again before his death; thus I never could tell him all I felt. Then it was that I resolved-nothing more -that no strange foot should tread within these walls again. I have a regular establishment of old domestics. They have all they want, they can go and come as they like, I afford them every luxury; but none of them retain their old names. No, the outer world was to be no more to me; I, as it were, made up a little one for myself within these walls, and named each one as my fancy directed. To-morrow I shall show you where I pass my leisure hours, or rather, I should say, where most of my time is spent. You have heard all, Mr. Fernmore, or nearly all. Can you wonder that I welcome you and make an exception in your favour? Your father gave me the promise I asked; will you do the same now?'

I answered without hesitation; in my inmost heart I sympathised with him at that moment. He must have read my thoughts, for he said, 'I see that you can feel for an oid man's sorrow. I shall put aside ceremony; why should I practise it with the son of my best friend? Let me call you Edward, and old days will seem to come back once again. Now, you promise that, while you remain here, or after you have gone, you will in no way take advantage of anything you hear or see within these walls? In a word, in relation to all within them, you will never act without my knowledge or consent?'

I saw his meaning; I knew now who Mabel was-the second Mabel. Even to gain her love, I could not at that moment have withheld the promise.

'I am satisfied,' he said. "You remain here as my guest, no longer on sufferance, waiting to be healed to take your departure. I would know more of you before we part. There is one duty of the host which

I cannot perform, and you cuse it.

will ex

My resolution forbids me to sit with you at table; in all else consider yourself my guest. Doubtless you desire to communicate with your mother; I heard that you spoke of her while you were ill. Writing materials will be supplied to you. Tell her, with the compliments of a recluse,' he added with extreme affability, that you are treated as a Christian here; but no details, Edward; remember your promise. You are tired, I see that you are. To-morrow at noon I will show you what will both please and interest you.'

We parted for the night. Not a word of Mabel. It was clear that I was to be kept in ignorance of her residence in the castle; yet I saw that my promise had been asked as a sort of safeguard lest I might see her.

At noon the next day I was again conducted by the same servant to Lord Arnley's room. He met me as if he had known me for a long time. His manner was graciousmore, it was so friendly, that I felt no longer in the presence of a stranger.

"I intend to be your physician, Edward,' he said. 'Old Mar declares that you are well enough to travel, while, in my opinion, you are not fit to bear any fatigue. A stroll in the grounds will refresh you. I will accompany you, and show you what I promised yesterday.'

We walked out on the terrace through the open window. The air was light, while it was full of the perfume from the beds of flowers by which we were passing. At a little distance from the terrace there was a miniature lake ofgreat beauty, close to which was a rustic summerhouse, its exterior covered with branching creepers, while rose-trees hung over the entrance. Within were inviting-looking seats, round

a table well supplied with books. Although Lord Arnley led me to it, his manner was embarrassed, as he said, 'Rather picturesque, is it not? Yet I seldom use it.'

'Just the place for Mabel,' I thought.

He hurried from it, and seemed more at ease a little farther on. We entered a plantation, beyond which I saw a high wall with a large door. When we reached it he rang a bell, and in an instant the door was opened. After crossing a spacious hall, we entered a small sittingroom plainly furnished, and having at one end a long bookcase with three or four rows of shallow drawers below the shelves. He opened a few of these in succession, and showed me that they contained a beautiful collection of minerals from every part of the world, some of them dull and heavy, others sparkling with clusters of brilliant crystals. Below each was a neatlywritten label, giving the name of the specimen and an account of its composition. The books on the shelves above were standard works on chemistry and its kindred sciences, by the leading writers on those subjects in England, France, and Germany. He took down one or two, and, opening them, pointed to the few words written on the flyleaf, which showed that they were the gifts of the authors.

'You see,' he said, with a smile, 'I am not so secluded at Arnley Castle as to be cut off from corresponding with those who take an interest in the same pursuits as I do.'

