girl, adhered to her own determination. The servant, on her side, was just as firm; she cried a great deal, and said she would do anything else if she might come back, but confess she would not. So she and her mother had to go away again, mamma telling her, as she was such a bad girl, never to come about the house any more. I had been very uneasy, as you may fancy, Nelly, during all this. interview, and was very sorry for the poor people. I changed my seat, I should say, half a dozen times, and once or twice got up to leave the room, but sat down again, thinking they would perhaps consider it odd if I went. At last I crept up to mamma, blushing, and, with tears in my eyes begged her in a whisper to let Mary stop. But, as I would not give my reasons for asking, she was rather angry with me, and I think sent them away all the sooner for my interference. When they were gone, both crying, mamma soon afterwards went up-stairs. Then papa called me to him where he was sitting in his easy chair on the hearthrug, and, putting his hand on my shoulder, said gravely, “Lizzie, I have heard all that has just passed, and, though I never meddle with domestic matters, thinking it better to leave such things to your mamma, yet I want to ask you a question. You see what distress Mary and her mother are in; and, of course, there is no telling what they may not have to suffer in consequence of this affair. They have no money, and cannot get any unless Mary keeps her place, so it is quite possible they may all be turned out of their house into the snow. How would you like to have to sleep out this cold night, Lizzie ?" (It was December.) "And then Mary's father, being ill, may die from the exposure, and she herself, being thought a thief, may never be able to get a place again. Now, perhaps your mamma was quite right, even though all this should happen, in sending her away, if she really took the pins. But, Lizzie, do you know I rather thought from your manner that you must have taken them, in spite of your telling your mamma that you had not. Well, have you? You see the dreadful misery you will cause if you do not speak the truth now. Did you take the pins?". I blushed and could see nothing for tears, as I stood looking straight before me, perfectly still with shame and fright. Twice I tried to whisper a feeble "Yes;" but the word stuck in my throat, till papa put his ear close to my lips, and repeated kindly, “Now, did you, Lizzie ?” Then at last it came out-a little, faint "Yes." I could not have added another word for my life. However, he heard it, and said, "Well, Lizzie, this is very bad, and we must talk about it afterwards; but you must try and repair your fault at once, so just run after Mary, and fetch her back yourself; you will easily overtake her if you go quick. I will tell your mamma about it in the meantime." I ran very hard, snatching up a shawl in the passage, and succeeded in overtaking and bringing her back with me. Mamma made me beg her pardon, and give her a new dress out of my own money, and I was severely punished besides, as I richly deserved to be. But I certainly wondered when papa pointed out how a little vanity had led me on, step by step, from disobedience to deception, and thence to stealing, lying, and cowardice, and so had nearly made me ruin nine other people all in a single day! B. Y. "THE QUIVER" BIBLE CLASS. 144. Ten men who escaped being massacred because they had property. 145. That Israel should spoil the Egyptians was prophesied 400 years previous to the exodus. when a minstrel was called to play before him. 146. The hand of the Lord came upon a prophet 147. After a family feast, the father, fearing the children might have sinned in their excess, offered sacrifices for them. 148. One of the tributary kings to Israel paid for his tribute 200,000 sheep. 149. A man who saved a great king's life, but went unrewarded until the king, to spend the hours of a sleepless night, had the records of his kingdom read to him, and then noticed the fact. 150. A king was in a great extremity; kis city beleaguered by a victorious army. To propitiate his god, and prove his determination not to surrender, he offered his son and heir a burnt offering upon the wall. ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS ON PAGE 271. 125. Jer. xiii. 7. 126. Dan. iii. 21. 127. Ruth iii. 15. 128. Josh. ii. 6. 129. About 183 yards long, 31 yards wide, and 25 feet high (Gen. vi). If the measure be reckoned by the sacred cubit-25 inches-these dimensions would be a little more than one seventh greater. 