Many a like conversation did Edmund have with Mr. Ansley, gleaning much information from the latter's short pithy sentences, where practical knowledge of his subject was mingled with fun and occasional satire. He had a strong love for natural history, and at first it almost provoked Edmund to have him break off an interesting argument to exclaim, "Look at that squirrel," or "Hark, is not that a bullfinch's note?" But by-and-by he grew to understand him better, and to wonder how at his age he could retain so much of the freshness and capacity for enjoyment of youth.

It seems to me positively wrong," said Mr. Ansley, in his forcible manner one day, "not to accept the pleasures that come in our way. It is like ingratitude to GOD when He offers us all good things richly to enjoy,'" he added in a lower voice; "it is only a form of pride and self-will which would choose what it shall receive at His hands."

Edmund thoroughly enjoyed the intercourse. It was a trial to his unselfishness sometimes not to keep Mr. Ansley pacing up and down the walk talking in the dusk, those fine spring evenings after the lamp was lighted in the drawing-room. But he knew the presence of "father" would be missed from the round games the children played then, and he would not interfere with their enjoyment. Very few days of Edmund's stay at Needthorpe still remained to him, but he was going back to his work with fresh heart and courage. A few words of Eleanor's had inspired him somewhat. He was remarking on the enjoyment of rest and quiet.

'Yes," she replied, "but one would not care to meet with nothing but pleasantness in life."

"No!" he said in some surprise, "and why not?"

Nelly did not answer.

"Tell me your meaning, Miss Ansley. I am curious to know. Is it to develope our powers of endurance ?”

No, I was not thinking of that.”

"Will you not tell me your reason then ?"

Nelly blushed as she replied, "I was thinking of a passage I met with the other day, to the effect that brave soldiers fighting for their king all their lives long, would almost grieve had they no wounds to show."

"I understand," said Edmund, speaking slowly, as though he were still pondering out her meaning. "We shall one day glory in our

scars, as showing we have suffered somewhat for our King; nay, we ought to glory in them now, as expressing our partnership with Him Who endured all, as signs we are treading what Thomas à Kempis calls the Royal Road of the Cross.'"

Eleanor looked rather surprised at his earnest tone, and was about to say something further, when interrupted by one of her brothers rushing up with,

"I say, Nelly, sew this button on my wristband, and mind it doesn't come off this time, with any of your beastly rotten thread, which you pride yourself on getting so cheap."

Edmund felt as if he should have liked to have taken Fred by the shoulders and shaken him, but Nelly, quite accustomed to her brother's ways, at once did as she was asked. Edmund wondered afterwards why he had been so unaccountably annoyed; he partly attributed it to being interrupted in what he hoped might prove an interesting conversation; partly to his natural sense of courtesy as a gentleman, but this would not apply to a few evenings before, when he had felt enraged at Harry's chaffing her in perfect good humour. And then he began to consider why he should so dislike seeing her engrossed by every one, the younger children, or even her father and mother; why he so enjoyed talking to her; why, wherever they went, he was anxious she should form one of the party, and above all, why he felt a blank whenever she was not in the room? The answer to all this suddenly flashed across him, startling him very much. He had long known he admired Eleanor, looking on her as a very charming girl. Lastly, he had felt drawn towards her by discovering a great resemblance to her brother, his dearest friend, but he had never before realised how deeply he had fallen in love with her. He felt no doubt of it now, however, and considered himself in honour bound to speak to Mr. Ansley at once. The latter listened with unfeigned astonishment, not unmingled with pleasure, at his daughter being so appreciated by a man whose worth and talents he could esteem as he did Edmund Lindsaye's. He rather feared Colonel Lindsaye's disapproval. Edmund satisfied him on this point, saying his father was not likely to oppose him in a matter of this kind, "but," he added, "I should be doing wrong to marry at present, for I could not afford to keep a wife out of my present allowance; if I had got into practice, and a settled home it would be different."

"You are right," replied Mr. Ansley, "and therefore I think you

had better not speak to Nelly yet. I have no wish to discourage you," he added, seeing the blank look of Edmund's face. But my little girl is very young yet, and has I am sure no idea of this. I wish to keep her in ignorance of it, thus to save her from the strain and suspense of a long engagement. It is not that I should not gladly welcome you as a son," he added, kindly laying his hand on Edmund's shoulder.

"No, I see that I had better not speak now," said Edmund, reluctantly, "but if I should find the means of marrying, then—”

"Then you may come and try your fate at once; but remember, I hold you in no way bound; if you should alter your mind I shall not blame you. I shall look on what has passed between us as a secret."

"No likelihood of my changing," said Edmund, decidedly, and as Mr. Ansley looked at him, he felt he had spoken the truth. One last warning he thought himself bound to give.

"You will understand I shall only be able to give Nelly a very small dowry, a mere nothing in fact.”

