force as to have become further shattered by the concussion, and scattered its fragments around. "It isn't safe, sir, depend on it," he added, shudderingly. "I have been told that sometimes such a slight thing as a single footstep will bring down pieces like this; and if they should happen to come down on your head, where would you be then, Master Harry?"

"If you have any fears for your own safety, Mr. Crickett, you are wise not to run the risk," said Rivers, coolly; "but as I have

"Ah, sir, you are a young man, and young men will be venturesome. But, after all, there's nothing to see, even if there was daylight enough down here to help."

"We might remedy the want of daylight by a candle or two, perhaps, Mr. Crickett," said Harry, as, regardless of the butler's warnings and apparent fears, he penetrated farther into the obscurity of the crypt.

""Tis my belief that there's so much bad air as you get farther in that candles would go out of themselves, sir," said Mr. Crickett, solemnly, as he followed Rivers, step by step-at a respectful distance, however.

"Pho! the air here is as pure as it is above-ground," said Harry, laughing, and at the same time stumbling over another fragment of stone, which, because of the obscurity around him, he did not see till too late.

"I told you so, sir," cried Mr. Crickett, in a tone of combined reproach and sympathy, as he stepped forward and helped the prostrate explorer to rise: "you are not hurt, though, are you, Mr. Rivers?"

Harry wasn't hurt, and he said so; and, nothing daunted by his mishap, he proceeded in his researches. Mr. Crickett was right there was nothing particular to see, even if there had been daylight enough, which there was not. There were heaps of rubbish scattered about, and strewing the rough, uneven floor.

There were massive pillars of rough-hewn stone supporting the arched roof. There were narrow passages which seemed to lead nowhere in particular. There were cells some four feet square, and so low that Harry could not stand upright within them, with niches in the thick wall, which were perhaps, intended for saintly images. There were rusty iron rings driven into the wall, for what purpose he could not guess; and there were iron hooks in the centre of some of the arches above, from which, as he conjectured, had once depended the lamps which might have lighted up the crypt on high and solemn occasions, when "the mass it was sung, and the bells they were rung." All this Harry discovered as much by his sense of touch as of sight, though when his eyes had become accustomed to the gloom he found that they were not absolutely useless. But he discovered nothing else, except that he was watched and followed by Mr. Crickett whithersoever he turned; and the irritating consciousness of this hastened his return to the light of day.

"There's been rum doings, down there in old times, sir," remarked this gentleman, with a sigh of relief, as he emerged from the crypt.

"What makes you think so, Mr. Crickett ?" asked Harry.

"Well, sir, if old stories are true, there have been; not that I know anything of myself, and I have too much to think about to trouble my head about what doesn't concern me, Mr. Rivers."

“True; you seem to have plenty to do here. You have lived a long while at the Priory, too: I don't know what my aunts would do without you," said Harry, willing to humour the old servant, in spite of his vexation at Mr. Crickett's officious attentions.

"Can't say, Mr. Rivers," responded the other. "My ladies are very good ladies, but there's no harm in saying that they have got their ways; and it isn't everybody as would suit 'em, perhaps ; and you are right, sir, in saying that there's plenty to do. I

don't complain, Master Henry, far from it; but there is a plenty to do. Why, 'tis one man's work, a'most, to keep them three women creeturs in order, not to speak of gardening, and butlering, and waiting at table, and all the rest of it, sir. But a good conscience," added Mr. Crickett, gravely, "carries one through a deal; and, begging your pardon, Master Harry, you won't mind my leaving you now?"

They were at a safe distance from the ruins by this time, and the breakfast-hour was drawing on; so when Harry said, "Pray do not let me detain you, William," Mr. Crickett finally disappeared, until he once more turned up in the breakfast-room, arrayed in his decorous butlerian suit and brown wig.

CHAPTER XIII.

ON THE WAY.

"You will be back to dinner, Henry," said Miss Fleming, with a good deal of kindness in her tone and looks.

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Yes; you will be sure to be back in time for dinner," echoed Miss Priscilla. "We shall put off dining till two o'clock, remember, and there will be plenty of time to go and return in.” "And an hour to spare for your morning call, Henry," added the elder lady.

Henry Rivers gave the required promise. There would be plenty of time, as his aunts had said, for the walk and the visit both; for it was now only eleven by the old clock in the turret, and the distance from the Priory to Fairbourne Court was barely three miles. Yes, he would be back to dinner; for, if he were pressed to stay by Mr. Gilbert, he could plead this promise, and leave the invitation open for to-morrow, or the next day, or the

next.

So Harry shook hands with aunt Melly and aunt Prissy, and went on his way.

"Poor Henry!" ejaculated Miss Fleming, as she presently walked side by side with her sister in the garden.

"Poor Henry!" responded Miss Priscilla, with a deep-drawn sigh; and these two words were all that passed between the sisters for a full hour.

Meanwhile Rivers was slowly hurrying on to Fairbourne Court; that is to say, his bodily steps were slow, but the imaginations of his heart were hastening on. He wondered what kind of reception he should meet, and pictured to himself the tender, timid, half reproachful, and altogether sorrowful glances he should have to encounter from poor Clara's beautiful dark brown eyes-those expressive, liquid glances which had so often entranced him with delight. In short, Henry Rivers had not proceeded a mile on the road before he had woven out a very fair romance for his future life, and made a fool of himself for his pains, doubtless.

He had chosen the loneliest road he could take to Fairbourne Court; in fact, it was no road at all, but a narrow footpath across the country, which was direct enough for his purpose; for naturally he shrunk from encountering any of his former neighbours, whom he would probably have met on the more public and beaten track. It was vexatious to him, therefore, to find that he had run into the very danger he had striven to avoid, when, on springing over a high stile which intersected his path, he found himself within a hundred yards of two sportsmen who were beating the stubbles for game. As their backs were turned towards him, however, he entertained a hope of avoiding them, and was quickening his steps across an angle of the field, when a sharp, joyful whine of canine recognition sounded in his ears, and a handsome pointer sprung almost into his arms, and then gamb bolled around him, uttering a succession of short, glad barks. At the same moment one of the sportsmen turned round, and

endeavoured to recall the animal to its duty, by shouts of "Malbro! Malbro! Come here, you brute! Malbro!"

But Malbro was deaf to the voice; for Rivers was stooping down to stroke and pat the pointer he himself had trained, and who had now found his old friend and master.

"Poor Malbro!" he said, and tears almost filled his eyes as he returned the caresses of his favourite. "So you have a new master now; poor Malbro! I hope you are treated kindly, good old dog!"

Once more the recall was uttered in harsher tones, but without avail; and then the sportsmen strode over the stubble towards Rivers.

"The dog seems to know you, sir," said one of them when they were within speaking distance of the young man, who was still bending over the affectionate creature; and at the sound of his voice Henry rose, and almost proudly returned the greeting.

"He should do so, Sir Richard. May I hope that, now he has a new master, he shows as good qualities as he did with his old one? You find him well broken in, I hope."

The sportsman who had spoken hastily advanced and frankly offered his hand. "I did not know you, Henry. I had no idea of seeing you, did not know you were in the country. I hope you will believe me when I say that I am very glad to see you, and to see you looking so well." And he shook hands heartily with Harry, who made suitable response.

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Staying at the Priory, I suppose, Mr. Henry?" continued Sır Richard; and Henry answered in the affirmative.

"Did I not understand you were going abroad?" the baronet asked.

"I am going to leave England in the course of a few weeks, Sir Richard but I was weak enough to wish to see the old spot once more, and so

"Don't say weak, Mr. Henry. I honour you for it. And, not