the day's heat had affected her usually cool brain. "It is impossible, Emma. Steal my pencil!Mr. Henry! My dear, you don't know what you are saying." Emma wished so too; wished, rather, there had been nothing to hear. "His staying on a little while will not make matters worse, papa," she resumed; he might stay until the end of the term. We have missed nothing since. And Papa, I am very sorry to say it. You must if I had not happened to go into that shop for a judge for yourself; but I don't see how it can watch-key, we should be in just as much ignorhave been otherwise. You have not been listen-ance as we were before." * 44 ing to me." "If!" said the doctor, "if! if! life is half made Begin again. Surprise took my listening up of it. I'll take a night's rest upon this unfaculties away." pleasantness, Emma; meanwhile keep strict counsel." She untied her bonnet, pushed it off her head, and began again; telling him of Trace's back suspicions and their foundation; of her recent discovery of the pencil, and what passed. "Is there any room to doubt, papa?" "Stay a moment, Emma; why did you not inform me of this doubt of Mr. Henry at the time?" "I shall keep that always, poor young man. I can't help being sorry for him; he is so hardworking and so friendless; and, papa, with it all, he is a gentleman. But what about the pencil ?" "Time enough to think of that,” said the doctor. "It wont run away." It was all utterly incomprehensible to Dr. Brabazon. As he said, he could have trusted Mr. Henry; not only with untold gold, but with things far more precious. He thought that some great emergency, some urgent need of money 'Forgive me, papa; I know how you dislike must have tempted him; it had tempted others the name to be mentioned-Tom." Dr. Brabazon frowned. "How could you possibly have suspected him when he was not near the place? That comes of letting your thoughts run upon him always. You should have told me this about Mr. Henry." She sat with her finger on her cheek, looking out apparently at the boys in the play-ground, and asking herself whether to tell the whole now-that Tom was near the place the evening of the loss. But to what end? To hear of his being near only destroyed her father's rest; and the suspicion was now quite removed from him. "He must have intended to redeem it within a week, as he said, papa; or he would never have disclosed the fact of his being one of the masters here; hoping, I suppose, to replace it before it was missed! I wonder why he did not do it?" before him, as the world's history tells. It struck the doctor that in this must lie the secret of Mr. Henry's demeanor; there was always a sort of shrinking reticence observable to him, not to others. 'As if I declare, as if he were conscious of some acted wrong towards me!" cried the doctor aloud, the new thought striking him. Whatever his degree of guilt, Dr. Brabazon felt certain it was bitterly repented of. To part with him before the Oxford examination, thereby suddenly cutting short the thread of the French and German instruction, was not to be thought of, and the Head Master buried the unwelcome knowledge within his breast, and suffered things to go on as usual. It was drawing so near now, that all other interests gave place to it. There was a good deal of rivalry amidst the boys going up for it; there was some jealousy, a little disputing. The Emma, I could have trusted that young man remoter competition for the Orville prize was with untold gold." "What shall you do about it?" "I don't know what to do," said the doctor, rousing himself from a pause of perplexed thought. "Look you, child; he must stay here until the Oxford examination. To discharge him now might peril the passing of the boys." "I see. Of course it might. And he is so excellent a master!" "I wish; I wish I had not heard this." lost sight of now. It was at the option of the Head Master to send the boys up for this Oxford examination or to retain them, according as, in his judgment, they were sufficiently prepared or the contrary. The elder ones, those whose age would preclude trial another year, were to go, that was certain, and take their chance; but in regard to the rest it lay with Dr. Brabazon. Only, if they did not go up for the Oxford; or, going up, did not pass; they could not compete for the Orville. And of the candidates perhaps there was not one, Gall excepted, who did not secretly pray that Paradyne might not be allowed to go up. Altogether there was as much excitement and commotion, just now in the College over the coming Oxford examination, as there is in a bribery borough on the eve of a general election. Mr. Loftus sat in his bedroom at Pond Place, fingering his cherished pistols. It was the day subsequent to his