they are no higher than theirs, are a sham. Their love of physical beauty was human: whilst they had not the incarnation, they were right in seeking for the highest perfection they could realize. Ours, being a wilful rejection of a higher beauty, would be merely bestial. It is not possible for us to grow back into an age that is past; if we will return to childishness, it will not be to the healthy childhood of a vigorously growing life, but to the morbid dotage of decay.

Vain thought which shall not be at all,
Refuse ye or obey,

Ye who have heard the Almighty's call
Ye cannot be as they.

From Temple Bar.

HER DEAREST FOE.

CHAPTER XXI.

(continued.)

ON Saturday morning, after due consultation with Fanny, Mrs. Temple wrote a little note to Sir Hugh, presenting her compliments, and begging to say they expected their agent from London that evening, and would be engaged on business, but if Sir Hugh Galbraith wished any let ters written, Mrs. Temple or Miss Lee would be happy to do so between two and five.

"There," said Mrs. Temple, as she wrote these lines rapidly in pencil, "that ought to keep him out of the way." Yes, it ought, and will. Poor fellow ! how moped he must be all Sunday, and, indeed, every day, by himself."

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"Well, he need not stay if he does not like. I am sure he is quite strong enough to travel. He was out driving for three hours yesterday."

"Oh, it is the quiet Dr. Slade recommends. Oh, Kate! how I wish he would lend us his dog-cart to take a drive with Tom to-morrow! I am sure he would if I asked him - may I?—it really ought to be yours, you know."

"Oh, Fanny! you do not know what you are talking about, you are so delighted at the idea of Tom being here this evening."

"Of course I shall be glad to see him, but if you think I am out of my mind with joy you are quite mistaken.' I feel as calm and collected as possible."

Which calmness was manifested by the most erratic conduct throughout the day - total forgetfulness on various matters,

and frequent rushings to and fro between the shop and the kitchen, just to see that Mills did not forget this or that ingredient in her preparation of one or two niceties devised by Fanny herself, who had a delicate taste for the finer branches of cooking.

Saturday being market-day, the morning was always a busy time at the Berlin Bazaar; but the rush of customers was generally over about three, as most of the Saturday visitors had a long way to go home; and on Fanny's return from one of her excursions, she found only two old ladies of the better class of farmers, one requiring a pair of gloves for her daughter, the other some worsted yarn, wherewith to knit her husband's stockingssimple needs, which yet took an unconscionable time to satisfy.

At last they were gone. "I feel quite tired," said Mrs. Temple, sitting down. "I wish, Fanny, you would go up and write for Sir Hugh Galbraith. He sent word that he was sorry to trouble me, but if I could write a few lines for him before five o'clock he would be greatly obliged; you had better go, dear, for you are no particular use here."

"And I am sure I should make a fearful confusion of Sir Hugh's letter! Indeed I cannot go, Kate! I feel quite dazed to-day."

"Oh, I thought you were peculiarly cool and collected! No matter! mistakes in Sir Hugh's letters are not so fatal as mistakes in our business. If you will not go he must do without a secretary."

"Well," cried Fanny, with sudden resolution, "I will write for him this once. Do you know I am half sorry to be obliged to hate Sir Hugh Galbraith; but don't be afraid! I never allow myself to think well of him for a moment! I have not a doubt he is a deep designing villain, but he doesn't look like it; though there is something intolerably haughty in the sort of snuff the moon' air with which he looks over one's head."

"Don't talk such nonsense, Fanny, dear! I wish Sir Hugh would go; he is growing troublesome."

"Not to me," returned Fanny, gravely shaking her head; "he takes no more notice of me than if I was a kitten when

you are by. I will see how we get on without you to-day."

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Pray be prudent and steady," cried Kate, laughing, "though I am sure Sir Hugh is a pattern of propriety."

Fanny ran away up-stairs, dashed hastily into her own room, pinned a blue bow

forgot - Dr. Slade left word that he could not call this evening, because Lady Styles has returned, and he is going to dine with her."

