A Bottle in the Smoke

triumphing, trouble falling on the innocent and helpless, and the loving God, to Whom she had tried to point Rosie in their quiet hours, appeared to be taking no notice. Mrs. Harbottle's bitter taunt

what should be done to prove Rosie's innocence, of which she was completely convinced. Great was her surprise when she saw coming up the broad white steps, not her husband, but the "elusive Mr. Morpeth,"

ould not come in, he just wanted to bring her some good news. He went on to explain that he had heard the lamentation of her little maid

take that ring.' I got into my carriage again and presently I saw two kites having a duel almost above my head, then something bright

eld out the r

ry bitter over the accusation which she knew to be false. She thought her gods must be angry with Rosie, and that it was all over with her. This is a beautiful clearing up! Now, since you won't come in, will it be too much to ask if you will step across with me to Mrs. Harbottle's and unfold th

gh the thief is still a-flying. But please don't ask me to face Mrs. Harbottle," said Mr. Morpeth, shrugging his shoul

charitable? What if Mrs. Harbottle thinks I've invented the story to

who was wresting the prize from the thief, and I fear we can't summon him! Well, I suppose there's nothing for it bu

could for it. Surely that man ought to be punished for his cruelty. I

dies hard. However, in this case I shall deal with the butler in a way he will feel-also with Mrs. Harbottle. I shall be able to tell them I saw the child's hand with my own eyes. Perhaps that will frighten them sufficiently, you need not trouble yourself further," Mr. Morpeth added, looking at the fair young w

ame that wh

weet than ho

s that seemed to Hester like a b

h of that Love which seemed so near and dear to th

mory to the little Rosie in days to come," added Mr. Mo

Morpeth, I thank you with all my heart," w

aster of the house came hurrying round the corner of the walk that led from the stables.

of Vepery landing at our door!" he muttered, hurrying forward and glancing with an air of insole

have the--" "the pleasure" he was about to say, but with a cruel

a moment he seemed about to speak, then, sha

ester, who had turned in the hall when she heard her husband's voi

female-that man Morpeth or anybody else-to come and crawl about my verandah on any pretext whatever! It's sheer forwardn

r. Rayner could not see his wife's face, or perhaps he would not have gone so far. She

ery wrong about this! You cannot

od looking at her retreating figure with a half repentant air, then he shrugged his shoulder

r the hoofs of his horses. Mark had been vividly reminded of the incident when he observed Mr. Morpeth's evident agitation at the sight of Hester on Mrs. Fellowes' lawn. Possibly the old man thought Mr. Rayner was also of the party, and shrank from meeting him. In the interest of his talk with the gracious host in his own library, the recollection of the painful scene in the mail-phaeton had been overlaid for Mark. Since then h

re gentle Mrs. Bellairs' fears concerning this union too likely to be realised? He was at the moment engaged in writing to that anxious mother far away. What could he say now to alleviate her fears, t

f temper on Rayner's part. What mattered all his show of hospitality to himself while such feelings lurked beneath it? Might it not have been safer for the guarding of that trusty friendship which he desired should subsist between Hester and himself if he had not been Alfred Rayner's guest;-if he had not come into such close contact with the man? Yet it pained him to remember that he should have to leave Clive's Road with this impression on his mind. Looking at his watch he saw that it was time to get ready for the late breakfa

merchant clients from Kurrachi. Rayner was at the head of the table smiling affably, vastly gratified at the impression his wife was evidently making upon his important guests. But Mark could not fail to notice that he cast an anxious glance towards her, as if pondering wheth

ng heard an account of the ring from his dressing-boy, tried to make some inquiry concerning it. Hester briefly narrated the story, but from her repres

be run of a repetition of the scene which had shamed her, for she gave no invitation for a future visit. His host, on the contrary, full of surface courtesy, was charging him not to fail to make Clive's Road his home when he chanced to be in Madras. Mark, at the same moment, happened to meet Hester's eye, and read there a look of doubt and pain which