Marcella

s sister, enthusiastically; "but I

the disheartening task of civilising Mellor. Mary Harden was naturally a short, roundly made girl, neither pretty nor plain, with grey-blue eyes, a shy manner, and a heart all goodness. Her brother was like unto her-also short, round, and full-faced, with the same attractive eyes. Both were singularly young in aspect-a boy and girl pair. Both had the worn, pinched look which Mrs. Boyce complained of, and which, indeed

Why in the name of all good manners and decency had he allowed himself to be discovered in shooting trim, on that particular morning, by Mr. Boyce's daughter on her father's land, and within a stone's throw of her father's house? Was he not perfectly well aware of the curt note which his grandfather had that morning despatched to the new owner of Mellor? Had he not ine

public property, and Miss Harden's burdens had cried aloud to any passing male to help her. But why in this neighbourhood at all?-why n

nd then the Hardens began to plan out operations. Miss Harden ran over on her fingers the contributions which had been sent in to the rectory, or were presently coming over to the church in a hand-cart. "Lord Maxwell has sent the most beautiful pots for the chancel," she said, with a grateful look at young Raeburn. "It will be quite a show." To which the young rector assented warmly

shed as he w

e have nothing. There are the houses, but there is nothing in them. But you shall have all our out-of-door

tood in the background, and led Mary Harden into an eager aski

l, whose quivering sensitive look as she stood talking to the Hardens touched him profoundly. Mellor church might almost be regarded as the Boyces' private chapel, so bound up was it with the family and the house. He realised painfully that he ought to be gone-yet could not tear himself away. Her passionate willingness to spend herself for the place and peo

new spectacle upon which she had entered. The old house, its associations, its history, the beautiful country in which it lay, the speech and characteristics of rural labour as compared with that of the town,-he had heard her talk of all these things with a freshness, a human sympathy, a freedom from conventional phrase, and, no doubt, a touch of egotism and extravagance, which rivetted attention. The egotism and extravagance, however, after a first moment of critical discomfort on his part, had not i

am stupid! I have left the scissors and the wire on the table a

is the hand-cart just arrived and some people come t

own the church, and was out of the south door before the Hardens h

d he went after the fugitive, overtaking her just

d, as he caught her up. "My dog

rdly looked at

quickly, "I shou

altered his usually quiet, self-conta

d fresh loads to bring back. If it's like our harv

es were still

e on your way to s

y; if I can be useful. Both the

are you

enant there who wants to see me. He is a prosy person with a host o

re-my father has just been telling me-that your father and

n supremely uncomfortable. In his disquiet, he thought of various things to say; but he was n

rt was beating fast. Sh

Rae

es

question? Your father and mine were great friends, weren't t

heard so," said her compan

le Robert-Lor

as anybody

her. Well then, if you won't mind telling me-I know it's bold to ask, but I have reasons-why does Lord Maxwell write t

hand which trembled against her dress and in the twitching lip-if it had been fine acting, it could not have been more complete. And, in a sense, acting there was in i

imself. He ought never to have intruded; it was odious, unpardonable; he had no business whatever to put himself in her way! Would she please understand that it wa

contracted. She took his

. But I resolved there-in the church-that I would make just one effort, before everything crystallises, to break through. If we must live on here hating our neighbours and being cut by them, I thought I would just ask you why, first. There is no one else to ask. Hardly anybody has called, except the Har

n fine instincts both of race and conduct coming to his help. He m

e, I know hardly anything in detail. I do not remember that I have ever wished to know. But I gather that some years ago-when I was still a lad-something in Mr. Boyce's life-some financial matters, I belie

lla s

now," she s

burn's dis

t I want to answer what you said-I do indeed. It was that, I think, chiefly. Everybody here

rcella, her chest heavi

was going, her eyes dim with tears. There was a

ave been some harsh judgment. My grandfather may ha

th the awkwardness of w

lla under

not ungratefully, but still with a touch of sarcasm in her

he said, turning upon her a face in which she could

er than this-this, which-which-is so painful. And any way, Miss Boyce, whatever happens, will you let me say this once, that there is no word, no feeling in this neighbourhood-how could there

ill. So shall I, of course. But I am sorry-horribly sore and sorry! I was so delighted to come here. I have been very little at home, and understood hardly anything about this

September morning against a great belt of distant beechwood which begirt the hamlet and the common along which it lay. The stubble field was a feast of shade and tint, of apricots and golds shot with the subtlest purples and browns; the flame of the wild-cherry

folds; for the moment, in her tall grace, she had the air of some young Victory poised upon a height, till you looked at her face, which was, indeed, not exultant at all,

are very poor-the house is all out of repair, and the estate, as of course you know, is in a wretched condition. But when I see these cottages, and the water, and the children, I ask what right we have to anything we get. I had some friends in London who were Socialists, and I followed and agreed with them, but here one sees! Yes, indeed!

again. A woman's speculations were easi

lor cottages are in a bad state certainly. But you have no idea ho

ly after harvest. He sees no prospect of getting work by the winter. He spends his days tramping to look for it; but nothing turns up. Last winter they parted with all they could sell. This winter it must be the workhouse! It's heart-breaking. And he has a mind; he can feel! I lend him the Labour paper I take in, and get him to talk. He has more education than most, and oh! the bitterness at the bottom of him. But not against persons-individuals. It is like a sort of blind patience when you come to that-they make excuses even for Uncle Robert, to whom they have paid rent all these years for a cottage which is a crime-yes, a crime! The woman must have been such a pretty creature-and refined too.

and him. In an instant her quick imagination realised herself as the daughter and niece of two discredited members of a great class. When she attacked the class, or the system, the man beside her-any man in similar circumstances-must naturally think: "Ah, well, poor girl-Dick Boyce's daughter-what can you expect?" Whereas-Aldous Raeburn!-she th

duty as they understand it-no one denies that. But that does not affect the system; the grandson of the best man may be the worst, but his one-man power remains the

ralisations against the Maxwell power-to show the heir of it that she at least-father or no father-wa

p with him-too deep for chance discussion. What she said, if he ever stopped to think of it in itself, seemed to him a compound of elements derived partly from her personal history, partly from the random opinions that young people of a generous type pick up from newspapers and magazines. She had touched his

ed? I thought I had observed-pardon me for saying it-on the two or three occasions we have met, some degenerate signs of individualism? You take pleasure in the old place, you say; you were de

denly into a delightful laugh-a laugh of humorous

ers for touching their hats to me. I love the school children for bobbing to me. I

please!" he interrupted; "I t

e left all alone out in the cold, I shall still have room enough to be proud in-proud of the old house and our few bits of pictures, and the family papers, and the beeches! How absurd it would seem to other people, who have so much more! But I have had so little

one to a painful task, a note which once more left Aldous Raeburn's self-restraint tottering. She was walking gently beside him, her pretty dress trailing lightly over the dry stubble,

t over

out of present difficulties. Meanwhile, however things go, could

ill. But inwardly her quick dramatising imagination was already constructing her own future and his. The ambition to rule leapt in her, and the delight in conquest. It was with a delicious sense of her own power,

road began, and almost in sight of the little vicarage. Aldous Raeburn, with his hand

said, and with a smile put the cluster of white seed-tufts an

o. "And don't you think, Mr. Raeburn, that you might open that gat