was ready to depart, 'I propose we go and have a little supper.'

'No, thank you,' said Lizzie, in a decided tone, not at all softened by the evidence of Mr. Sheldrake's magnanimity.

Mr. Sheldrake bit his lip.

'You speak for all,' he said.

'I think so,' replied Lizzie, gazing at him steadily. Lily will not go without me, and of course Alfred must see me home.'

'Why won't you accept Mr. Sheldrake's invitation, Liz ?' asked Alfred uneasily.

'Daddy is waiting up for me,' she replied, and we have a long way to go. And besides, Lily is And besides, Lily is unwell.'

For one instant, Mr. Sheldrake hesitated; the next, he accepted the position.

'Well, it's of no use trying to persuade you. A wilful woman will have her way. How do you propose we shall go home?' he asked of Lizzie in a tone of sarcastic politeness. 'Your way is different from ours.'

Lizzie decided this without hesitation. They would all go in one cab, and drop Lily at the door of her grandfather's house in Soho, and then Alfred should see Lizzie home. Mr. Sheldrake made no demur to her suggestion, and the party drove from the theatre. But he stopped the cab at the corner of the little street in Soho, and said. that the driver need not turn, as he could see Lily the few yards she had to go. He jumped out of the cab, and said to Alfred,

"By the bye, Alf, I want to say a word or two to you. The girls

will excuse us for a moment.'

Alfred and he walked half-adozen steps from the cab, and then he turned upon Alfred, and asked what was the meaning of Lizzie's behaviour.

I don't know,' replied Alfred;

'I never saw her in such a humour before.'

'She'd better not show herself off often in the same light,' said Mr. Sheldrake, in a threatening tone, or she and I may quarrel. I'm not in the humour to be trifled with. Let her know this; and the sooner she knows it the better.'

'I hope you don't think I am to blame for what has occurred.'

'I haven't stopped to think. When a man's made mad as I've been to-night, he doesn't think of much else but the cause. Look here, Alfred, I don't want to pry into your secrets, my boy, and I don't want to spoil your love-making. You know best whether I've been a friend to you or not-'

'You have been,' interrupted Alfred eagerly; ‘a true friend !'

'Well, then, I'm not going to be made to look small by any sweetheart of yours. I've nothing to say against Lizzie; but she mustn't come any of her tricks with me. Now, you've got some control over her, I don't doubt. She'll heed what you say. Take my advice. Tell her to be more civil to me for the future. If she isn't-'here he paused, and gave Alfred a significant look

well, if she isn't, I might turn rusty. And that might be awkward for you, Alf.'

There was no mistaking his meaning, and Alfred's heart sickened at the threat conveyed in the words. It suited Mr. Sheldrake not to notice Alfred's discomposure, and they returned to the cab in silence.

I'll walk with you, Lily,' said Lizzie, as Mr. Sheldrake held out his hand to assist Lily from the cab; it's only a few steps, and the cab can wait.'

But Mr. Sheldrake put a restraining hand upon her arm.

'I can see Miss Lily safely to her door,' he said politely. You have a long way to go, and Mr. Musgrave is waiting up for you, you

said. It's very late, and you'd best be moving. Eh, Alfred ?

Yes, yes,' returned Alfred hurGoodriedly; 'we must rattle on. night, Lil dear. Good-night, Mr. Sheldrake. I'll see you to-morrow some time.'

Mr. Sheldrake raised his hat to Lizzie, and the cab drove away. For a few moments neither Lizzie nor Alfred spoke. Their thoughts were not in unison. But Lizzie, the more gentle nature of the two, presently crept close to Alfred and placed her hand in his. He threw it from him angrily. She resented this at first, and shrank from him; but a better feeling came upon her soon, and she asked:

'What have I done, Alfred, that you behave in this manner to me?' 'Done! he repeated, with bitter emphasis. Been the ruin of me,

I shouldn't wonder !'

'Alfred!'

It makes speak of I am the

'Because I displeased him?' 'Yes, because of you. me sick to think of it, to it. I wish I was dead! most miserable wretch in the world! If it were not for you and Lily, I think I should make away with myself.'

'Don't speak like that, Alf,' said Lizzie, placing her arm tenderly around him; it breaks my heart to see you so unhappy. I know you love me and Lily. And you ought to be sure that we are better friends to you than Mr. Sheldrake can be, and that we would do more for you if it was in our power.' If it was in your 'That's it. power. But it isn't, and it is in Mr. Sheldrake's; and he has behaved like a true friend to me.'

Sometimes I ask myself why, 'What is his Alfred,' said Lizzie. motive?"

