suit when you know that she shall never bring you a penny with her."

"I am grieved you should think so meanly of me, Lady Moynehan. Nothing but contempt could have inspired such bitter words. You force me to tell you that I will marry Millicent in spite of you."

"Mr. Frere! Do you dare say this to me?" "I do; and for this reason: you have impugned my motives. It is only by winning her in your teeth, and penniless, that I can hope to prove the disinterestedness of my love. For my own credit I am bound to persevere.”

"At your peril be it. She is only eighteen. You cannot marry her, without my consent, even if—if—" Lady Moynehan grew agitated; and the tears filled her eyes as she remembered that the darling for whose love they were disputing, might never live to thank her for her care,-"if she recovers,-until she is of age."

"I can wait longer than that. I could wait till doomsday, Lady Moynehan, if there were but a gleam of hope in the distance.”

"Distinctly I tell you, Mr. Frere, that I give

you no iota of hope. I refuse most distinctly and unreservedly."

"I will take my dismissal from no lips but Millicent's own."

"No, no; of course not. But I must and will see her again."

"You shall never see her again with my consent, or in my house."

There was again a pause, and the two were looking hard at each other. If Lady Moynehan had been a judge, she might have read a very firm, fixed resolution in Alured Frere's face. But she could not understand what she saw.

"And I must beg of you, Mr. Frere, to leave the house."

'Oh, Lady Moynehan, do not send me away now not to-night; let me stay and hear what happens, at least till there is a change for the better."

"It goes against the grain to be inhospitable; but after what has happened, I should be uncomfortable if you remained another night under my roof."

"For God's sake, let me wait until—" "Mr. Frere, I must ask you to make arrangements to leave at once.”

"I will go, of course. And it is to be war

to the knife ?"

"From this time forth we must meet as strangers. I must repeat emphatically that I forbid your communicating with Millicent. I would say that I trust you will not tamper with my servants; but I have no hope of such upright straightforwardness from you."

Alured bowed his head, but did not seek to justify himself.

"You have got your congé, remember that," said Lady Moynehan at last. “Be a man, if possible, and abide by what I have said."

What had turned Lady Moynehan from her former kindliness to this fierce injustice? Had despair and terror at Millicent's accident unhinged her, driving her to use language foreign to her real nature and feelings? No; there must be more than this.

From the moment he had spoken of Surman, her manner changed. No longer disposed, with kindly effort, to wean him from an ill-advised

attachment, she was now quite defiant and impracticable. Alured wished, from the bottom of his heart, that he had left Starkie's advice alone.

Then he sent for a cab, and had himself driven back, dejected and downcast, to his hut at Claycliffe Camp.

CHAPTER VIII.

AFTER THE BATTLE.

"Ich blick' in mein Herz und ich blick' in die Welt,
Bis vom schimmernden Auge die Thräne mir fällt ;
Wohl leuchtet die Ferne mit goldenem Licht,
Doch hält mich der Nord-ich erreiche sie nicht
O die Schranken so eng, und die Welt so weit,
Und so fluchtig die Zeit!"

(Translation.)

GEIBEL.

I look in the world, and I look in my heart,
Till fast to mine eyes the bitter tears start;

The distance beams brightly, so golden and fair,

But the north holds me fast: I shall reach it-oh,

ne'er.

How narrow the bound! and the world is so vast;
And time flies so fast!

FRERE had neither brain fever next morning, nor did he cut his throat. It was true he had fought his battle of love, and lost it. Goodcot had been his Moscow; the defeat endured overwhelming. And yet, like other ambitious soldiers, he began at once to cast about to retrieve his fortunes, determined that by no