what is troubling you. But consider. God has spared you to us these six times, why should He not spare you again? This scandalous conduct of Rupert's has upset you, and made you nervous. Don't think of him, sweetheart, don't think of him. He isn't

worthy of a thought of your pure mind."

"It isn't about him that I'm fretting now, and it isn't fretting over him that has made me afraid. I was so before I knew about him. It's-it's myself I'm afraid of." She dropped her head upon his breast and sobbed.

"Oh,

Eustace, I'm so afraid! If God"-she was weeping "if God should take me from you all!"

My dear, my dear!" he protested, troubled. "I have feared it lately. I am so weak. I don't feel as though I could gather strength for the time when I shall need it. I have no strength. I'm as weak as a kitten." She held up a little wasted, trembling hand. stamina. My blood seems like water." "You mustn't talk like this, Muriel. like my brave little woman. See grieves me."

"I have no

It isn't

how it

His face was both troubled and perplexed,

VOL. III.

7

She had never been like this before, and he hardly knew what to say to her. Unconsciously, however, he had struck the right chord by his reference to his distress. She gave a long look at his troubled countenance. Then slowly the fear and the distress died from her sweet face.

"I have troubled you, dear," she said, quietly. "How selfish I am! But I didn't mean to." She dried her eyes, and smiled brightly. She wound her weak arms about his neck. "What a foolish little woman I am! What a wretched, miserable little wife for you to be burdened with! But look! I'm not foolish now. I'm not afraid. I know I shall get well. I am sure-sure!" smiling, with every trace of distress gone.

Love, in natures like hers, is all-powerful, and can work miracles. Love bade her repair the mischief her lapse from her customary role of self-forgetfulness had wrought, and her spirit responded instantly to his behest. She wanted to be bright and happy in order to dissipate the shadow on her husband's brow; and she succeeded, for the time, in being so. And she had her reward-the pleasure of seeing the

Dean's countenance once more

untroubled.

serene and

This was sufficient pleasure for her to cause her to forget awhile her own fears, and she was genuinely bright and happy when, half an hour later, leaning on his arm, she went downstairs.

CHAPTER VII.

Marian

THE Dean shortly after his interview with Mrs. Casey had written to Gilbert, but no reply had come from the young officer. while in London had seen him, but had been unable to glean any information concerning the Hardmans. Thrice the Dean wrote, but still Gilbert failed to respond.

November drawing to a close, the Dean determined to go to Aldershot. He went, had a brief but unpleasant interview with his son, and returned, considerably annoyed. It required all Lady Muriel's tact and sweetness to dispel his vexation; but she was well-fitted for the task of pouring oil on troubled waters, and managed to accomplish it in this case. The Dean recovered a measure of his customary calm, but a few weeks later was again disturbed by the arrival of Gilbert at the Deanery, with the curt announcement that he was no longer an officer of Her Majesty's army.

He came unannounced the last Thursday in November, driving up to the Deanery in one of the four hansoms that Harminster boasted, as Lady Muriel, the Dean, and Marian were sitting down to lunch. He looked ill and generally out of sorts, and conversation with him revealed him irritable and melancholy. He gave no explanation of his strange conduct, except that army life was not to his taste; with this exception maintaining an obstinate silence on the subject, though he indulged in wild talk of future avocations, the Australian squatter and the Cape Mounted Police figuring among them.

The Dean's annoyance and disgust with his unsatisfactory son were deep, but were prevented by Lady Muriel's influence from broadening into any serious display of anger—a display which would surely have done no good, but might have driven Gilbert to more reckless courses. He was in the humour to be so driven to take a savage pleasure in annoying his father and disgracing himself—and it was fortunate that Lady Muriel's influence at this crisis was such as it was.

With her at his side the Dean's anger was