"I believe I shall have quite sufficient means myself," was the reply. 'My father even now gives me a very handsome allowance, and I am his only son."

"Well, then, I hope he may not be displeased with your choice." Then as Edmund was about to make a vehement protest, "Yes, I do not need you to tell me my child is pretty and loveable, and I trust a thorough gentlewoman; but remember, a poor clergyman's daughter may not be quite the wife your father would wish for you."

Two days after this Edmund returned to town, leaving the Ansleys with a far more pleasant impression of him than on his former visit. It was hard to go away without saying one word to Nelly, but he complied faithfully with Mr. Ansley's wish, and gave neither look nor sign which could betray his real feelings to her. But how her face was always rising up before him, how he longed to see her and hear her speak, and how intolerably dreary London seemed to him at times. Yet he still kept on bravely, throwing himself heart and soul into his work all through the bright spring and sultry summer, until summer changed into autumn, and autumn into winter, and the spring was there again.

CHAPTER IX.

It was one fine October morning rather more than eighteen months after Edmund's visit to Needthorpe that he was sitting in his chambers looking over some notes taken from a work he had lately perused. Although tables and chairs were strewn with books from which he was collecting references for a pamphlet he was writing, his room looked tolerably cheery, a bright fire was burning in the grate. Suddenly he was aroused from his studies by the announcement of Colonel Lindsaye. Edmund was somewhat astonished, inasmuch as he was not in the habit of receiving unexpected visits from his father, and had not even known him to be in town at the time. He was however enlightened as to the cause after the first few words of greeting and inquiry had passed, by Colonel Lindsaye asking, “Did you see in the paper the death of your godfather, old Mr. Oliver ?"

“Yes,” said Edmund, “was he not a distant connection of ours ?" "A second cousin of your mother's. Well, his nephew Jarvis stayed the night with us on his way back from the funeral, and he told me that when the will was read it was found that Oliver had left you a legacy of £3,000 to mark his esteem for your abilities.''

Edmund stared. “Why, sir, I have never seen him since I was a boy!"

"No, but it seems that he has always kept his eye upon you; he knew when you took your degree at Oxford, and was very much pleased at hearing from some friends that you were thought likely to get on in your profession. He was somewhat eccentric, as those wealthy old bachelors often are you know. I expect you will receive official notice of this in a day or two; but I thought I should like to be the first to bring the news, and to tell you the reason for your piece of good forWell, I hope in a few months' time you will be in full practice, and then with this legacy you will be quite a rich man, able to set up an establishment of your own if you wish.”

He added these last words half in joke, but his surprise was great when Edmund calmly replied, "To tell you the truth, I have been anxious to settle for some time, only I saw no prospect of being able to do so before I was in practice, nor even then unless my practice was good. For more than a year I have been deeply attached to Miss Ansley, and I have her father's consent to try and win her, as soon

as I have the means of keeping a home to bring her to, which I hope may now be the case."

Colonel Lindsaye's first feeling was certainly overwhelming astonishment, he seemed never to have contemplated the idea of Edmund's falling in love; but he was not altogether displeased. It was true he might not think Miss Ansley would be a bride altogether worthy of his clever son; but he had in some way lately imbibed the idea that Edmund was in danger of growing ascetic and of taking up peculiar notions, and he imagined that marriage would be the best cure for that kind of thing.

So he entered into the matter with all due interest, and having cross-questioned Edmund pretty closely as to the Ansley family, and his future plans, he at last said good-bye, and went away, leaving Edmund almost overwhelmed with the suddenness of the good fortune that had come upon him. It was quite true that he was on the eve of completing his terms; but he had resolutely determined that he must be well assured, as to his being in full and regular practice before he could venture to think of speaking to Nelly. But now that all obstacles were removed he felt as if he could wait no longer before putting his fate to the touch. He had not been to Needthorpe since his visit eighteen months previously, for fearing the sight of Eleanor would unsettle him in his work he had firmly declined all invitations there. How much it had cost him to do so perhaps he only now realised, as he felt a desire to set off for Needthorpe at once; and an uncontrollable impatience with every hour that must intervene before he could do so. In effect having made a few necessary arrangements he took the night-train to York that same evening, and arrived at Bickley-pool station about ten o'clock the following morning.

The drive to Needthorpe seemed almost interminable; although the morning was fine, a thick white haze hung over the whole landscape, and obscured the familiar landmarks. At last the parsonage was reached, and Edmund received a hearty welcome from Mr. Ansley. A few words sufficed to explain the reason of Edmund's visit.

"I believe Nelly is at home," said Mr. Ansley, "all the rest of our party have gone chesnut-hunting in the Hendon woods; but I think you will find her in the schoolroom. You won't care for me to accompany you there," he added, laughing, "you know the way."

Yes! Edmund did know the way, and a few seconds found him in the schoolroom, where Eleanor was busy arranging in a soup-plate