, was a belief that must be slow to enter Hester's mind. She had been well grounded by the lady herself in the conviction that she was a creature to be put away out of sight, or drawn forth and

made use of, according to the emergency of the moment. Picked up and put down, called out and sent back again, it was thus that Lady Humphrey's will had been wrought on her; and surely Lady Humphrey was Lady Humphrey still.

So Hester sat on the corner of her pretty bed, and had her wonders all to herself. Once more, suddenly, she found herself surrounded with the bright dainty things she had loved so long ago. Here were the same silken hangings; the pictures; the chair with the little low seat, and the tall carved back. She went round the room on tiptoe, touching her old friends, and making sure she was awake. "But how long will it last?" said Hester, sighing; "how long will it last? And I had rather," she soliloquised further, shaking her fair head at the flame of the candle, "I had rather go back at once with that satin to the workroom than sit waiting here for her anger or her coldness to return. And I will never be her dependent, so long as my fingers can hold a needle."

These were Hester's first impulses of feeling about this change; dread and distrust. Further on, towards morning, however, when the rain had ceased, and Lady Humphrey was asleep, other thoughts grew out of the night and took their place. Rest and comfort did their work, and brought gratitude and peace. And Hester fell asleep thanking God that Lady Humphrey was Lady Humphrey no longer.

Every day after this was a surprise to Hester; a pleasure, a trouble, a confusion. Most strange it was to see how Lady Humphrey's good humour lasted; most strange to feel the effort it cost her to be kind; almost fearful the determination with which the difficulty was conquered. The frown would loom out, but the smile was always ready to shine it down. The voice, involuntarily harsh, would smooth itself. The hand was ever generously open. But the bounty crushed Hester, and the caresses made her fear.

Yet what was there she could fear from Lady Humphrey ? Nothing worse than to be sent back to Mrs. Gossamer and the workroom. A needle in her fingers gave her courage. And in the mean-while it was pleasant to play the lady for a time, with the long day all leisure, and the gardens and the pictures close at hand.

So Lady Humphrey was pleased with her own success

CHAPTER VI

HOW HESTER WAS TAKEN TO A BALL

Ir seemed as if Fate took that puzzle of Lady Humphrey's in hand; with a few simple shakes and touches made the pieces fit together, and dropped it in all simplicity into the lady's lap.

When Pierce Humphrey came out, and found Hester at Hampton Court, he was pleased, astonished, confounded, at the recollection of his own ill temper. And it pleased his mother now, that he, Pierce, should be attentive to and gentle with little Hester; that he should present her with a rose, write her a valentine, play chess with her the length of an evening (his heart being safe all the time with his Janet at Glenluce). But it would be no harm at all if simple Hester should remember him at parting with kindness. Any link that could help to bind the girl to herself, however indirectly, must be forged at any cost, without delay.

It would be nothing to Lady Humphrey if Hester should go to Ireland with a pain at her heart. And Pierce was (as his mother knew well) a young man who could take a fancy to any good thing that came across his way, and pass on with a little look backward and a sigh of sentiment, and love the next sweet thing just as freely as the first. And the next after that again had quite as good a chance as the rest, and it must hang upon little things, as trifling as the accidental (or artful) holding out of a hand, the chance passing by a door, whether the first or the last should know the permanent enjoyment of the tender hospitality of that softest amongst the hearts of mankind. So Pierce, with a fiancée in Ireland, whose sudden desertion had cost him throes of unexampled anguish, devoted himself most easily and naturally to Hester, his little nurse of other days-the seamstress and dressmaker-the young lady on a visit with his mother at Hampton Court.

And Hester? Well, even as a child, she had found herself disappointed in him, and in the truth of her nature had not refrained from avowing it. Neither did she approve of him now. But she was driven to him often for companionship and sympathy, and this last she found plentiful at least, of its kind. She liked him, admired him, in as far as there was anything to admire; her heart warmed to him as the only one who had ever as yet come near bringing her love. She would have soothed him in a trouble as she would have soothed Baby