sitting upon the step at her feet, and gazing with grave expectancy down the drive till Cyril reached the door, when he rose, and respectfully greeted him with elevated tail and gentle mews, interspersed with purring, "You know that puss and I have an extra sense, which tells us when you are coming," she replied lightly, as she passed her arm through his, and led him through the little hall into the drawing-room, on the threshold of which a terrier and a pug sprang out to greet the new-comer with short barks of joy and sudden bounds and various wild expressions of delight—an indiscreet behavior quietly rebuked by two swift but dignified strokes of Mark Antony's white velvet paw, which sent the heedless animals, with dismal yelps and mortified tails, to a respectful distance.

A lady lay on a sofa near the fire, and a boy and a girl of some eight and nine years rolled on the hearth-rug with some toys. These children, with Cyril and Lilian, who were twins, constituted the sole remainder of Mrs. Maitland's once too numerous family. What with bearing and rearing them all, and the sorrow of losing so many, her strength was now exhausted, and the prime of her life was passed chiefly on that sofa, among its warm rugs. Cyril bent to kiss her, and a look of pride and joy lighted her pale, refined face as she gazed upon him.

The children sprang upon Cyril, and he, having caressed them, took a seat by Lilian, who was at the writing-table, from which she had risen on his approach.

her.

"Will it do?" he asked, gazing upon some manuscript before

"I think so," she replied. แ "I have drawn a line through the most ornate passages. But you must really try and adapt yourself to your congregation, Cyril. This goes completely over their heads. Be less elaborate, and speak from your heart, simply and honestly."

"The discipline which turns out Wranglers," observed Cyril, with a dry little smile, "does not train popular rustic preachers."

"Cyril's sermons again?" asked Mrs. Maitland. "Lilian should compose them entirely, I think. And yet I am wrong, for I doubt if either of you could do anything without the other."

The twins smiled, knowing this to be perfectly true. They were alike, and yet different. Lilian's features were fuller than Cyril's; her eyes softer and of a gray color, but they met the gazer with an even more powerful electric thrill than Cyril's light blue orbs; her

hair was many shades lighter than her brother's; and while Cyril could not appear in any assembly without exciting interest and drawing all eyes to himself, Lilian had a peculiar manner of pervading places without attracting the slightest observation. Gradually one became aware of an influence, and only after a long time discovered the personage from whom it emanated.

No one ever praised Lilian's beauty, though she possessed all the elements of loveliness. She shared Cyril's musical voice, but lacked its more powerful and penetrating tones. Cyril had beautifully shaped hands, but Lilian's were like two fair spirits, and formed the only striking part of her personality; they were the first thing the stranger observed in her, and, once observed, they were never for a moment forgotten. The twins had shared everything from their babyhood. The same tutor demanded equal tasks of brother and sister; and when Cambridge separated them, Lilian still followed the course of her brother's studies, and would doubtless have been a high wrangler, had she been submitted to the same tests as he. The peculiar bond between them was respected and acknowledged even by Mark Antony, who was, as his mistress frequently observed, a cat of considerable force of character. Besides Lilian, Cyril was the only human being Mark Antony ever followed or fawned upon, and it was supposed that his very strong affections were entirely bestowed upon the twins.

To strangers this cat was haughtily indifferent; and, if a visitor took such a liberty as to stroke his ebon fur, would rise and walk away with offended majesty. To the family he observed a distant but eminently courteous demeanor; to the servants he was condescending; to the children polite, but never familiar, their respectful caresses being received with dignified resignation, and never suffered to go beyond a certain point; his bearing to the dogs was that of a despot. He was a great warrior, and suffered no other cat to intrude so much as a paw on the Rectory grounds; hence his name.

He never left Lilian while she was in the house, and at certain seasons exacted games of play from her, scorning to play with any one else, save occasionally when he unbent so far as to entangle himself wildly in Winnie's curls, to the great consternation of the dogs. But Cyril might do anything with him, and could never do wrong. In this Mark Antony differed from his mistress, since Cyril was the only person with whom she ever quarreled, the two having had many a pitched battle in their childhood, though they always

stood up for each other to such an extent that, if one was punished by the deprivation of pudding, the other was permitted to go on half rations with the delinquent, and to give one an orange meant to give each half a one.

"Did you tell him that the Everards were here this afternoon?" Mrs. Maitland added, the personal pronoun being considered sufficient indication to Lilian of her brother, while "her" in addressing Cyril was known to mean Lilian.

"Were they, indeed? and I away, of course," grumbled Cyril.

"You may guess Marion's message," laughed Lilian, in a low aside, at which Cyril looked pleased.

"Well, mother, and the news?" he added.

"Henry's long silence is satisfactorily explained."

"Satisfactorily?

O mother-and he has been at death's

door!" interrupted Lilian.

"Ill? Everard? I knew there must be something very serious," ejaculated Cyril. "But he is better?"