'I know that you are prejudiced against him; and that's the reason you suspect him, and can't be civil to him. You think he wouldn't do me a kindness without a motive ?'

'I am sure he wouldn't,' said Lizzie firmly; and I am sure of another thing-that you, in your heart, do not like him. I wish you had never seen him.'

'I wish I hadn't,' groaned Alfred.

'And yet you have told me he was your best friend, Alfred,' said Lizzie.

'Don't badger me, Liz, for God's sake! I am almost torn to pieces, as it is. You ought to comfort me,

and try and make things better for me.'

'Ah, if I could! If I knew how to, how gladly would I! Why not confide entirely in me, Alf? Who can have a better right to your confidence than the girl that loves you with all her heart and soul?—as I do, Alf, my dear! Come now, tell me all. Who knows? Something good may come of it. What's your trouble?'

'Money.'

'Yes, I know that; and that you owe Mr. Sheldrake more than you can pay. Tell me how it all came about, dear.'

So by many little endearing ways she coaxed him to tell her the whole of his miserable story. How, excited by the glowing accounts in the papers of the easy manner in which fortunes could be made on the turf, he had commenced to bet, a few shillings at the time at first; how he attended races, and how one unfortunate day he won a few pounds, and came home flushed with the idea that he had found the philosopher's stone; how little by little he had been led on, with the inevitable result of losing more than he could afford; how on one important race, when the prophets and tipsters in every one of the papers had declared-in such glowing and confident terms that it was impossible to resist the temptation of making a bold plunge for fortune that a certain horse could not possibly lose, he had used money which did not belong to him; and how the horse came in last instead of first.

'I had to make up that money, of course,' he continued; 'I had to get it somehow; and I did get it never mind in what manner. You can imagine what I suffered, Liz! I thought I had fortune in my hands; and I had, but I was tricked out of it-for the whole affair was a swindle; and I shouldn't wonder if some

of the prophets and tipsters were not in it. The horse was never intended to win; and they swore it couldn't lose.'

He derived comfort from the confession he was making; he took no blame to himself; and he did not, when he reached this point, tell her the story of the theft from the iron box. Then he went on to narrate how he had made Mr. Sheldrake's acquaintance, and how that gentleman had lent him money from time to time, and how misfortune continued to pursue him. He would have had his pockets filled with money over and over again if it had not been that things invariably went wrong with him just at the critical moment.

'It was from no want of judgment on my part, Liz. I had got to learn as much as any of the prophets and tipsters, and yet I could never manage to turn up trumps. I saw other fellows, who didn't know in their whole bodies as much as I knew in my little finger, make hundreds and hundreds of pounds. Then there were others who had been almost as unlucky as I have been, and who all at once made a great strike, and rolled in money. It only wants sticking to, Liz. I'll make all our fortunes yet; you see if I don't! There's the City and Suburban coming on; and I know something that'll open their eyes. And when I pay Mr. Sheldrake the money I owe him, I'll cut with him, if it's only to please you; although he's behaved like a brick to me, mind that, Liz!'

By the time he had reached the end of his recital he had recovered some of his good spirits. Lizzie listened in silence, and interrupted him only once, to ask him whether he ever made any bets with Mr. Sheldrake.

'O, no,' was the reply; 'Sheldrake will never bet with me, Liz. Why, sometimes he tries to per

suade me not to back a horse that I'm sweet on, and even tries to persuade me not to bet on races at all. "It's a bad game, Alf," he has said to me more than once, "it's a bad game, unless you've got a strong bank at your back, and unless you can hold out for a long time." Well, then, I ask him how it was he had managed to make his money; and he can't help telling me the truth. He was dead broke, Liz, in a worse fix than I'm in now-ay, a thousand times worse-he has told me so lots of times; but he stuck to it until on one race he had taken a bet of a thousand pounds to ten, and his horse won. There he was, all right in a minute. He was a made man directly the horse passed the winning-post. He told me how he threw his hat in the air, and how he almost danced for joy. Then the money began to roll in. That's how it is, Liz. You've only got to stick to it long enough, and to keep your heart up.'

'Do you bet with any of Mr. Sheldrake's friends, Alf?' asked Lizzie.

'With one-Con Staveley.'

Lizzie repeated, under her breath, 'Con Staveley !' as if desiring to fix the name in her memory.

'He's a good fellow, too, is Con. He gives me long odds-longer than I should be able to get from any other of the commission agents or from any of the clubs. One of these days I shall give him a nip, as sure as fate. He has told me so, often, laughingly. "You'll nip me one of these fine days, Alf," he said; "and I shall have to hand you over a big cheque. Well, you may as well have it as anybody else." And I mean to have it, Liz. If I don't make it out of the City and Suburban, I'll make it out of the Derby. Would you like to go to the Derby, Liz?

