one thing. Don't say anything about this interview in a certain quarter."

"In which quarter, sir?"

"Bless you," said the Squire, testily; "is there more than one quarter? The head-master's quarter-Arthur's quarter. Don't tell him of this, man. We have been half maddened, you and I, by this business; but I hope we have both brains enough left to know a bully when we see one and Arthur is that. But, mind you, I love Arthur better than all the world besides, and have made him my heir. He tells you everything, I believe. How is his

health?"

"His health is perfect, sir." "You know nothing, I see. those fainting fits are nothing. that vagabond villain, Tom?"

But the doctors say that
Do you ever hear from

If you mean your son Thomas, now rising in the Austrian army, I hear from him very often, sir."

You may let me know about him on a future occasion. Now, sir, if you will do me the kindness to send for the boy Sugden, I think our interview may end. Will you shake hands?"

"Certainly, sir."

That shake was for the sake of your children; take this pat on the shoulder for your own good self. You are a good man, sir; you are a good man. Now quick-the boy Sugden."

CHAPTER XXX.

-GETS INTO THE REGION OF UNUTTERABLE
ASTONISHMENT-

THE Squire had completely changed his manner by the time that the boy Sugden appeared. The reaction from his terrible talk with Algernon had made him sarcastic and peculiar. Our old friend James appeared before him,

looking horribly guilty, but very charming and handsome and the Squire, sitting up in his chair, began on him snarling.

"You are a most charming boy; you are a nice piece of goods you will do, you will. Mr. Silcote, keep your eye on this boy he'll do. What do you think of yourself, sir? Hey?"

James might have said that he thought a great deal of himself, but he didn't. He only stood before the chairman, Squire Silcote, shifting from one leg to the other, looking, as the Squire afterwards told Betts, so confoundedly handsome and amiable that it was a wonder he did not throw the poker at him.

"Silence, hey! Is this obstinacy or stupidity? Is this letter yours, sir?'

It is certainly mine, sir," said James, quietly.

"A cool proposition, that I should send you to Italy at my own expense; and, if possible, my nephew Reginald also! On what grounds, may I most humbly ask, do you base this most astounding demand?"

"It is no demand, sir," said James, looking frankly and slily at him, for he had got to understand him; "it is only a proposition. It is generally considered to be not only a duty, but a privilege, of the rich to patronize and assist genius."

"Certainly," said Silcote. "I allow all that. Would you be so condescending as to show me your genius? You don't happen to have it about you, do you? If you will meet me so far as to take your genius out of your pocket and hand it to me for inspection, I'll begin to think about patronizing it. No more of it, sir. I'll think over it when I've seen your drawings. Come with me, sir. Good night, Mr. Silcote.”

So the Squire and James went away together. "Boy," he said, as he crossed the quadrangle, "I will think of this Italian scheme of yours more fully; I don't think I shall let you go. I will examine your drawings as an amateur, and get them examined by more competent men. Unless their dictum is 'First-rate' I shall not consent. An artist of necessity dissociates himself from all ties

any

of-of kind whatever-and I don't see my way to it. Now I want to see this new matron, lady superintendent, or whatever she calls herself. Take me to her. What do the boys say about her?"

"She is strict, but very kind; we are all very fond of her. I have had a sitting from her."

Indeed, my young Weigall. Did you find her a study worthy of your genius?"

"She has a magnificent head, and her get-up is simply superb. She is worthy of a better pencil than ever mine will be."

"How sweetly modest! This must be the self-depreciation of a true genius. Is this her room? Pray announce me." James, knocking at the door, was told to enter in a kindly quiet voice which attracted the Squire's attention. They passed in together. Silcote saw before him a greyheaded woman, dressed in grey, with a long grey shawl, with her head turned away from him, bending over baskets of linen which she was sorting. She attracted his attention at once, and he began, “I beg your pardon, madam,—' when she turned and looked at him.

