CHAPTER XXIV.

ROBERT SHERBORNE'S SUMMONS HOME.

IT was one morning at the end of August, that, as Alice took up the Times, her eyes fell on the following paragraph :—“ We regret to announce the death of the Hon. Frederick Sherborne, only son of Viscount Condover. He was thrown from his horse while hunting, and received such severe injuries, that he only survived a few hours."

"Mamma, did you see this?" said Alice, as, with a heightened colour, she handed the paper to her mother. Why this is Mr. Sherborne's cousin, of whom he was so fond. He so often talked of him as such a promising young man, and such a comfort to his father and mother. How very sad!"

Beyond the natural expressions of concern suggested by so sad an event, no particular remarks were made;

but it was impossible not to foresee the importance of the event, as it regarded Robert Sherborne.

The same paragraph was read that morning by Miss

Harley to Canon Leslie.

will bring Robert home.

“Why, Reginald, surely this

His father is the next heir,

and he is the eldest son, so there will be no need for him to farm any more."

They were quite right in their conjectures, for the following letter was posted for Australia by the next mail by Mr. Sherborne.

"MY DEAREST BOY,-

You will be shocked to hear the news I have to send you. Poor Frederick has been thrown from his horse out hunting, and only survived his severe injuries a few hours. It happened within a few miles of the house where they were all staying; and he was brought in immediately. He was quite conscious and did not suffer very much, and was able to say a great Ideal to his father and mother.

"I need not-indeed, I cannot-describe their grief. You know what a son he was, in every respect. He was always very fond of you, and he did not forget you in his last moments; for his father tells me that

he said, 'Give my parting love to dear Robert! May God bless him!'

"The funeral took place a few days ago. I went over to Drysdale for it. All the tenants on the estate were present he was so much beloved. Your poor uncle begged me to stay over the next day. He said it was better to do all that was necessary at once; and he wished me to know from himself, that henceforth he should look upon you as his son. And he begged that I would lose no time in writing to ask you to come home at once. I cannot think of my joy in seeing you again without a pang, when I dwell on the event which brings you home. Your mother sends her warmest love.

Ever your affectionate Father,

R. SHERBORNE."

Before this letter reached Robert Sherborne, he had received an answer to his confessions to Canon Leslie. The letter had filled him with hopeful joy; and consequently he read the sad tidings of his cousin's death and his summons to return home with very mixed feelings. He was sincerely attached to his cousin, and his sudden death was a true grief, as well as a

great shock to him. But the prospect of returning to England, and of again meeting Alice, was overpowering. One mail would precede him, and by that he would write to his father and to Leslie, to say he was making every arrangement for giving up his farm as soon as possible, and had secured a berth in the Cambrian, which would reach England early in January.

To Leslie, he added: "I dare scarcely look forward. And yet your words have given me such joy, to feel that in these years past I have not been forgotten! You will give me an early invitation to Norhambury, I am sure; will you not, my dear fellow? I look upon you just now as my sheet-anchor."

"That we will, dear Aunt Jane!" said Reginald Leslie, as he read this letter aloud to Miss Harley. "He shall come here when he likes, and for as long as he likes. I shall go round this afternoon, and tell Mrs. Eversley that he is actually to arrive in January. I think I had better not go at tea-time, or another cream-jug will be upset!"

That evening Alice's countenance was one of peaceful happiness; and when her mother kissed her at night, it was with unusual tenderness. And she whispered into her ear

"My child! I can read your thoughts. I ask no

questions."

Alice threw her arms around her mother's neck. "My beloved mother, how grateful I am to you.” It was now late in November, and Alice took her place at the usual dinner-parties with a light and happy heart. Christmas came; and, mingled with its higher joys, came the thought to her mind-" Will this be my last Christmas at home?"

The merry peal of St. Peter's Church, as was the custom, rang in the New Year; and the arrival of the Cambrian was expected before it was many days old. Alice had learnt already where to look for the shipping news; and to that corner of the papers she turned every morning.

It was on the 5th of January, that, as usual on coming down to breakfast, she took up the paper. She had scarcely cast her eyes upon it, when she gave one piercing scream, and fell fainting on the nearest chair. Mrs. Eversley flew to her.

"What is the matter, Alice? What is it?"

But Alice could not speak.

"Look, Evelyn! look! and see what can have

happened which has had such an effect upon her."