I stayed some time, looking over drawer after drawer of his cabinet, for I could see that he was pleased at my doing so. At length he proposed that we should turn into his workshop, as he called the wellfurnished laboratory which we next entered. It was a room of considerable size, lighted by a skylight,

which was half open when we came in. Along one side there were a number of small brick-built furnaces, on which were large earthenware and metal retorts; one of these was lighted, and an old servant was busy preparing another. At the opposite end was a huge table, and the shelves running along the walls were covered with an immense collection of chemical apparatus. A glance told me that it was the laboratory of a hard-working skilful chemist; and Lord Arnley appeared to be quite at home among his retorts and furnaces, for he began at once to speak to me of an investigation in which he was then engaged, and, with the desire of showing me how he occupied his time, went to work at once, with the old servant's aid, explaining to me the various complex processes as he went on. When we had spent about half an hour in this way-and it passed very rapidly, for his interest in his favourite pursuit seemed quite contagious again into the garden.

we went out

'You see now how I pass my time,' he said, as the door was closed after us and we turned away.

There, labouring in the cause of science, I often forget all my fears, troubles, and anxieties.'

He was still speaking on the subject when we left the plantation and approached the summer-house. Suddenly I saw the flowers round the entrance stirred, and a small white hand plucked one. In the same instant Mabel stepped out. She saw us, started back, and was hidden from view. I looked at Lord Arnley, I could not help it, and his usually pale face was crimson in a moment. He clasped his hands; and years may pass on, but I shall never forget his look of agony. From my soul I felt for him. His years far outnumbered mine, but, as if he were the younger, I took his clasped hand and said,

'I shall not betray you, my lord; I shall keep my promise. I have seen your granddaughter before this moment, when she was not aware that I saw her.'

He turned from the arbour, and leant on my arm as he walked on a few steps.

'Spoken like your father!' he said. Can I be blamed for wishing to guard my second Mabel? Let us return to the castle,' he added, in a dejected tone. For once neither of us looked towards the summer-house in passing. When we reached his room he said, 'An hour hence return to me, Edward; meantime order luncheon.'

That hour seemed as long as three. What would its termination bring to me? I believe I was knocking at Lord Arnley's door when the last minute of it was passing. He had quite recovered his self-possession; he was even cheer

ful.

'I have thought,' he said, 'very deeply for more than half an hour, Edward, and after so much reflection, I feel quite convinced that Providence ruled that you should visit Arnley Castle. Old Mar is anxious to make your acquaintance out of the sick-room.'

'And I am anxious to see him,' I replied, to express my thanks for his attention to me, and, above all, for having picked me up by the wayside.'

'Well, come to the next room; I shall be able to gratify you, I think.'

On the opposite side of the large hall he opened a door, and bade me enter. 'Here come the green glasses,' I thought. But no! On a low ottoman by an open window sat Mabel Lynn, her head bent over a book, which she seemed intent on reading-so intent, that she did not notice our entrance; but I saw, from whatever cause it was, that her face and neck were be

coming crimson, and, when Lord Arnley called 'Mabel,' she stood up, looking a picture of confusion. He introduced me formally to her, and, as he said the words, she seemed to recover her self-control. She bowed low, but, as she took her seat again, she looked quickly at me-our eyes met. A thousand times might she call me a poor wretch, yet would I believe in my inmost heart that Mabel Lynn was not indifferent to me.

Lord Arnley's ease of manner soon set all right. We spoke without reserve of my providential escape and of our visit of the morning, and, finally, Dr. Mar was sent for. In one way only could I recognise the doctor of the sick-room -he still wore the green glasses; but his manner was so affable, that he did not seem to be the same person. He gave us a very graphic account of his finding me insensible on the road. I could have laughed

yes, heartily-at the style in which it was related, but for the sacrifice of the poor fellow's life of whose services I had availed myself that morning. When my visit to Mabel's drawing-room ended, I went back to my own room, after receiving an invitation from Lord Arnley to spend the evening with him and Mabel.

'Edward,' he said, 'I have placed more confidence in you than in any other man living. I did so first for your father's sake, for your own too.'

I did not reply, but pressed his hand as we parted; and I could not help noticing that the sad expression on his face was changing to a happy smile.

Two weeks had passed, and on the next day I was to leave the castle-I was so strong and well that there was no cause for prolonging my visit-two weeks in which were hours and days of bliss

too high, too enrapturing, to be set forth in formal words. Mabel Lynn's heart was mine; at no distant day her hand would be mine also, and all this with the knowledge and sanction of Lord Arnley.

I said I was to leave the castle next day. Mabel and I lingered in the garden. The calm subdued light of sunset fell on all around, imparting yet more loveliness to the scene. Her hand rested in mine.