Silcote was transfixed with unutterable astonishment. He burst out, "Why, what the!" when she suddenly raised her right hand, and with her left pointed to the boy beside him. Silcote understood in a moment, as he put it to himself mentally, "The cub has not recognised her then." He changed his manner at once. "Madam,"

he said, "I have come, as chairman, to have a talk with you on various matters. Are you at leisure?"

"I am at leisure, sir; at least, if you will allow me to go on with my work. When the hands are idle the memory gets busy. You have found that yourself, sir, I do not doubt."

The Squire swung himself round towards James, and, standing squarer and broader than ever before him, pointed his finger at him, and said—

"Go, and shut the door after you."

Which things James did.

'Now, my dear Mrs. Sugden," said he, pulling up a chair, and sitting down in front of her, "would you be kind enough to let me know the meaning of this?"

Certainly.

now ?

First of all, how did you call me just

"I called you Mrs. Sugden."

That is not my name. It was, and is still, that of my half-brother, who passed for my husband when I lived in your little cottage at Beechwood! but it is not mine."

"Your half-brother?" said Silcote. "Was not Sugden your husband, then?"

66

No, only half-brother. His mother was not the same as mine. Our common father, a twenty-acre freeholder in Devonshire, married twice. The name of his first wife, of my brother's mother, was Coplestone; the name of his second wife, my mother, was Lee."

Then how shall I call you? Mrs. Morgan?"

"Not at all. A mere nom de guerre, which I assumed when they objected to the title I bore at St. Peter's, 'Sister Mary.' Nothing more than that."

"Then perhaps, madam, to facilitate conversation, you would put me in possession of your style and titles."

"I am Mrs. Thomas Silcote, your unworthy, but dutiful daughter-in-law," she said very quietly.

The Squire fell back in his chair. "Don't regard me, my dear madam; I have the constitution of a horse. If I had not, I should have been in Bedlam, or the grave years ago. Let us have it out, madam. I thought there were Silcotes enough encumbering the face of the earth. There don't happen to be any more of you, I suppose?"

"There is James, you know," said Mrs. Thomas Silcote, smiling. "He makes another. I don't think there are any more."

"Quite so," said Silcote. "James. I begin to collect myself. James, then, is my lawful grandson?"

"Most certainly. Do you desire proofs ?"

A

"Not if you assert it. You yourself are a standing proof of every proposition that comes out of your mouth." "I was a labourer's daughter," said Mrs. Thomas. twenty-acre free-holder is a labourer, is he not?" "I don't believe a word of it," said Silcote.

"I thought you were bound to believe everything I said a minute ago?

(

"Don't fence with me. It is not fair. You utterly ruin my nerves, and then begin what these low boys here call chaffing.' Will you explain to me how all this came

about?"

"Not to-night."

"You really must in part. How on earth did you come here?"

"Merely by answering an advertisement."

"Does Betts know nothing?"

"Not a word. It is all between you and me. And it must remain there."

"How was it that the boy did not recognise you?" "Time, time, time!"

Silcote sat perfectly silent. "Time works wonders," he said, at last. "You wanted to see him, I suppose, and you risked his recognising you?"

"See him!" said Mrs. Silcote. "I wanted to touch him, I wanted to kiss him; but I cannot do that. Do you remember, one day in your garden, pointing out to me that it would be a drawback to the boy if his low parentage was known?"

"I do. God forgive me if I did wrong."

"You did right: even speaking from what you knew then. I know you, Silcote, as a good and kind man, though you have tried hard to sell yourself to the evil one. And so I tell you this: that I have doubts in my utter ignorance, whether the world would take my marriage to be a legal one; and, therefore, I have remained unknown. to the boy."

Where, and how, were you married?"

"In Scotland." And she told him the particulars.

"Bless the woman!" he exclaimed.

"You are as much my daughter-in-law as if you had been married in St. George's Hanover Square, with eighteen bridesmaids. I wish I had known this. Once more, will you tell me the whole story?"

"Not to-night."

"There is no reason against your letting the boy know who your are."

"Let it be let it be.

The father is outlawed, and the