encounter with Gall, and he was spending it at Sir Simon's. Loftus had not been himself since the mishap; he was not one to cherish revenge in a general way, but he did in this instance firmly resolve that Gall should suffer. On all occasions of his visits to his uncle's these pistols were got out, their state ascertained, their shape and points admired. It was Sunday afternoon, but Loftus was rubbing them with wash leather; he and Leek, who stood by, talking in a desultory manner. “Loftus, I would not care to possess pistols if I had to keep them locked up out of sight," cried Leek, rather inopportunely. "Ah," said Loftus, "wait until I am my own master. I wish I might use them," he added, significantly. "I could put a little bullet into somebody with all the pleasure in life—that is, if he were not too great a coward to meet me; but snobs are always cowards. Give me that oil, Onions." "You mean Gall," said Onions, handing the vial, and taking out the cork by way of facilitating operations; upon which a strong smell of bergamotte was diffused through the room. Onions gave a sniff. "I say, Loftus, this is hair oil!" "It will do; I've got no other. Yes, snobs are safe to be cowards; it's in their blood, and they can't help it," observed he, dropping a modicum of oil on the bright steel and delicately rubbing it. I'd lay you all I'm worth; I'd lay you these pistols, Onions, that if I called out Gall, he'd laugh in my face." "It was a great mistake to allow duelling to go out," he observed, in his lordly manner. "There's no way left now for gentlemen to resent an insult. You can't fight a fellow with your fists, as if you were a prize-fighter; you can't bring an action against him, and let things be blabbed out to the world." "You can kick him down stairs," said Onions. Mr. Loftus scorned a refutation. "Just lay hold of this end, will you, while I rub. Mark my words, Onions, before fifty years have gone over our heads, duelling will be in again." "I say is this Sir Simon coming up?" Loftus listened for a moment, and then bundled pistols and leather and oil into the drawer. Sir Simon was passing to his own room, and there was no certainty that he would not look into this. So for the time the polishing and the discussion were alike cut short. But on the following morning, Onions, whose tongue was as open as his own nature, got talking to the school. And the matter reached the ears of Gall. 'Says he would like to meet me in a duel!says he is a better shot than I! Is he? If I chose to take him at his word and meet him, he'd see who was the best shot." "And so I am a better shot," affirmed Loftus, coming forward to face Gall. "What should you know about shooting? It is an art that belongs to gentlemen." In point of fact, neither of the two could shoot at all. Gall lifted his finger. "Look here, Loftus. This is not a time to be taken up with petty interests: I can't afford it, if you can; neither shall the school. We'll settle matters, you and I, when the Oxford's over." "Agreed. Mind you don't flinch from it," was the scornful conclusion. Gall spoke rather without his host, in saying that the school should not waste its time in disputes. At that very moment, the school was divided into groups, some taking Gall's part, some Bosh, Loftus! Folks don't fight duels now," taking Loftus', some differing on their own score. was the slighting remark of Onions. "Not on this side the channel. No; and that's what the fellow would shelter himself under, a custom obsolete. Gall has insulted me, and if I live I'll make him suffer for it. I should like to put a bullet into him," continued Loftus, grandly. "It was too bad," said sympathizing Onions. "I should pitch into him, Loftus." Mr. Loftus threw up his head. Pitching in" was not in his line, or anything so vulgar. After morning study, the various dissensions seemed to have merged into one single outbreak, and that was between Loftus minor and Paradyne. Paradyne had been taunted well that morning, by Dick especially, and he turned at length upon the taunter. It was in the quaddrangle. "Because I have borne what hardly anybody else would, you think I can't retaliate; you think I am a coward! Try me, Dick Loftus." Dick-hot, impulsive, passionate Dick-dashed in and struck the first blow. That was his answer. Off went the jackets, the boys closed round in a ring; it was to be an impromptu, stand-up, hand-to-hand fight. And the very cries would have decided it, could cries decide. Every encouragement was heaped cheerily on Dick, every derisive insult that tongue can utter was levelled at Paradyne: never had the feeling of the school been more palpably displayed than now. Paradyne stood his ground bravely: cool, collected, retaining his temper and his