'And so,'concluded Alfred, when he came to the end of his story,

which he had told and coloured in such a way as to make it appear that it was only by an extraordinary combination of ill-chances that he was not 'rolling in money' at the present time, 'you see where my chance lies. I shall be sure to come up all right, if I go on. And I must go on, Liz; that's a fact. It's my only chance. And as Mr. Sheldrake can shut me up at any minute, I must be careful not to offend him. I want you to be civil to him, for my sake, if you won't for his own." 'I'll try to, Alf.”

'That's a dear! I can't understand why you are so bitter against him. At one time you were always praising him; and you've some reason to be thankful to him. I'm sure he's been very kind to you and Mr. Musgrave.'

'It looks so,' said Lizzie thoughtfully, 'outwardly.'

But

She said no more; for she was. keen enough to see that many conflicting influences were at work. That Alfred was blind to Mr. Sheldrake's character was plain; and indeed, the feeling she entertained against him was really nothing more than a matter of prejudice. her instincts were dead against him; and she thoroughly distrusted him. There is often in woman's character a sort of unreasoning reason, to the whisperings of which she tenaciously clings, even though outward evidence almost surely prove it to be based upon false grounds. And in the majority of instances, the instinct which prompts this refusal of direct evidence is correct. Mr. Sheldrake had become Lizzie's Doctor Fell; and she judged him accordingly. She saw the warm passion which he entertained for Lily, and although she was convinced that Lily loved Felix, she was puzzled by her friend's conduct towards Mr. Sheldrake. At one time Lily was cold to him, at another she was kind; and often she

showed an anxious solicitude to please him. The two girls were firm and affectionate friends, and exchanged many confidences; but the one subject which Lizzie was most anxious to hear spoken of was steadily avoided by her friend. Many a time had Lizzie introduced Felix's name and Mr. Sheldrake's for the express purpose of inviting or eliciting an avowal, but Lily had invariably turned the conversation into another channel. That Lily was suffering was evident to the eyes of her friend. Lizzie had said to herself, Perhaps it is because Felix doesn't speak.' The conversation she had had with Alfred this night set her thinking more seriously. She yearned to set matters right; but turn which way she did, one obstacle started up constantly before her-Mr. Sheldrake. He seemed to hold them all in his power by the relations which existed between him and Alfred. As she thought of the terrible blow he could inflict upon them all, she began to hate him. Alfred was powerless; Lily was powerless; Mr. Musgrave was powerless. Lizzie had a large share of woman's wit and cunning, and much confidence in herself. In her musings now, Mr. Sheldrake presented himself to her in the light of a foe to her dearest hopes, as one who was weaving treacherous webs around her friends; and she found herself watching him, and looking about her for some means to break the threads, and so defeat him. If I had some one to help me,' she thought, some man to depend upon who is not in Mr. Sheldrake's power. Felix! She started; for the name had come so suddenly upon her and with such vivid force as to make her almost fancy that she had really heard it spoken. Felix! The man of all others whom she would have chosen; the man of all others upon whom she could

best depend. The thought of him gave her such hope and comfort, that she kissed Alfred tenderly. He returned her caress, and called her a dear good girl, and told her how he loved her.

Mr. Musgrave, who was waiting up for Lizzie, heard the sound of the cab wheels, and ran to the gate. 'Will you come inside, Alfred?' he asked.

'No, thank you,' was the reply. 'I will bid Lizzie good-night here.'

'I'll be in presently, daddy,' said Lizzie, with a kiss, which sent the old man into the house with a light heart.

As the lovers stood together in the quiet night, some better influences, born of the peace which surrounded him and of the consciousness of the love which Lizzie bore towards him, entered Alfred's heart, and he experienced a genuine feeling of regret for the folly of the past. It had floated him on to rocks so perilous that his liberty was endangered and his honour was lost. How much better had it been for him and all of them had he avoided the fatal snares! 'Let me but once get free,' he thought,

and I will take care not to be caught again.' In this way do all weak natures repent the consequences of their folly. What was bad in Alfred's nature sprang out of his weakness; his very selfishness only asserted itself when he was in trouble-but then, indeed, it asserted itself with such strength as to sweep aside every other consideration, and as to make it impossible for him to recognise the danger he might inflict on those he loved in his efforts to free himself from the net he had woven for himself.

The lovers did not part for nearly an hour. The little that Lizzie said to Alfred soothed and comforted him, and when he bade her the last good-night, and gave her