speaking as a friend of your father's: if I
had any other thought or hope, of course
that is at an end. I am quite disinterested."

"I am aware of that," said Margaret,
forcing herself to speak in an indifferent careless
way. " I am aware of what I must appear
to you, but the secret is another person's,
and I cannot explain it without doing him
harm."

"I have not the slightest wish to pry into
the gentleman's secrets," he said, with growing
anger. " My own interest in you is—
simply that of a friend. You may not
believe me, Miss Hale, but it is—in spite of the
persecution I'm afraid I threatened you with
at one time — but that is all given up; all
passed away. You believe me, Miss Hale ?"

"Yes," said Margaret, quietly and sadly.

"Then, really, I don't see any occasion for
us to go on walking together. I thought,
perhaps you might have had something to say,
but I see we are nothing to each other. If
you're quite convinced that any foolish passion
on my part is entirely over, I will wish you
good afternoon." He walked off very hastily.

" What can he mean? " thought Margaret
—" what could he mean by speaking so, as if
I were always thinking that he cared for me,
when I know he does not; he cannot. His
mother will have said all those cruel things
about me to him. But I won't care for him.
I surely am mistress enough of myself to
control this wild, strange, miserable feeling,
which tempted me even to betray my own
dear Frederick, so that I might but regain,
his good opinion; the good opinion of a man
who takes such pains to tell me that I am
nothing to him. Come! poor little heart!
be cheery and brave. We'll be a great deal
to one another if we are thrown off and left
desolate."

Her father was almost startled by her
merriment this morning. She talked
incessantly, and forced her natural humour to an
unusual pitch; and if there was a tinge of
bitterness in much of what she said; if her
accounts of the old Harley Street set were
a little sarcastic, her father could not bear to
check her, as he would have done at another
time — for he was glad to see her shake off her
cares. In the middle of the evening she was
called down to speak to Mary Higgins; and
when she came back, Mr. Hale imagined
that he saw traces of tears on her cheeks.
But that could not be, for she brought good
news— that Higgins had got work at Mr.
Thornton's mill. Her spirits were damped
at any rate, and she found it very difficult to
go on talking at all, much more in the wild
way that she had done. For some days
her spirits varied strangely; and her
father was beginning to be anxious about
her, when news arrived from one or two
quarters that promised some change and
variety for her. Mr. Hale received a letter
from Mr. Bell, in which that gentleman
volunteered a visit to them; and Mr. Hale
imagined that the promised society of his old
Oxford friend would give as agreeable a turn
to Margaret's ideas as it did to his own.
Margaret tried to take an interest in what
pleased her father ; but she was too languid
to care about any Mr. Bell, even though he
were twenty times her godfather. She was
more roused by a letter from Edith, full of
sympathy about her aunt's death ; full of
details about herself, her husband, and child;
and at the end saying, that as the climate did
not suit the baby, and as Mrs. Shaw was
talking of returning to England, she thought
it probable that Captain Lennox might sell
out, and that they might all go and live again
in the old Harley Street house ; which,
however, would seem very incomplete without
Margaret. Margaret yearned after that old
house, and the placid tranquillity of that old
well-ordered monotonous life. She had felt
it occasionally tiresome while it lasted ; but
since then she had been buffeted about, and
felt so exhausted by this recent struggle with
herself that she thought that even stagnation
would be a rest and a refreshment. So she
began to look towards a long visit to the
Lennoxes on their return to England as to a
point — no, not of hope— but of leisure, in
which she could regain her power and
command over herself. At present it seemed to
her as if all subjects tended towards Mr.
Thornton ; as if she could not forget him
with all her endeavours. If she went to see
the Higginses, she heard of him there ; her
father had resumed their readings together,
and quoted his opinions perpetually ; even
Mr. Bell's visit brought his tenant's name
upon the tapis ; for he wrote word that he
believed he must be occupied some great
part of his time with Mr. Thornton, as a new
lease was in preparation, and the terms of it
must be agreed upon.

A MAIL-PACKET TOWN.

ALL the world knows that Southampton,
situated about midway in the British Channel,
offers a convenient and safe harbour for vessels
of all kinds. All the world ought to know it,
for the fact is a very old one; it was common
knowledge in the reign of Ethelwolf, almost
a thousand years ago. Southampton even
then was an old and thriving town,—good
proof of its prosperity being supplied by the
fact that it was thought worth robbing by
the Danes.

Within the last fourteen years, Southampton
has become a town, and this, too, all the world
very well knows, of first-rate importance to
this country. The South-Western Railway,
providing between London and Southampton
rapid and easy means of transit, so connects
the towns that the Southampton of the
present day has become a channel outport of
London, for the outward and homeward-
bound passengers and mails along the
principal ocean-routes of the world.