Philistia

wan green of their early spring foliage. The ragged robins were hanging out, pinky red, from the hedgerows; the cuckoo was calling from the copse beside the mill st

re plainly, to Oswald's pretty little sister Edie. For Ernest had fully made up his mind by this time what it was he had come for, and he took the earliest possible opportu

a lovely day one feels loath to miss any of it, and the scenery here looks so bright and cheerful after the endless brown heather and russet bracken about Dunbude. Not that Exmoor isn't beau

blushes at the indirect flattery to herself implied in praise of her

and of course; everything here is on a smaller

onversation to her own quarter, 'is that very fine

y a very big and ugly house. As architecture it's atrocious,

Hilda. Had he fallen in love with her already, or had he not? She knew she would be able to guess the truth by his voice and manner the moment he answered her. No man can hide that secret from a woman who loves him. Yet it was not without a thrill and a flutter that she asked him, for

the one virtue of girls of her class-their perfect frankness. She's frank all over-no reserve or reticence at all about her. Whatever she thinks she says, without the slightest idea that you'll see anything to laugh at or to find fault with in it. In matters of kn

atly relieved, and pulling a few tall grasses at her side by way of hiding her interest

no doubt; but in her case they're only social prejudices, not genuine ethical principles. I don't suppose she ever seriously asked herself whether anything was right or wrong or not in her whole lifetime.

she?' Edie asked, following up

eve most men admire her a great deal; but she lacks a feminine touch dreadfully. She dashes away through everyt

r. Le Breton? I half imagined you would, you

HER, Miss Oswald! Fal

n absurd notion!

so, p

Hilda! I assure you, Miss Oswald, she would evaporate at the very mention of such an unheard-of enormity. A man must be, if not an earl, at leas

n't a duke himself to fall in love with a duke's daughter, even though the duke her papa mayn't personally happen to approve of the m

n ever at the tall grasses; 'Miss Oswald, to tell you the truth, I haven't been thinking much about Hilda Tregellis or any of the other

cond in an enquiring glance at his, and then dropping them hastily as they met, in modest trepi

g her little gloved hand almost unresistingly in his; '

r hand hastily and said with a sigh, 'Mr. Le Breton, we oughtn't to be talking so. We mustn't. Don't let us. Take me home, please, at once, and don't say anything more abo

o rise hesitatingly. 'Why not? tell me. I've looked into your face, and though I can hard

g visibly on either eyelash, 'don't ask me, please don'

is eyes had already told him better. 'Then you can't love me, Miss Oswald,' he said, looking at her clo

rs either-and she answered hurriedly, 'Oh, I don't mean that, Mr. Le Breto

hand again. 'Then you CAN love me, Edi

silently. Ernest took the dainty wee gloved hand between his own tw

you, Edie?' he asked, looking

ade of the big elm-tree, 'it's very wrong of me to let you talk so. I mustn't think of mar

arry me, it must be in the most strictly speculative fashion, with no date and no certainty. The only question is, will you consent to wait for me till I'm able to offer you a home to live in? It's as

e. The difference in station is so great-even Harry would allow the difference in station. Your father was a great man, and a gen

speak to me about his profession. It's one of the griefs and troubles of my life. He was a soldier, and an Indian soldier too; and if there's anything more certain to me than the principle that all fighting is very wrong and indefensible, it's the principle that our rule in In

nctively that Ernest really and deeply meant what he said, and she knew she must not allude to the subject again. 'I beg your

ever-I ought to leave you free to your natural prospect of marrying some better man, who would make you happier than I can ever hope to do. So I tried to put the impulse aside; I waited, saying to myself that if you really cared for me a little bit, you would still care for me when I came to Calcombe Pomeroy. But then my natural selfishness overcame me-you can forgive me for it, Edie; how could I help it when I had once seen you? I began to be afraid some other man would be beforehand with you; and I liked you so much I couldn't bear to think of the chance that you might be taken away from me before I asked you.

