be able to show his friendship for his companion other than in empty professions and unpalatable advice.

There were other emotions, however, in the mind of Rivers, entirely unconnected with his companion. His lost patrimony, the old Chase, now lay before him, and the broad moonlight lighted it up. It was a scene of uncommon wildness. Spreading over an area of perhaps two thousand acres, and inclosed with rough wooden palings, to keep in the deer and cattle which roamed over it at their will, the Chase might have been classed as a park, but for its perfectly unreclaimed state. Its surface, which was exceedingly irregular, was almost covered with fern and heath and immense patches of furze, save where it was varied by clumps of trees which cast their dark shadows over the scarcely perceptible pathway which led through the neglected domain. The travellers well knew the way they had to take, however; and avoiding the rough cart-roads which wound through the Chase in various directions, and were, even at this season of the early autumn, more than ankle-deep in thick, clayey, tenacious mud, they made straight towards the old mansion known as "The Hurlocks," which lay embowered in a deep dell, almost hidden by surrounding and overtopping foliage. Enough was seen of the house, however, from the commanding point at which the two young men had instinctively halted, to reveal an edifice, large, low, dark, and gloomy, but not without some claims to veneration, for it was old and partly fallen to decay. Here and there ivy had half-hidden the grey stone of which the walls were built, and encroached upon the oriel windows, from one of which, on the ground floor, a dim light was shining.

Since entering upon the Chase, no word had escaped the lips of either of the young men; and the silence of that autumnal evening had been broken only by the rustling of startled game in the fern, or the sonorous bellowing of a bull in the distant

glades of the wilderness. Now, however, Rivers once more spoke.

“The old library, Tom," he said, almost in a whisper, solemn and sad.

Tom nodded.

"You remember the day my poor father was buried, Tom?"

"Yes," Tom remembered it well. The coffin had been placed in the library; and the servants and workmen on the estate had been admitted to take a last look of their dead master there.

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“I am glad I have seen the old place once more, and in your company, Tom," said Rivers, softly. "I shall carry the remembrance of this evening with me. Now we will move on."

"They say," said Tom, presently, "that Mr. Brooke spends a good deal of time in the library, Master Harry.”

"Much good may the old books do him, Tom."

“I don't say Amen to that, Harry," said Tom, adding, “ And after all I would rather be you than that man, master of mine though he is."

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Why, Tom?"

"Because they say that ill-gotten goods never thrive," said Carey.

“Be quiet, Tom. I may have had some such thoughts too; but I want to leave old England in charity with all men; and since Jason Brooke has got hold of 'The Hurlocks,' peace be with him!"

Talking in this fashion, the two men passed over the remaining ground of the Chase, and, surmounting the fence, entered upon a more cultivated country. The harvest that year had been early, and the broad corn-fields through which their pathway conducted the pedestrians were almost all cleared, the high stubble glittering whitely under the moonbeams. Here and there the scene was varied by plantations of hops, the light green and luxuriant clusters of which contrasted pleasantly with the dark sombre

foliage of the tall climbing plants. As the two young men pushed forward, plunging now into deep ravines, or dells, and crossing on narrow plank bridges the streams which flowed through them, and then labouring up steep ascents which, when accomplished, gave them delicious glimpses of extended evening scenery, they lapsed once more into silence; and it was not till they emerged into a narrow country road, lined by high hedges, that they could once more walk abreast. Then Tom spoke.

"You have nothing more to say, Master Harry, before we part?" he said, wistfully.

"I think not, Tom; nothing in particular."

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Nothing I can do for you when you are abroad? Nothing I can write to you about ?"

"I think not, Tom."

"Not about anything, or-or anybody, Harry?"

"I fancy not, Tom. There will not be much pleasant news to give, I am afraid."

"I am sorry for it, Master Harry."

"Besides, you won't know where to write; but I may see you again. Here we are at the Priory, at last."

A pair of broad, high, heavy wooden gates, with a smaller, lighter one for foot-passengers, broke the continuity of the high hawthorn hedge; and, lifting the latch of the latter, Rivers and his companion found admittance into a large paddock. At one time a gravelled coach-road, from the gates just mentioned, had conducted circuitously, some two or three hundred yards, to the front of a gloomy and ancient building, which was now lighted up by the moon; but the road was overgrown with weeds. Long time had elapsed since a carriage had been driven there. Rejecting this road, and taking a shorter cut over the long rank grass of the paddock, the intruders made their way to a side gate in a half-ruined wall, to reach which, however, they had to pass over a deep, but dry moat, spanned by a rustic bridge. The

bell which announced the unexpected arrival of visitors sounded just as a clock in a neighbouring turret struck the hour of nine, and a long time elapsed before it was answered.

CHAPTER VI.

THE PRIORY.

WHILE our knight and his squire-that is to say, Henry Rivers and Tom Carey-are standing at the gate of the Priory in the calm moonlight, awaiting admittance, it behoves us to step in before them, and introduce to our readers the two ladies who are the mistresses of that mansion, and whose privacy is thus invaded.

Emily and Priscilla Fleming are sisters, and gentlewomen by birth and training. Their ages are respectively fifty and fortyfive; and their personal appearance is comely, though long past youthful bloom.

Their habits are secluded and precise; and their establishment is limited to three maids and one serving-man, who officiates as butler, footman, gardener, and general factotum. This man has grown grey in his ladies' service; and though they are his mistresses, and receive due respect, "as in duty bound," he rules them despotically; but they don't know it. His name is William Crickett-known as Mister Crickett in his circle of acquaintances.

The rules and orders of the Priory household are methodical, which will presently be seen to account for the long penance to which our two travellers are doomed, at the closed gate. Time was when there were gay doings within the Priory walls; but that was long ago. Now, almost all familiar intercourse with

the outer world is dropped, or suspended: such is the will of its

owners.

It is supposed that the ladies of the Priory are rich, misanthropic, and miserly; and that, having taken a disgust at the world, they choose to revenge themselves by withdrawing from its charmed circle. The world, however, cares little for this, and amuses itself by drawing caricatures of the ladies of the Priory; of which, however, they are in blissful ignorance.

Miss Emily and Miss Priscilla were exceedingly angry with their sister Bessy when, a quarter of a century ago, she elected to receive the addresses of Mr. Rivers. Bessy retorted that they were envious of her good fortune, and was married. Henceforth there was a feud between the two houses, which was intensified when poor Bessy died, and which remained unhealed until the death of her husband. The quarrel, however, had never been so violent as to shut the doors of the Priory against Harry, the heir of “The Hurlocks ;" and since that last event, and their nephew's downcome, the maiden sisters have warmed towards him, in their fashion.

With regard to the old Priory itself, it is sufficient to say that, whatever its former glory as a conventual establishment, it is now reduced to very moderate dimensions. A suite of chambers

above, a suite of rooms below, a kitchen and other domestic offices, with chambers above them-also, a small cottage at the back, detached and separated from the main building by a rather spacious court-yard-are all that remain in habitable repair. Besides, there are abundance of ruins, and strange large vaults, of which strange stories are told, and where ghosts are said to walk from midnight to cock-crow. A moat, now dry, surrounds the whole, and gives sufficient space within its bounds for a walled garden, which limits the daily walks of the two sisters, and gives sufficient employment for Mr. Crickett in his horticultural capacity.