"Lady Styles! repeated Galbraith. "Does she not live at a place called Weston? I believe she is an aunt, or cousin, or grandmother of Upton's."

"Of this gentleman's," said Fanny, holding up the letter. "Then I am sure you will not be at a loss for society any longer: she will come and see you every day and tell you everything, and make you tell everything. She is fond of K- Mrs. Temple," remembering the strict injunctions she had received not to breathe the name of Kate; "but she nearly drives her mad with questions."

"But what would induce her to trouble herself about me?"

"She was here the evening you were brought in like a dead creature what a fright we had! —and you may be sure she has written to this Mr. Upton to know all about you."

"This will be a visitation! I am glad you have given me a hint," returned Galbraith. "And you must go? you couldn't leave Mrs. Temple and her agent to talk business, and make my tea?"

"Indeed, I could not," said Fanny indignantly.

"Well, good morning, Miss Lee," rejoined Galbraith, laughing; "remember, I will not venture down-stairs again unless I am asked."

"And then Mrs. Temple will know I have been committing some stupidity," cried Fanny, forgetting her dignity. Do come down to tea on Monday, Sir Hugh!" "What! even if Tom' is there? "Ah! there is no chance of that," said Fanny, shaking her head.

"If I have any letters to answer I will venture down, then, to ask for assistance," replied Galbraith, smiling, and opening the door for her to pass out. As he did so the sound of a man's voice, and some slight commotion rose up from below; while Fanny started, blushed, and brightened all over, like some rippling stream when the sun suddenly shines out from behind a cloud; and, with a hasty "goodmorning," went quickly away.

"I suspect Tom' is in clover when he comes down here," thought Galbraith, closing the door and resuming his armchair and a tough article in the Quarterly. He can't make love to both of them, and that nice little thing takes no common interest in his coming. Who the deuce can he be? What can they all be !

They are more than tradespeople. I wish I could get at their history. Miss Fanny let out they were not real shopkeepers. Pooh! what is it to me? I have no business to pry into Mrs. Temple's affairs ; she would pull me up very short if I tried. I will go away next week if I feel strong. The doctor says I must take care of my head, and I shall never be so quiet anywhere as here. I wish that old woman may break her leg, or her neck, or anything to prevent her coming here to destroy one's comfort," for Galbraith felt it would never do to have his fair landlady's letter-writing and general intercourse with a man of his position known: over and over again he revolved the subject in his mind. The Quarterly was thrown to the other end of the room. He could not bear the idea of leaving; and yet go he ought, he must. At last he started up, put on his hat, and walked away to the stables he had taken, to have a chat about the "bonnie beasts" with his servant, a Yorkshireman, and get rid of himself. He had not yet given up his invalid habits of early dinner and a "something" mild and strengthening before he went to bed. Both in going out and returning he heard the sound of merry voices and laughter, pleasant, refined laughter, as he passed the door of the best sitting-room; evidently "Tom" was an acquisition; it was no wonder they did not want him, Hugh Galbraith!

His servant noticed that he was more than usually silent, and very severe about some trifling neglect in the stable.

Even Mills did not get a civil look when she brought him some admirable scolloped oysters; but at last the uncomfortable evening was over, Galbraith's last waking thought being interrogative, "Who the deuce is Tom?"

CHAPTER XXII.

THE three friends, oblivious of the moody, bored baronet up-stairs, talked far into the night. Tom Reed had to give an accurate and detailed account of his play, or rather after-piece; — they had just begun to be called "curtain-lifters " by people who had been to French theatres, and custom was veering round to the habit of having, by some Hibernian process, the after-piece first.

Both Mrs. Temple and Fanny were burning to see the production of Tom's pen; they had, of course, greedily read all the notices and criticisms which had come in their way, still that was but judg

ing at second hand, and to see it was the grand desideratum.

