bells, as they rang out their call to worship. But presently the villagers came flocking in, and soon after, the fashion able crowd. Colonel Maxwell's carriage drove up, and Laura joined her father and aunt. The bells closed sharply and quickly, then the organ breathed out soft, beautiful music, and the white-robed choir filed in.

As the sweet notes ceased, footsteps sounded quietly down the aisle, and Laura glanced round. There was her young farmer, dressed in what at first struck her as uncommonly like a handsome, grey, shooting costume. A pair of pale, perfectly-fitting buff kid gloves, gave a “Sunday look" to his appearance however. With him was a tall, gentlemanly young man with light eyes and hair. Both looked at her for an instant; then the tall gentleman walked away further down the church, and the other seated himself in the one vacant place by Laura's side. Aunt Bessie had spied through her eyeglass the dreadful knickerbockers and grey stockings-also the exceeding pink of Laura's cheeks, as she bent to find the place in her Prayer Book. She regarded with a slight expression of horror, the Scotch cap, and silver-knobbed walking stick, which the young man carefully put out of sight. Then the eyeglass was dropped, and aunt Bessie's gaze was again fixed on the large, richly stained east window.

"John Stubbs'" behaviour during the service was not at all what it should have been: he did not kneel, his manner was listless, he gave a stifled yawn every now and then, and stared about more than Laura considered it at all necessary for him to do. There were only three hymnbooks, but Miss Maxwell was evidently determined that her niece and that dreadful young man should not join at the third. She held half of her book to Laura, who was obliged to give hers to the stranger. After all, it was a very con

siderate move of aunt Bessie's. During the singing of the last verse, Laura saw him turn to the fly-leaf. There was her name in full-Laura Christine Maxwell,-written in her own firm, clear hand. Another of those queer smiles flitted over his face, as he closed the book and laid it down. When the text was given out he found it in his own church service, and handed it to her.

If a hundred aunt Bessies had been present, each with an eyeglass, they would not have prevented Laura from endeavouring to find out the stranger's name. Quietly and eagerly she looked for and found it-Hastings St. Erle. The gift of his loving mother, December 31st, 1865. But Miss Maxwell had not seen. Once she turned an awful look towards the unconscious offender, as she caught his dark eyes lingering admiringly on a soft coil of Laura's hair, which a brilliant burst of sunshine had lighted up. But this little name-hunting had passed unobserved, and when service was ended, the young man took his Scotch cap and departed, without even a glance at Laura.

"I am beginning to think the gentlemen's dress of the present day, almost as bad as that of the ladies," remarked Miss Maxwell as they drove back to Glen View; "that young man, Laura, in whom you appeared to take such an interest, only wanted a gun, and powder flask, to complete his costume."

Laura laughed, and called to mind the magnificent style of apparel worn in aunt Bessie's young days.

So his name was not "John Stubbs" after all, and Laura's curiosity was excited more than ever. As she hoped, he was at church again in the evening, and again he seated himself at her side. [Colonel Maxwell had gone near the pulpit, and fortunately aunt Bessie had remained at home, or her suspicions would have been seriously aroused.]

He joined at Laura's hymn book, and found the text for her as before. She was not displeased, for his manner was gentle and respectful. She wondered much who he could be, and what possessed him to live in that tiny cottage, wear fustian, and behave so strangely.

Laura heard little of the worthy rector's sermon that evening. Those eyes which had fascinated her the first time she ever saw them, had the same influence still, and yet she almost feared to meet them.

"Who is that young fellow, Laura?" asked Colonel Maxwell looking amused, and drawing her arm through his as they left the church; "you seem to take an interest in one another."

"I don't know who he is, papa-I should very much like to know," said Laura candidly.

"I daresay you would: he's a canny-looking fellow, and reminds me strangely of an old friend of mine, who died when I was in the Crimea."

"Was it Lord St. Erle, papa ?"

"Yes lassie,—many a bit of fun we have had together at Cambridge; and many a bit of danger we shared too— he and I were in the same regiment."

66

66

Had he a son?"

Two, I think, but I never knew much of his family. The eldest son has gone to the dogs-not worthy to be the son of such a father. I never could get hold of either of them, for they have been abroad the best part of their lives I believe, and there was a crotchetty uncle who did not like my interference, so the acquaintance gradually dropped. Lady St. Erle has been dead some years now, and so has the uncle. As for this unfortunate fellow-out of his mind was the last thing I heard of him."

"Of course it must be another St. Erle," thought

Laura. "Is insanity hereditary in Lord St. Erle's family, papa?" she asked.

-a

"Oh, no, child. The lad was a sad scapegracecomely lad, but a sad scapegrace. He ruined himself with drinking and dissipation, and this is the end."

"Poor fellow!" said Laura absently, and they walked on in silence, the Colonel lost in recollections of past days. Laura-rather late in the day-forced herself to dismiss the stranger from her mind. She was grieved on retrospect to find that he had monopolised so many of her Sunday thoughts.

121

CHAPTER XIV.

Love wakes men once a lifetime each.

COVENTRY PATMORE.

THE longed-for Monday came.

Propitious weather!" exclaimed Laura aloud, as she shut herself up in her room after luncheon, to prepare for a long walk with aunt Bessie. "Now for my fun!"

Two big, black clouds went rolling away over the woods, and there rested, sullen and immovable. A great mist came curling up from the east, and wreathed itself over the hill tops. Laura put on the prettiest dress she could find, and descended to the hall, where aunt Bessie awaited her.

"It looks rather dull, my dear," she remarked, glancing through the open door towards the hills.

"Oh, it won't rain," said Colonel Maxwell appearing: "I'm going out for a long ride-it's only heat."

Laura hoped that as usual, her father's prophecies concerning the weather might prove quite incorrect, but Miss Maxwell had firm faith in her brother's judgment, and went forth with an easy mind. Laura tucked the “Idylls,” carefully under her arm, and gave aunt Bessie her little black silk book-bag, containing two or three excellent and well-approved volumes.

66

Would you like to see the rock and waterfall, auntie ?" she began.

66

Yes my dear, if it is not too far," replied Miss Max