"This? Indeed, Alured, I don't dare to think of it. I suppose I ought to tell her?"

"I haven't the courage to face her."

"You are a poor timid creature; at least I always thought so till this evening."

Oh, that's quite a different pair of shoes. I'd do it again, and more, for the same prize."

Millicent did not seek to discuss the question further then. She gave way to the happiness of the moment, remembering only that she was walking hand in hand with Alured Frere.

"Love took up the glass of time and turned it in his glowing hands;

Every moment lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands."

Wherever have you been, child? What has kept you out so late?" asked her ladyship rather sharply, when Millicent ran upstairs.

Oh, auntie, it was so fine, and the air was so pleasant."

"And the company so delightful," said Lady Moynehan enigmatically. "Come, young lady, suppose I were to insist upon a full, true, and

particular account of your sayings and doings

since I saw you last?"

“Oh, Auntie, not now, not now."

"And why not now?"

"I must go and dress; I have barely time. It's so late."

"It is late, but not too late I hope," replied Lady Moynehan, still speaking in parables.

Millicent would not understand. She knew she must tell her aunt all that had passed; but with Alured's kisses still warm upon her cheek, it seemed like sacrilege to speak of the new found love.

And now Lady Moynehan began to be glad that they were going up to London.

CHAPTER V.

IN PURSUIT.

"O winna ye pity me, fair maid,
O winna ye pity me?

O winna ye pity a courteous knight,
Whose love is laid on thee?'

"Ye say ye are a courteous knight,
But I think ye are nane:

I think ye're but a miller lad

By the colour o' your claithing.""

The Ballad of the Proud Lady Margaret.

EVENTS had followed each other so quickly that Alured could hardly rouse himself to the reality of his new found happiness. The whole aspect of his life was changed. He pulled his horse up to a walk that he might linger the longer over his journey home. The woods through which he rode, carpeted with fir spindles and scented with the odours of wild flowers, were so hushed that he could hear the beating of his own heart. Not a sound to mar the memory of Millicent's voice, every note of which still lingered in his ears, not a movement in the sky

or landscape to disturb his reveries of her. A bright summer moon flooded all around in tender haze, lengthening the vistas of the long rides straight cut through the forest, and strewing a thousand strange shadows across his path. The calm of the peaceful night beat in perfect unison with the feelings paramount in his breast. Joy, love, gratitude towards Millicent made his future as beautiful as the face of external nature, sleeping in the rich radiance of the moonlight. Perhaps his waking thoughts were less rap

turous.

A man is apt to see things differently of a morning. First of all his conscience smote him that his courtship thus far had been clandestine and unrevealed. It seemed such a poor return to Lady Moynehan for all her kindness, to win Millicent's affections thus without a word. Alured was half disposed to ride over to King's Lilies at once, and make a clean breast of it. But then a certain terror got the upper hand of him. Suppose Lady Moynehan rejected him out of hand, could he face the blow so soon and suddenly? He begged a day or two's grace from himself, hoping that in the meantime Millicent would smooth the way. And this

train of thought brought him to the difficulties of his undertaking. Could he hope to succeed, being so ineligible? What could he offer Millicent? Neither settlements, nor an assured position, nor a comfortable home. It was only natural that Lady Moynehan should think twice before she allowed him to prosecute his suit. If she would only give him time-time to win his spurs and to prove himself worthy. Millicent had promised to wait. He felt capable of any effort to win her in the end.

One other way there might be. Perhaps he could coerce Lady Moynehan into consent. Many years were gone since that curious scene in Moynehan Castle; but the event was not forgotten by Alured, though buried out of sight. What if he traded upon its memory now? He barely gave himself time to consider how this might be done. With the instinct of a loyal gentleman, he dismissed the temptation as unworthy. He had been wrong so far, in having drifted into secret underhand ways; he would not add to his guilt. He blamed himself enough already.

From this time forth a great change came