y, 'Mr. Le Breton, I will wait for you as long a

you know, Mr. Le Breton, I rather fancied at Oxford you liked me just a little tiny bit; but when I heard you were going to Dunbude I said to myself, "Ah, now he'll never care for a quiet country girl like

asked eagerly. 'You wanted me real

eton. I've liked you from t

s love at first sight. I wouldn't care myself to be loved in any

hed, and to have had so many advantages that I have never had. I

the Cape like the old ones? Capital burlesque at the Gaiety, but very slow at the Lyceum. Who will go to the Duchess of Dorsetshire's dance on the twentieth:-and so forth for ever. Their own petty round of selfish pleasures from week's end to week's end-no thought of anybody else, no thought of the world at large, no thought even of any higher interest in their own personalities. Their politics are just a selfish calculation of their own prospects-land, Church, capital, privilege. Their religion (when they have any) is just a selfish regard for their own personal future welfare. From the time I went to Dunbude to this day, I've never heard a single word about any higher thought of any sort-I don't mean only about the troubles or the aspirations of other people, but even about books, about science, about art, about natural beauty. They live in a world of amusing oneself and of amusing oneself in vulg

tering down the steep High Street of Calcombe Pomeroy, on her way to the village grocer's. She shambled in tremulously to Mrs. Oswald's counter, a

pity he wasn't at some decent trade, instead of hanging about and doing nothing, as if he was a gentleman. Five pounds of lump sugar, too; good lump sugar, though I expect I shall get nothing but beetroot; it's all beetroot now, my brother tells me; they've ruined the West Indies with their emancipation fads and their differential duties and the Lord knows what-we had estates in the West Indies ourselves, all given up to our negroes nowadays-and now I

we're glad to let him have a little rest after working so hard at Oxford. He works too hard, ma'am, but he gets compensation for it, don't 'ee see,

young man, your son, doubtless; but a National schoolmaster's hardly likely to be made a Fellow of the Royal Society. Oh, I remember you told me he's not a National schoolmaster, but has something to do at one of the Oxford colleges

y; and if you'll wait a moment, ma'am, I'll fetch you th

where he's lodging? I want to ask him to dinner. He's a young Mr. Le Breton-one of the Cheshire Le Bretons, you know. His father was Sir Owen Le Breton, a general in the Indian army-brother officer of Major Standish Luttrell's and very nice people in every way. Lady Le Breton's a great friend of the Archdeacon's, so I should like to show her son some little attention. He's had a very distinguished career at Oxford-your boy may have heard his name, perhaps-and now he's acting as tutor to Lord

e Rector, Colonel Turnbull, and young Luttrell; 'but as to Mr. Le Breton, I DO happen to know where he's stopping, though it's not often that I know any Calcombe gos

s time in genuine surprise; 'why, I didn't know you let lodgings. I thought you and your daughte

uest. They were friends at Oxford together: and now that Mr. Le Breton has got his holiday, like, Harry's asked him down to spend a fortnight at Cal

ulous in a regular field officer. No doubt Ernest Le Breton had taken up some equally extraordinary notions-liberty, equality, fraternity, and a general massacre, probably; and he had picked up Harry Oswald as a suitable companion in his revolutionary schemes and fancies. There was no knowing what stone wall one of those mad Le Bretons might choose to run his head against. Still, the practical difficulty remained-how could she extricate herself from this awkward dilemma in such a way as to cover herself with glory, and inflict another bitter humiliation on poor Mrs. Oswald? If onl

they mean no good by it. Take my advice, Mrs. Oswald, and don't permit it. Mr. Le Breton's a very nice young man, and well brought up no doubt-I know his mother's a woman of principle-still, young men will be young men; and if your son goes bringing down his fine Oxford acquaintances to Calcombe Pomeroy, and you and your husband go flinging Miss Jemima-her name's Jemima, I think-at the young men's heads, why, then, of course, you must take the consequences-you must take the consequences!' And with this telling Parthian shot discharged carefully from the shadow of the doorway, accompanied by a running c

knew at once from Edie's radiant blushing face and moist eyes what had taken place, and she kissed the pretty

?' asked Edie, relieved that she ne

mother, kissing her aga

. 'I said "yes," mother

answered gently; 'and I'm sure he

best fellow I know, and I couldn't wish you a better or a kinder husband. You'll have to wait for him, but he's worth waiting for. He's a good fellow and a clever fellow, and an affectionate fellow; and his family

erself, and she was hurt that Harry should think and speak of it at such a moment. She felt with a sigh it was unwo