there was no possibility of your being a burthen, and a care, and a drawback to the man whom you adored and loved?"

"My dear Lucy, there is good sense in what you say, and I have not the heart to oppose it. You are a very practical little woman; you always were much more so than I could have imagined; where do you get your worldly wisdom, love?"

"I don't know, dear; one of my lady tutors was the widow of an author, a learned doctor of Oxford-a great philosopher; and do I not see how many heartrending letters you receive from authors ?" "Yes, dear, they are not all as fortunate as I am."

"As clever, you should say, Jacob."

"No, dear, as fortunate; the public is a fickle patron, but once it takes to a writer, it is his own fault if he is not always a favourite.” "But how long it is before the public makes up its mind!" said Lucy. "Here is a poet who is charming, full of new thoughts, and as musical as Moore; yet you say his books do not sell, and he has not yet had a five-pound note from his publishers."

"The public will discover his merits when he is dead, poor fellow. He goes in for fame; I write for the present."

It was soon after some such conjugal gossip as this that the ill news of the bank came to Mortimer House. For a moment Jacob felt a weight lifted off his mind; but before the day was over he regretted the loss deeply. He did not want Lucy's money, and yet he was angry at the loss of it; while, on the contrary, Lucy received the news with the greatest equanimity.

"My dear Jacob, don't trouble about it; there is still a little left. Besides, dear, you never cared for it."

"I do now."

"Only for my sake-only because you think the loss of it grieves

me."

"No, dear, for my own. If we had given it away, or thrown it into the river, as you once suggested," said Jacob; “but to be done out of it in this way!"

"There, dear! See-look in my face-I believe I am happier now that it is gone. We shall love each other all the more, if that were possible. Think of those poor people who have no other resources, now that the bank has broken-widows and orphans perhaps !"

"You are an angel," said Jacob, kissing his wife.

"A poor one, bless her heart," said old Thornton, who had entered the room unperceived; a poor angel, my dear," said the old man, as Lucy flung her arms round his neck and kissed him.

"Richer even now than many of the people who ride in the Row,

and try to mask their empty purses and mortgaged estates in hollow smiles and badinage," said Lucy.

"Now, by my soul, it does me good to see you two in this spirit," exclaimed Uncle Thornton. "I have been in a furious rage for hours, and in despair, too-a miserable, broken-hearted dog! If it had been my own money that had gone-but Lucy's, my dead nephew's money, hoarded by my brother to do justice with at last! Good Lord! it makes me sick to think of it. Give me some sherry, Jacob Martyn."

Sherry was brought. The old man helped himself liberally. "Don't be downhearted, Uncle Thornton. We are well off. I am making a good income. A short time since I should have liked nothing better than this loss. That money has been the only little shadow between my wife and I. But I have become proud and ambitious lately. I had been thinking of buying an estate in the county of Dinsley; and I suppose I am being punished a little for my ingratitude. But it is all for the best. I shall set to work now in deeper earnest than heretofore."

"There! now that is all we are going to say about it. We shall take a pleasant house somewhere near Richmond, and live quietly. There no more to-night," said Lucy.

"But, Lucy, my child," began Uncle Thornton.

"No more about money to-night; we will have some music." "That is right," said Jacob. "She is right, uncle, we will defer the subject."

Lucy sat down to her harp and conjured from the glowing strings our dreamy story of the happy land; and when the melody had taken full possession of Jacob's memory she sang the simple words with the sympathetic tenderness of the old days; while Uncle Thornton nodded his white head to the music and sipped his sherry in silence.

CHAPTER L.

MR. BONSALL AS A CABINET MINISTER

SEEKS RE-ELECTION FOR MIDDLETON; AND IS OPPOSED.

UNCLE THORNTON had often urged Jacob Martyn to go into Parliament. It was the fear of being compelled to abandon this ambitious project that made the bank failure seem more serious than it was. Within a few days of the stoppage of the establishment it was announced that there would be a dividend of ten shillings in the

pound. Thus it was not necessary that the Martyns should leave Piccadilly. Moreover, Jacob had threatened that he would show Uncle Thornton how a pen which condescended to scribble fairy tales could also create real as well as imaginary golden eggs; and he was as good as his word, for he made arrangements with his publishers for a series of new works, which they were glad to undertake on terms that were most advantageous to the author.

Meanwhile a vacancy occurred in the representation of Middleton. Mr. Bonsall had been promoted to the Ministry. It was not generally the custom to oppose a member under these circumstances, but that proud old gentleman Uncle Thornton came in post haste to Jacob with the Times in his pocket to urge afresh his desire that Jacob should go in for Parliamentary honours.

"This Bonsall is not popular neither at Middleton nor with his own party in the House; they tell me at the Conservative that he is a lowbred fellow, a money-grubber, one of your self-made, hard-fisted democrats who deserves neither consideration nor respect."

“Ah, but, Uncle Thornton, you are such an extreme Tory, you know," said Jacob. “You stand up for blood; if you had lived in the days of the Stuarts you would have believed in the divine rights of kings."

"And what would you have been for, my dear friend?" said Uncle Thornton, gravely. "Surely not on the side of that tyrant Cromwell with his hollow cant and his cut-throat fingers; why Colonel Thornton, a brave ancestor of Lucy's, fell fighting for his King at Newark-and ".