130. Dan. i. 6. 131. Ezek. xlviii. 31. 132. The sons of Zadok (Ezek. xlviii. 11). 135. Lev. x. 19. 66 "We are, both of us, ruined!"-p. 306. IN DUTY BOUND. BY THE AUTHOR OF MARK WARREN," " DEEPDALE VICARAGE," 66 A BRAVE LIFE," ETC. ETC. CHAPTER LI.-" AGAIN THAT NAME!" HE hour came at last for Luke to present him THE self, and for Juliet to return home. Luke, beaming with delight, had not the slightest suspicion that the subject, so obnoxious to him, had VOL. V. been broached. It was the first time he had been allowed to escort her as her acknowledged lover, and he was in excellent spirits. He thought himself the luckiest fellow in the world. 231 It was only a short walk from Beech Grove to the little red-brick house in which Juliet's parents lived; but Luke, leisurely at all times, was certainly not disposed to hurry now. This walk was the rare bit of felicity he had been hankering after the whole day long. He was fast losing his habitual stolidity; love had quickened his faculties amazingly. The first thing he did was to try and obtain possession of Juliet's hand. But she did not seem in quite so loving a mood as he was. She had always been what he called rather "high and mighty" with him. But now the engagement had begun in earnest, he hoped she would descend a little from her dignity. She had done so in the blissful interview he had with her yesterday; now she was quite on the stilts again. He was beginning to remonstrate with her when she cut him very short indeed. "How is it you have deceived me in the matter Sibley. Some one had put Kate in a passion. Well, of that debt?" Ill-omened word! It made him change colour for the moment; but he recovered instantly. He wondered who had been so mischievous as to tell her. "My own father," she replied, shortly. He changed colour again; but again all anxiety was dismissed. The matter had been settled, he told her; that was why he had not troubled her with it. Had it been in existence, he should never have ventured And again he tried to approach her. But not yet. Juliet was only half satisfied. He had to tell her the whole story, from beginning to end. He had to explain and to asseverate. In his own mind he felt perfectly secure. It was in good faith when he said, "We shall hear not one syllable more about it, Juliet. Come, Juliet-Juliet!" Gradually she relented-very gradually, indeed. When she did relent, there came that bit of rare felicity which Luke had been bargaining for. Though sweet as honey, it could not well be shorter. The cloud had but just passed when the gates of Beech Grove appeared in sight. Still, she was very bewitching. Her last look, the one that beamed upon him as she bade him farewell -not one, but both her hands in his grasp―repaid him for all. He walked home, sunning himself in the memory of it. It was getting dusk; but in the glimmering twilight he could perceive a little figure flitting to and fro as he approached the garden gate. What on earth could it be? He had barely time to conjecture when there darted upon him his sister Kate. She had a shawl over her head, and had been watching for him. Her hand, when he touched it, flt as cold as ice. She shivered, and her teeth chattered. There was something strange about her altogether. "Kate! Kate! what are you doing?" "I am waiting for you, Luke." he must hear all about it. He wished she were not such a little vixen! She would be frightening Juliet to death some of these days. "What is it, Kate?" he said, his mind going back, after the first alarm, to that beaming look of his beloved's; "what is it, my sister?” "It is this, Luke," and she came up to him, and laid hold of his arm: "that we are, both of us, ruined!” "Ruined, my dear! How-how ?" "By Mr. Sibley." "Kate, if you love me, you will explain this thing," said Luke, anxiously. 'Sit down, my dear, and compose yourself. Now, just tell me what has happened." "This has happened," she replied, in a firm but suppressed voice: "Sir Frederic has changed his mind"-and she gave a little scornful laugh-"or Mr. Sibley has been too strong for him. He is going to seize the farm for the debt." "But how can he, when the proof has been destroyed ?" 1 IN DUTY BOUND. "That letter was not the only proof. A witness has come forward who can swear to its nonpayment, and also produce a written attestation of the same. That is their version. That is the web in which they have entangled us." "Who is the witness ?" "A person of the name of Smith. He has been here with Mr. Sibley." "Sibley always comes when I am out, the cowardly rascal!" exclaimed Luke, grinding his teeth. "They give you seven days in which to produce the money; after that, proceedings will be taken against you. Luke," added she, earnestly, "if it must be so, let us contend no farther. Let us pay the debt, if it takes our last farthing." "What! and be beggared ?" 