beneath his aspiring roof; but there was one thing lacking yet the love, the fond affection, the kindred ties, which made Maud look back even to the little despised house upon the hill as a haven of peace and comfort.

CHAPTER VI.

"But now we sat

Stranger than strangers; till I caught
And answer'd Mildred's smile,

And pleased we talk'd the old days o'er.
The Angel in the House.

HEN Julian returned late in the evening, a third figure was sitting, still and silent as a statue, in the armchair

beside the fire in the drawing-room.

Well accustomed to the habits of the house, he opened the door softly, and his noiseless step on the thick aubusson carpet disturbed neither the sleepers nor the dreamer.

Mr. Murray's easychair was pushed back into a snug corner, where neither the air from the open window, nor the crackling blaze of the fire on the hearth could possibly interfere with his individual comfort. His breathing, now low, now prolonged into a decidedly nasal strain, left no doubt of the fact that he was fast asleep; neither was it hard

to divine that the eyes of the other, and perhaps the most important occupant of the room, were sealed by slumber rather than closed in meditation, for the form was quiescent, the face expressionless.

Mrs. Murray sat in a half-reclining position near the open window; the days of her grace and elegance had long gone by, beauty and symmetry having alike vanished beneath the influence of years of luxury and self-indulgence. Time had been when that flushed face was remarkable for a certain delicacy of feature and complexion, almost amounting to beauty; but an excessive embonpoint now marred both face and form, and yet brought with it none of that voluptuous softness which in some women almost replaces the lost freshness of their youth. Hers could never have been a very pleasing countenance, yet open, the large, dark eyes were almost pretty still; they did not betray so much hard selfishness as did the thin lines of the tightly closed mouth.

Maud inherited these same lustrous orbs; but the soul which shone out from beneath her darklyfringed lids betrayed the wide difference in character between aunt and niece, even more than the striking incongruity of colouring and figure. Julian only remembered her as a pretty little girl; but

the face that caught his eye, the moment he entered, was decidedly something more. The room was almost dark, save where shaded lamps cast a concentrated light; one stood on a table beside Maud, its brilliant rays lending to both face and figure the semblance of a living picture. There she sat in an attitude of entire repose, her large soft eyes fixed on the bright caverns of the glowing fire, searching into their light with that far-stretching gaze, which is rather the looking out of the soul into futurity, than the perception of palpable objects by the mortal sense. Her thoughts were far away, but none the less had they brought a warmer colour to her cheek, than had glowed there for many a long day, and the curved lines of the red lips were parted, as though she were about to speak.

Julian advanced slowly, with the instinctive feeling, that if he came too near the spell might break, and this fair vision change its aspect; but Rusty was not equally prudent, he crept forward from behind his master to see whom this might be, and unceremoniously thrust his cold nose into the little white hand that hung over the arm of the chair. This proceeding on his part effectually startled Maud from her reverie. She looked up and coloured

with surprise, for there stood Julian on the hearthrug close to her.

"I did not mean to startle you," said he, in his kindly voice, and holding out his hand.

It was not difficult for him to guess that it was the coldness of her reception of a few hours back, which gave an uncertainty to her manner, even though she greeted him with apparent self-possession.

"I thought I should find you arrived,” proceeded he, as he seated himself before the fire, just near enough to carry on a low-voiced conversation. "But where is your brother? I hoped he would come."

Maud explained that Herbert was gone to London. "We must get him to come down and stay one of these days. I must talk to my uncle about it. Of course he must be here for Ascot, but you will like to see him before then."

Her face even more than her words betrayed her satisfaction at the prospect.

"I cannot recollect whether Herbert was ever here," remarked she. "I know Arthur came to Bankside for both Christmas and summer holidays."

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Oh, yes! Arthur was here of course, and I think Herbert came over from Addiscombe more