"No, Uncle Thornton, I do not think I should have been a Roundhead."

"Thank God for that," said the old gentleman.

"I should have been led away by the picturesqueness of the Cavaliers, but there is no question now about the

"Don't say any more, my dear boy. You know how I love you. You are for the Throne and the Constitution now, are you not?" "Yes, yes,” said Jacob. "And also for the people."

"Well, well, so are we all. Bonsall behaved like a blackguard to your father; you have told me so often; apart from politics and from my cherished hope of seeing you in the House, it would be a legitimate and an honourable revenge to turn Bonsall out."

"It would," said Jacob. "You have me there, uncle! Yes, you score twenty points at least when you remind me of what I owe to the dead. Give me an hour for consideration. On second thoughts let me go and see Squire Northcotes."

"That is a friendly thought," said the proud representative of Thornton glories.

Bradshaw was consulted at once, Lucy's opinion was asked, and it confirmed Jacob's own views. While arrangements were being made to catch the first train, Jacob drafted an address "to the free and independent Burgesses of Middleton-in-the-Water." When he arrived at the scene of action he found that the Squire had himself been invited to stand. Mr. Northcotes was not, however, inclined to consent. He thought it ungracious to oppose Bonsall under the circumstances. He admitted that Bonsall deserved it for various reasons; and when Jacob sat down and told him the story of the Middleton Star the Squire rattled his gold and silver, and swore that Bonsall should never sit for Middleton again unopposed-damme, as long as he had one guinea to rattle against another in fighting him!

The end was that Jacob put aside his own half-hearted designs upon the seat, and, with the aid of the popular author, Squire Northcotes sent out an address which astonished all parties, and threw the little town of Middleton into a state of delightful excitement. Solicitors were retained, public-houses were opened, printing-presses were set to work, burgess-lists were in great demand, ward meetings were summoned, corrupt palms began to itch; and there was such a general upheaving of local sentiment as Middleton had not experienced since the time of Bonsall's return under the auspices of Mr. Alfred Martyn.

As luck would have it, there was a split among the sitting member's own friends. The "Yellows" had been in power too long for the maintenance of that unity which we are always reminded on these occasions is strength. The want of competition for corporate honours on the part of the Reds had induced the Yellows to fight among themselves; and their discussions, as reported in the Middleton Guardian, were marvels of civic personality.

A feud more particularly damaging to the party had sprung up concerning the question of a public fountain. Mr. Bonsall, M.P., had made the little borough a present of £500 for an ornamental fountain and the Yellows had quarrelled about the site. Without any interference from the long trodden down and dispirited Reds, the Yellows had split up into sections, each with its distinct scheme for an ornamental fountain; and the excitement was at its height when Mr. Bonsall appealed to his constituents for re-election.

The smaller section involved in the fountain dispute, to a man, gave their adhesion to the Red candidate, whom the Guardian de scribed as "a gentleman who, while giving an independent support to

our great and glorious institutions, would gladly aid in amending them and increasing their stability; a gentleman who would ever be found recording his vote in the true interests of the nation, rendering allegiance to the Throne, and upholding that civil and religious Liberty for which our fathers had fought and bled on many a field of carnage. Mr. Northcotes, who would fight under the crimson banner, had many claims upon the electors. Native, and to the manner born, he had been educated and brought up in the locality, and had ever taken a heartfelt interest in the welfare of the ancient and loyal borough of Middleton. Blessed with a fortune far beyond that of many a rich country gentleman, Squire Northcotes had travelled much; he had visited foreign countries; he had sojourned under the sunny skies of Italy, he had climbed the Scottish mountains; he had visited the pine forests of America, and had slept at the foot of Snowdon in Wales; but nowhere, the Guardian was assured, had he found a spot more delightful to him than their own little borough, which it was now his highest ambition to represent in the great legislative assembly of England, and the welfare of which it would always be the dearest wish of his heart to promote in every possible way. The time had come for the honest, manly, and independent electors of Middleton to shake off the shackles of a clique, and send to Parliament a worthy, enlightened, sagacious, wealthy, and able man, belonging to themselves, raised among them, born in their midst—a man who would do credit to the State, and whose representation would exalt Middleton-in-theWater to a pitch of greatness the height of which was almost too dazzling for imagination."

Never had the Guardian been so eloquent; and never so scorching in satire satire which burnt and seared the reputation of Mr. Bonsall to such an extent that many of the excited Reds thought it would be impossible for him again to hold up his head in Middleton. "Persevering and industrious the hon. member had been, it is true," said the Guardian, "but persevering and industrious in what?—in earning the gratitude of a time-serving Ministry, by never giving a vote against them, even in the interest of Middleton, when her most ancient rights were concerned-persevering and industrious in truckling to the most corrupt Ministry that had ever sacrificed the independence and reputation of a great country. And for what? For place and pension; for the sweets of office! Would Middleton-in-theWater ratify this? Never!!!"

"Three cheers for the Guardian! Hooray! hooray!" cried the Reds, when the sprightly reporter of the local journal appeared on the hustings.