307 The time slipped by more pleasantly than he could have believed. He-stern and grave as he was could not hold out to the end against the varied blandishments of Sidney; and there was something, after all, of abstract bliss in the simple word holiday. He had not had one for years; he never might have one again. This had been forced upon him, without his asking; but, say what he would, to his over-taxed heart and brain it was welcome-nay, more, it was sweet. These delicious balmy days-for the weather was enchanting-the rambles along the beach, listening to the soft music of the waves; the fresh, invigorating air; the rest, the quiet, the absence from care; the interval of leisure for studies and meditations that he loved-all this made up a brief period of "We shall be beggared all ways!" said she, bursting enjoyment that came to him in the immediate path into tears. "And when it has been paid already-when we shall give the lie to our dear father's testimony, and contradict ourselves! Never, Kate! never!" She was sobbing piteously. She was but a woman, after all; and she had just brought her domestic toils to such a happy termination. The house ready for the bride-Juliet coming-the brightest days in store for them—and now all was to be destroyed in an hour; all through the malice and vindictiveness of Mr. Sibley! of duty, and which he dared to indulge. Like all other joys, it was fleeting fast away. But a few days remained, and the visit to Cliff Bridge would be ended. Amy would have sufficiently recovered to return home. What the next step would be, puzzled him to think. Other minds had been busy on the subject as well. He was poring over one of his favourite volumes, when Amy came stealing into the room. He thought that she had gone upon the beach with Sidney. He glanced to the door mechanically. He expected Sidney Luke had seized his hat, but he laid it down to follow her-the lovers were inseparable in these days-but, as it happened, he was mistaken. again. "You say he is out. It is of no use going to the Tower. I could not have believed it of him. I can't imagine what we are to do!" For the first time Kate made no suggestion. The nearness of the ruin appalled her. "I can't imagine what we are to do," he repeated, I, Reuben?" as he strode up and down the room. way I look is utter destruction!" "Whichever IT WAS NOTHING SHORT OF IDOLATRY. Jor is, after all, one of the great medicines of lifeand joy had set in, like a full tide, to the heart of Amy. Her physical powers revived, like the parched ground after a summer shower. She began to recover with a speed that surpassed Reuben's expectations. He could scarcely believe it possible. He dare not leave her. He felt it was imperative upon him, at this juncture, to be more than ever watchful over her; she would pass into another's care and keeping soon. His heart clung to her with unusual fondness. He was altogether softened; and, as Amy said, laughingly, more pliable. How it did him good to hear her laugh once more! "Ornaments have not been much in our way, Amy." She was silent a moment. Reuben, having given a cursory glance at the trinket, was about to resume his reading. Nothing of that sort interested him in the least. Amy lingered. She evidently had more to say. "It may not be so always, Reuben. The time may come when I shall be quite a lady." "I hope you are that now, Amy." "Yes, but- How dull you are, Reuben!" She paused, and came near to him, with crimson cheek and eye sparkling with excitement. "Sidney thinks-Sidney says――" "Well?" asked Reuben, attentively, and in a tone of interest. "He thinks that we had better be married at once." should have arranged his affairs, and Amy's health | self to it. He thought Sidney's mother ought to be be quite established; when-he felt rather uneasy on this point-Sidney's mother should have been consulted. From speeches dropped by Sidney, her ladyship was altogether in the dark. told. He would go himself, he said, and lay the matter before her. If she had a motherly and Christian heart, she would not refuse her sympathy. From which speech, it might be inferred, that Lady Peters was "Has Sidney written to Lady Peters?" was the personally a stranger to Reuben. next question he asked. "He is writing now." This was just the thing Amy dreaded the most. 