"We could in any case only go to town by detachments," said Mrs. Temple; "we could not both be away together, and though I could go up alone very well, it would hardly do for Fanny, unless you have some friend who would take her in,

Tom."

"We must manage it somehow!" cried Tom. "It will run a tolerably long time, at any rate, and I will settle some plan. Of course," turning to Kate, "you will have to come up soon to lay in your spring goods - isn't that the term?-and then you can easily pay the Lesbian' a visit. I really should like to know your opinion; you are a tolerable critic."

"There!" exclaimed Fanny, with affected indignation; "you don't care a straw what I think! But I can assure you my judgment would be much more original, because I don't stuff my head with other people's notions out of books, like Kate."

"Bravo!" said Tom; "your own opinion pure and simple. To tell you the truth, my darling, I am half afraid of those keen little eyes of yours: they spy out one's failings so unrelentingly!"

"Little eyes, indeed! Mr. Joseph Turner thinks them big enough."

"No doubt he does," said Mrs. Temple, laughing. "But I imagine Fanny has choked him off, for we have seen little or nothing of him for some time; not since Fan supped at the paternal residence." "I am surprised to hear it," returned Tom gravely. "She is such an arrant flirt, that, in the absence of higher game, she would not mind keeping her hand or eyes in by practising on the nearest haberdasher."

"Another word of that description," exclaimed Fanny, " and I will try my hand, as you say, on Sir Hugh Galbraith! He is sulking up-stairs, poor fellow, all alone! and wanted me to stay and make his tea for him. It's not too late to give him his supper."

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You know," said Tom Reed, with a slight change of tone, "I warned you to steer clear of Galbraith when I was down here last. He only knows you as the assistant in a shop, and he will very likely presume upon your supposed inferiority of position. If he had met you at - say at Mrs. Travers's table formerly, would he have ventured to ask you to make his tea? Confound his impudence!"

Fanny clapped her hands with delight at this ebullition, and laughed aloud.

"Do not be ridiculous, dear Tom," cried Mrs. Temple; "do you think either Fanny or I would go near Sir Hugh if he was inclined to give himself such airs? I assure you no one could behave in a more unobtrusive, unobjectionable manner than he does. The only trouble he gives is caused by his perpetual desire to write abrupt, and it seems to me objectless letters he certainly has not a talent for composition -- and his scarcely-concealed curiosity to know who we really are. openly professes his disbelief in our seeming; but I hope and think he will go away next week. There is really nothing to keep him."

He

"And still he stays! That is odd," remarked Tom, looking at his mischievous fiancée.

"It is not me!" cried Fanny, too earnest to be correct; "so don't think it." "Do you know it is getting very late?" said the fair hostess.

"Eleven, by Jupiter!" exclaimed Tom, looking at his watch. "Mrs. Temple," he continued, "is your resolution to go to church to-morrow as fixed as fate?" "Why?"

"Because I want a long tête-à-tête consultation with you about my own affairs. Suppose Fanny represents the firm at morning service, and then she shall direct my steps in the evening to some pleasant glade, where we can discuss the result of the cabinet council? "

"Very well; that will suit me exactly," returned Mrs. Temple. "I too want a tête-à-tête consultation with you; so Fanny shall be devotional for us all."

"That is very fine," said Fanny, who had blushed becomingly when Tom spoke of consulting Mrs. Temple about his own affairs. "I am to be banished whether I like it or not."

Good-nights were exchanged, and Tom persuaded his pretty cousin to see that the front door was safely fastened after his exit.

The succeeding Sunday was the first real spring day which had visited Pierstoffe that year. The sky was brightly blue, and the sea, stirred by light airs, soft and balmy as though it were June instead of April, "broke into dimples and laughed in the sun." The tide, which had been full at an early hour, was ebbing gently — Pierstoffe bay was too open to be afflicted by a long reach of bare black seaweed and sludgy sand when the water was low, and the difference of ebb and flow was not great: a soft feathery fringe of wavelets lapped the beach as if they loved it. On