'Mabel,' I said, 'I have one question yet to ask you.'

'Another!' she said, with her sweet musical laugh.

'Yes; and I dread to ask it.'

The expression of her face became serious. 'Dread!' she repeated. 'Edward, do you associate fear with Mabel Lynn?'

'Mabel, dear Mabel, do not look anxious; but I cannot get rid of an unpleasant recollection connected with the time when I was convalescent.'

'Do say it at once, Edward!' she exclaimed. 'I thought all was open and candid between us.'

We were sitting on one of the seats in the arbour.

'Mabel,' I said, 'do you remember a remark you made on the day when you brought me paper to write to my mother? It pained me then; even now, in these happy moments, it sometimes comes to

me and throws a shadow over me.'

'What is it?' she asked, looking anxiously into my face.

You said,' I began, that it was better to dabble in vinegar-andwater than to let a poor wretch die.'

The very castle walls seemed to reëcho the sound of her merry laugh. When she could compose herself, she said, 'Ah, I see you felt little hurt at being called a wretch. Are you happy now, Edward?' she asked suddenly.

'Happy! I repeated. Can you ask me that, Mabel?'

'Then you may date your happiness from the moment when I called you a poor wretch. Listen, Edward. You looked so sad, so weak, that I pitied you; you told me to unsay the words that we should not meet again. You were a stranger. I was extremely near showing you my feelings, so I said something that I could laugh at, and that would test you a little at the same time. Are you satisfied?' she said, with a charming arch look. 'If I had made a fool of myself that day, and let the tears start to my eyes, you never would have seen Mabel Lynn again.'

Three months after, Lord Arnley gave into my possession the greatest treasure he possessed. He has left his seclusion, and has been more than once at Fernmore Hall.

EDUCATE, educate, educate! that is the common cry of all who think themselves thinkers, especially amongst our higher classes. But what do they mean by education? Teaching child, youth, or man duty to his God, his neighbour, or himself? Telling him of another world, and how to get there happily, by making the best of this one? Leading him to patience through faith, to industry and good morals by the argument of grateful service to his Maker, and showing him how all the troubles of life have their good purposes, and will issue in victory to those who fight their battle manfully? And (with that view chiefly) instructing him in the old-fashioned 'three R.s' the arts of reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic? Not a bit of all this: modern education must by no means be so absurdly elementary or so narrow, but must give all that the go-by; in particular nothing religious, if you please; so no Bible-reading; very little theological or dogmatically moral; these ideas are obsolete, absurdly antiquated; no, we now are of Mr. Buckle's creed,

even

'Who believes in all the gases
As the means to raise the masses.'

Everybody,wholesale and in droves, is to be made an artist, a musician, a linguist, and a philosopher-quite irrespectively of native genius or comparative suitabilities in station and condition; all society must be forced upward to a higher level; and a great wind-bag-swelled by Mr. Buckle's aforesaid gases of pride, vainglory, idleness, and selfindulgence-must be the quasi-va

cuum whereon elevated humanity is fancied to upraise itself.

We train up a child nowadays not to labour contentedly, as heretofore, in 'the state of life to which his Maker has pleased to call him,' but perpetually to be aiming at something far beyond his sphere; to struggle up a tree, and not toil and moil in the dirty furrow of his forefather's digging: no future chawbacons for us no mere hedgers and ditchers, no uninquiring rustics, no ploughmen incurious as the steers they goad, no plodding and unselfish faithful humble service-this unintelligent sort of existence will not suit us now. Everybody must be taught a little of everything, except indeed his own bounden duty to God and man. That must be left for evolution to a man's own unaided inner consciousness. Stuff his memory rather with facts, experiments, dates, and illustrations; fill his mind with a hash of all the ologies; make your clown, by attendance upon lectures, imagine himself a philosopher; your lout, flattered at Penny Readings or for his tenor voice in the choir, fancy himself a gentleman; push them all somehow to a semblance of that higher level which rank and wealth have hitherto monopolised. Why should any citizen of this free and happy land be for the future a mere digger or a dustman, a costermonger or a chimney-sweep?— nay, a cook, or a housemaid, or a servant of all or any work? Let machinery do all these needfuls here, and suffer not the majesty of man to be degraded by slavish labour! Educate every urchin into