"He is convalescent, dear. He is a noble, unselfish fellow, as I always knew when he was but a tiny boy! He would not let his friends be written to until he was completely out of danger. There was a child dangerously ill of scarlet fever in some dreadful court in Seven Dials. He was too ill to be moved, and had a bad, drunken mother, and Henry watched him for several nights, relieving guard with a day nurse. By the time the child was out of danger Henry was raving-"

"Then, why," interrupted Cyril, with agitation, "were we not told?"

"He had foreseen his delirium, and forbidden any communication till he died or recovered. He knew full well that nothing would have kept Marion from him, had she known—”

"He was right!" broke in Cyril, in a low, fervid tone. Heaven that he thought of that!"

"Thank

"Henry always thinks of everything that may affect the welfare of his friends," added Lilian, whose face wore a look of quiet enthusiasm, and whose dark gray eyes were shining with repressed tears.

"And now?" added Cyril, with energy. "They will not let Marion go to him now, I hope. The convalescent stage is the most infectious."

"They will not meet until Henry is perfectly free from infection. You may trust Henry for that, Cyril."

"He has been very ill," said Lilian; "they feared he would be both blind and deaf. It will be months before he can recover, though the infectious stage is already nearly past."

66 Poor old Everard! that will be a terrible trial for him with his ambition. Time is so precious to a man who is beginning his career."

"I suspect he has been working too hard," said Mrs. Maitland, "and the enforced rest to his brain may benefit him more than they think. Admiral Everard is ordered to the Mediterranean with the squadron in a few weeks' time, and, a winter abroad being necessary for Henry, he is to go in the Cressy to Malta, from whence he will afterward go to other places-Egypt and the Holy Land among them--and Marion is to be his companion."

"Marion? What! Marion spend the winter abroad? ImposShe shall not go."

sible!

"You are not married yet, Cyril," said Lilian, laughing.

"My dear boy, why should Marion not go?" asked his mother, in surprise. "She is delighted at the prospect. It is perhaps the only chance she will have of going abroad for any length of time. Once married, a girl can not see much of the world, as the admiral says, and a country curate's wife is especially bound to home."

“And do you suppose, mother, that I shall always be a country curate?" asked Cyril, with fire. "No, indeed. My wife will have as many opportunities of seeing the world as any one, I trust. But she can not, she must not leave me all this winter. I simply can' not spare her."

"And Henry-can he spare her?" asked Lilian.

“She is not engaged to Henry. Let Henry get a wife of his own."

"My dear Cyril, how absurdly you talk!" said Mrs. Maitland, "You forget that Henry is an invalid, and will need his sister's And you forget, too, that Marion is looking forward with

care.

the greatest delight to this unexpected trip."

"The only lady on board-on board a man-of-war!"

"And awful fun, too," interposed the boy on the rug. "I only wish I was ill, and the admiral would take me."

"Well, Lennie, you would be a more appropriate passenger, certainly. The admiral had better take us all, I think. Snip, the

terrier, and Snap, the pug, with Mark Antony to catch the mice and keep us in order."

"But Marion is not going in the Cressy," interposed Lilian. "There was some idea of her going at first. It seems, however, that ladies are not supposed to sail with their relations."

"I was beginning to wonder whether the admiral purposed carrying a regular Noak's ark about with him," grumbled Cyril. "And pray, how does Marion get to Malta unless in the Cressy? By balloon? or does she charter a vessel of her own?"

"She goes with the Wilmots, overland by Marseilles. Captain Wilmot is joining his regiment at Malta. They stop at Paris and other places, taking it leisurely, and that will be delightful to Marion, who has traveled so little."

"It seems, then, after all, that Henry will have to do without Marion till he reaches Malta," said Cyril.

"But he will have his father, and, of course, a proper attendant on board. At Malta he will be thrown on his own resources, and will need a companion. They will take care of each other," Mrs. Maitland replied cheerfully. "They think of coming home by way of Sicily."

"I shall go to Woodlands to-morrow, and remonstrate with the admiral if he is there. I shall take the pony-chaise, unless you want it, Lilian."

'Nonsense, Cyll! You may go to the Woodlands and take the pony, but you will not remonstrate with the admiral, or make yourself in any way obnoxious," said Lilian. "When you come to reflect, you will see what a charming arrangement it is for everybody. The admiral is the more delighted, as he thinks this voyage will make Henry so desperately in love with the navy that he will become a naval surgeon."

66

"Hang the admiral!" observed Cyril, in his softest, most plaintive voice, while a droll little smile curved his lips. Why doesn't somebody pity me? Isn't it hard lines, Mark Antony?"

Mark Antony responded by a tiny mew. He was sitting on the writing-table between his twin favorites, the picture of feline bliss; his tail curled round his dainty white paws, his snowy breast tinted by the ruddy fire-light, his eyes lazily closing and unclosing, while he made rhythmic accompaniment to their voices in deep, long-drawn purrs, and expressed a benevolent and condescending interest in the conversation by occasional winks and movements in