self-possession, he proved a great deal more than a match for Dick, who had very shortly to acknowledge himself beaten. Paradyne had not a scratch upon his face; parrying all blows successfully, to this he chiefly confined himself, and instead of punishing Dick, had been content to show that he could have punished if he would. ་་ And now," said he, as he put on his jacket, as you see that I can fight, perhaps you'll let me alone for the future. I shan't take things so patiently as I have done." He set off to run home to dinner; and a glow of admiration went out after him from all that were unprejudiced. The boy had half won their hearts with his gallant bearing. He appeared at his desk as usual in the afternoon. Dick Loftus was at his, a little sore about the arms. Suddenly, amidst that silence which follows the first settling down of a large number of students, a voice was heard. On the merit of these essays was supposed to he very much the decision of the Head Master whether their author should or should not go up for the Oxford. The school denied all knowledge of the affair. The first desk, collectively and individually, protested they had had no hand in it, and a whisper arose that Paradyne had done it himself to hide the poorness of his Latin. There was no time to attempt another. "He can't go up for the Oxford now," were the first words that greeted Paradyne's ears when the hall rose; and they came from Dick Loftus. "Did you do it?" cried Paradyne, turning sharply upon him. "No, I did not," answered Dick: his red face and his honest eyes raised fearlessly to Paradyne's. You beat me this morning in a fair, stand-up fight; but I'd scorn to do a mean trick of this sort." "I believe you," said Paradyne, “and I beg your pardon for asking." "And I am sorry that you should lose your chance for the Oxford," added Dick, not to be outdone in generosity. "I have never said either, as some of them do, that you ought not to go up for the Orville: it's as fair for you to compete as for the rest, for what I see." But all chance for Paradyne, either for the one or the other was over in the opinion of the school. Some of the better-natured felt sorry for him, and said it. Paradyne bore himself bravely before them; not a cloud on his brow, not a shadow on his lips proclaimed aloud the bitterness of his defeat. But, later, when he was sitting at Mr. Henry's, he astonished that gentleman not a little by bursting into tears. “I had taken such pride in that essay! I had looked forward to this examination with so much certainty of success. And now to have it all destroyed in a moment!" Hush, George! You may go up yet." 'No, I shall not; I can see that Brabazon thinks I did it myself. I might just as well never have worked on for the examination; I'd better not have come to Orville. It's awful treachery!" he burst forth presently, his tone changing as anger superseded the sobs. "I know this has been done by some of them. Oh, what a life it is to lead! And there's another thing-the mother has been counting on my success.' "There were rare times and seasons when Mr. Henry was so utterly dispirited himself, for him. "My son, if thou come to serve the Lord, prepare thy soul for temptation. Set thy heart aright and constantly endure, and make not haste in time of trouble." that it seemed like a mockery to attempt to im--ay, that seemed to have been written expressly part consolation or preach of patience to another. This was one. The trouble lay heavier on him than it did on the boy. As he sat alone, after George's departure, and took up the Book, more, it must be confessed, from custom that night than from any comfort he thought to find-for, in truth, he felt entirely beaten down, worn, sick, weary-it opened of itself at a part that seemed And by the time he had read on to the end of the chapter, which is the Second of Ecclesiasticus, peace and trust had come back to him. ONE OF LIFE'S MISTAKES. BY CLARA AUGUSTA. I take the truth home to my heart, and stand Self-blinded I have been-no cruel blame She charmed me like some painting rare and old, I tried to stifle what I felt, and said I'd starve my love until its springs were dead- I took her hand in mine one summer day, Oh, had she told me she had loved before! I smoothed her dainty fingers white as snow, She smiles upon me now, and keeps away He came upon us, handsome, frank, and free- I saw them when they met. She grew so white She turned from him with fine, exquisite scorn, He flirts and coquets with the gay young girls, Of his starved soul flames up with power intense. They both are noble; both remember me, Their story is a simple one to tell- She thought him false; her purse-proud friends helped on The sad delusion. Gold his love had won- |