"Oh dear, no. Whatever he may be, Jason Brooke came fairly enough by the Hurlock estate."

"Well, then, sir?"

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"Well, then, my dear Miss Fleming, if I must speak out," said the lawyer, thus driven into a corner, "if I were a lady (which I am not), and knew a poor girl of my acquaintance (which Clara Gilbert is not), about to marry such a man

"Miss Gilbert is no acquaintance of ours, Mr. Wainfleet," said Melly, coldly.

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My dear lady, I have done," said the lawyer; adding, gaily, "and in good time too, for here comes William Crickett, who has no love for me, with his train; and, as he spoke, the door opened, and enter the butler, in brown coat and wig and spotless cravat, with table-cloth gracefully thrown over his arm.

That evening the two ladies played at chess, as usual, until supper-time. Mr. Wainfleet took his supper at "The George" inn at B

Three days later, a note was delivered at the Priory by the lame postman. It was addressed to Miss Fleming alone; but it began with "My dear Ladies."

"MY DEAR LADIES,

"J. B. is the man.

"Yours sincerely,

"PETER WAINFLEET."

The evening before this note was written the lawyer had kept his appointment with Moses Lee, the gipsy, on Marley Heath.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE BREAKFAST-PARLOUR AT FAIRBOURNE COURT-A VISITOR.

MORE than a week had passed since the storm; but its effects. were still visible. It had brought with it a second winter, which, though short in duration, and the precursor of a fine spring and fruitful summer, was sharp while it lasted. A dull leaden sky and a brisk northerly wind had kept back the inevitable thaw, and the whole extent of country was yet covered with snow, which here and there was drifted into deep and treacherous heaps and banks.

We must once more enter the breakfast-parlour of Fairbourne Court, where-although the dial on the mantelpiece pointed to two hours after the usual time for the conclusion of that mealMr. Roger Gilbert still sat, toasting his slippered feet by the large fire, and watching his wife as she sat opposite to him knitting.

Mr. Gilbert was in no very amiable mood. He had been three times that morning contradicted by the wife of his bosom; and this soured him. The click-click of the knitting-pins, and the rapid movement of her fair hands as she wrought her web, irritated his nerves, while his eyes and ears were fascinated by the sight and sound. The post-bag had not yet arrived, though it was an hour past the time of its usual delivery; and this increased Mr. Gilbert's impatience, to which, presently, he gave vent in a prolonged growl.

"Do you expect any letters of importance this morning, Mr. Gilbert?" asked the lady, in that tone of satisfied pre-occupation and indifference which is especially provoking under certain circumstances and in certain frames of mind.

"It doesn't matter whether I do or not, madam,” replied the

gentleman, snappishly; "the post ought to have been in long ago. You might know that, Mrs. Gilbert, if you were not so taken up with that rubbish on your lap."

"You are very complimentary this morning, my dear; I quite congratulate you on your good-temper and politeness," said the lady, calmly smiling.

"You are very welcome, Mrs. Gilbert," growled he.

"But you are a little unreasonable, surely," she continued, "in expecting poor Dick to be punctual to a few minutes in such weather as this."

"A few minutes! a few minutes! I tell you, Mrs. Gilbert, that it is an hour-a full hour-more than an hour-since the letters ought to have been brought in."

“And if it is an hour, my dear," rejoined the lady, as she readjusted her work, and placidly counted her stitches, "you need not be so cross with me. I am not your letter-carrier, sir; and, since you take it to heart so much, you might have some consideration for the poor man, who has to trudge eight miles through the snow to bring your letter-bag."

"Yes, and there's another worry. The snow! the snow! The snow is an excuse for everything that goes wrong. The snow does this, and the snow does that. There's my great oak, the finest, handsomest tree in the county—ruined, madam, absolutely wrecked and ruined by the snow."

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Very impertinent and disrespectful of the snow to do your tree an injury, Mr. Gilbert,” said the lady, ironically.

"Pho! nonsense! My dear, I wonder you should talk so ridiculously," exclaimed Mr. Gilbert, indignantly, as he rose and walked across the room to the window. Then he presently added: "You must know, Mrs. Gilbert, that I do expect a letter of importance by the post to-day."

"You mean from Mr. Brooke ?,"

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No, ma'am: not from Mr. Brooke, but about Mr. Brooke. It

is a week ago since I wrote about those settlements; and it is high time I had an answer."

"I hope it will be satisfactory when it comes, Mr. Gilbert. But I do not know why you should particularly expect the answer to-day. Lawyers don't like to be hurried, I believe. By the way, do you expect to have a visit from your friend Mr. Brooke to-day?"

"No, ma'am. You know very well that Mr. Brooke, my friend, as you call him

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Is he not your friend, sir?" interposed the lady.

Yes, Mrs. Gilbert," replied the gentleman, stoutly, "I am happy to say he is my friend. But would it not have been as easy for you to have said our friend'?"

6

"Well, as you please; our friend Mr. Brooke, then. But, as you were pleased to speak just now of your tree I could not presume to make any personal appropriation of your friend. I beg your pardon, however; you were about to say something about Mr. Brooke."

"That you know as well as I do that he caught the lumbago in riding home through the snow that night, and isn't able to mount his horse."

"I do not know that, Mr. Gilbert. You did not condescend to give me any particulars after your return from 'The Hurlocks' last evening.

"How could I when you were in bed and asleep, ma'aan? But you know it now, at any rate," said the gentleman, sulkily.

"And I am sorry to hear it. I can only hope that Mr. Brooke is not subject to the lumbago. I should not like

What the lady would not have liked must remain untold, for at that moment the attention of her husband was attracted by the appearance of an approaching pedestrian as seen from the window, out of which he had been rather vacantly gazing; and an exclamation broke from his lips

"Well! I never!"

"You never what, Mr. Gilbert?"

"Here's somebody coming. Straight up to the entrance-hall. The impudence of some people!"

"Of what people, Mr. Gilbert?"

"Of such people as that. Some acquaintance of your housemaid, or cook, or housekeeper, I suppose. Tramping through the snow. Coming straight up our carriage road to the principal. entrance. A woman."

"Shocking, my dear! I hope she won't bite think she will?" said the lady, laughing.

us; do you

"Mrs. Gilbert, I don't like such jokes. You know I don't approve of our carriage drive being made a thoroughfare for all sorts of people. I wish I could see in you a little more regard for-for my-my position in the, ahem—in the county, Mrs. Gilbert," said the gentleman, with offended dignity.

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What would you have me do, my dear?" asked the lady, suavely. "Would you have me arm myself with a birch-broom and rush out upon the offenders? Would it not be better if you were to put up a board on the lodge gate, to warn foot passengers that steel-traps and spring-guns are ready set for their reception ?"

“Mrs. Gilbert, if there is anything I do dislike, it is such stale and foolish jokes," said the offended lord to his lady. Meanwhile, during this interchange of ill-tempered pleasantries, the stranger, whoever she might be, approached very near to the house, unconscious of the flutter she had caused. She had a quiet and stately step, though her feet were encased in stout and rather clumsy thick-soled boots. Her face could not be seen by the angry master of the house; for over her bonnet she wore the large hood of a cardinal cloak, which concealed her features as well as shielded them from the sharp and nipping wintry air. Below the hem of her cloak was plainly visible a full skirt of