'Oh no, no!" cried she, in a voice of keen alarm; Reuben was silent. In spite of all Sidney's blan-"we will wait, Reuben-we will do anything rather dishments, in spite of his gratitude at Amy's recovery, than that!" in spite of his late delights, there was a smothered feeling of uneasiness now the matter had come to the point-now that he could see the specks and flaws in it more clearly. Amy came close to him, and hid her face on his shoulder. She was violently agitated. "Reuben, if he leaves me again, I cannot bear it. It will kill me. My very life depends on his being with me always—always," added she, wildly, almost, as ever. Reuben was increasingly grave. It was clear to him that this passionate, vehement love was nothing short of idolatry. Thank Heaven, he knew nothing of it-that into these dangerous and stormy passages he had never come. It would not do for one with his great mission thus to be entangled and swallowed up! How should he deal with Amy? Her strength would soon be unknit if she were to tremble so-if the agitation were to last. He hastened to calm it. "When Sidney has heard from his mother, we will talk the matter over." " "You are so cold, Reuben, so apathetic,” she cried, impulsively. 'Suppose he does hear, and suppose she forbids the marriage-what then?" "It will be time to discuss the point when it presents itself, Amy." "Yes, and I am to die!-die of suspense and agony! If he is torn from me again, I shall lose my reason. I will not let him go, Reuben! I will follow him all over the world! I will leave everything for him, everything!" He felt stung by the recklessness of the speech. Had not he been better to her than Sidney? Was de not, even now, more her friend? His hand shook, as he put the marker in his volume, and closed it. "You talk so wildly, Amy, it pains me to hear you. What are you intending to do?" She was sorry she had spoken. It was always so with Reuben. None of the devious paths, which humanity is so ready to adopt, found favour with him. At whatever cost, he would avoid every one of them. The way he chose was too high, too steep, too rugged for her. It was easier by far, to slip back to Sidney. Reuben had said it was idolatry. This man stood to her in the place of God. CHAPTER LIII. SIDNEY'S LETTER TO HIS MOTHER. LADY PETERS had come down to her late breakfast; the postman had been long since, and a number of letters lay upon the table. Her ladyship carelessly glanced at one after the other. She had a vast number of correspondents. It was part of her policy to keep up as many friends and acquaintances as she could. Besides, a large correspondence gave her an air of importance. Well, there was nothing very interesting this morning. An invitation to dinner, a dressmaker's bill, a begging letter from somebody down in Dorsetshire, that was about all. Stay, there is a letter from Sidney. That will keep until she has taken her first sip of chocolate. "Sidney has been so unlucky," she thought, as she poured out her favourite beverage. "And want of luck is a positive crime." What was to be done with him remained to be seen. With all his accomplishments, and the gifts nature had bestowed upon him, he had made no way in the world. He was a refined specimen of pauperism, if the matter had to be put in plaia English. He must come back, of course, and set to work at his profession. He would still have a home at the She brushed away the hot passionate tears, and Tower. Still be a hanger-on upon his cousin, her spoke more calmly. "Sidney thinks he must go to East Bramley, and get to work at his profession. He is going to practise as a lawyer." "Only going-not actually practising, then, Amy ?" "What does that matter," cried she impatiently, "when he is sure to succeed in everything ?" Reuben was again silent. The thing was not in accordance with his views. A hasty marriage, unknown to Sidney's relatives, was not strictly honourable. He did not feel that he could lend him ladyship might have added. At any rate, she dare not let him drift from this safe mooring at present. And what would poor dear Frederic do without his relatives to keep him company? The obligation was really as much on one side as the other. She must look out for another wife for Sidney-s lady with money, and with position. These were the essential points. Her ladyship was not particular about the rest. After all, it might not be so very difficult, considering Sidney's extreme popularity and his varied arts |