son. their home, that meritorious town was not en-care that no one should be able to quote such a tirely unconcerned with its own scandals. It statement as her own. Her husband, who was had soon ceased to be a secret that a deputation the mildest of solicitors, had once been comfrom the Dorcas Society was to attend at Sax-pelled, in her younger days, to give her such a bury, and deliver the opinion of the Serious in tremendous warning against testifying to the Naybury upon the sad heterodoxy of the rector's truth in a way unfavorably regarded by the law The worldly in the town, though they of libel, that she had learned to restrain her had no particular hesitation in saying, among Christian denunciations within safe limits. themselves, that the idea of dispatching such a Nevertheless, one morning, about the time when mission to Saxbury was outrageously imperti- the higher classes of Naybury came out, and the nent, nevertheless hypocritically affected to ap- neighboring folks drove in, Mrs. Bulliman reprove it when any of the Dorcas ladies were paired to the Chervil exchange, ready to accept within hearing. The motive for this was two- any battle that might be offered. fold. It arose in part from the natural desire to see the dullness of Naybury enlivened by a proceeding which would cause considerable and prolonged excitement, and partly from the belief that the rector of Saxbury, if once brought to bay, would inflict a tremendous castigation upon his censors, whose extraordinary goodness was not pleasant to a number of Naybury people. It was very unfairly said by some who might have been expected to know better, and did, that the delay in the movement upon Saxbury was caused by Mrs. Bulliman's having "thought better of it," that is to say, by that excellent nearly killed herself by engaging, with characterlady's courage having failed her. But this un-istic obstinacy, in a fight with the paroxysms of the hooping-cough. Moreover, she knew that such an excuse would not serve her, for Sophia, who really was bilious and headachy, was often ordered to remember that such thorns in the flesh (an unkind phrase, for she had very little of the latter) must be borne, and not allowed to interfere with duty. Therefore, Phœbe, nerving herself for the act, had signified in a straightforward manner that she would not go out. Previously, however, Mrs. Bulliman had been irritated, for disaffection had broken out in her own house. Miss Phoebe Bulliman, who had never been so docile as her sister Sophia, and of whose early sins we and those persons present heard something at the Dorcas meeting, had perfectly well understood on what errand her mother was going, and had desired to be left at home. She knew better than to urge the unconverted young lady's insincere excuse of a headache, for the thin, grim, wiry maiden had never had an hour's illness since the time when she "Before saying another word, Phoebe," her mother had replied, calmly, "you will tell me your reason for objecting." "My reason, mamma, is, that I have considered every thing that was said at the last Dorcas meeting, and I have decided, I hope not without good grounds, that what was then agreed upon was a mistake." "That the entire body, many of them much older than yourself, and one of them your mother, made a mistake, and that Phoebe Bulliman is right?" worthy suggestion was perhaps hazarded only for the purpose of stimulating her to the onset. The notion had been traced to the chemist, Mr. Chervil, whose skepticism had been so clearly proved by Mrs. Bulliman, on the ground that he had spoken of the "Mosaic" account of the creation, and who therefore was an atheist, or about to become one. This unhappy man had said to Mrs. De Gully, a lady of the neighborhood (and herself rather given over to the demon of geology, when there were no majors or the like to flirt with at Martletowers, her absentee husband's seat), that it would probably be known in due time that Mr. Bulliman had saved his wife's credit by objecting to the proposed visit. Mrs. De Gully, with a painful levity, had authorized Mr. Chervil to say that if Mr. Grafton were persecuted in the manner intended, an address of condolence should be presented to him, and she should be happy to be the first to sign it. Those who are fortunate enough to be acquainted with such places as Naybury will have little difficulty in believing that from Mr. Chervil's, which was a sort of tacitly recognized mart of small talk, this defiance was speedily carried into the Dorcas camp. Mrs. Bulliman heard of it, and though conscious of no shortcomings on her own part, she deemed it due to her supporters to explain that the reason why the enterprise against the Graftons had been delayed was that Mr. Abbott, the lawyer, was sojourning with the rector, and Mrs. Bulliman added a few mysterious words, which were interpreted to mean, as she intended that they should be, that while Mr. Grafton was in the midst of le-but at all events I am old enough to be algal and pecuniary difficulties it was not the time to attack him in reference to his son's contempt for missionaries. But Mrs. Bulliman, though zealous, was prudent enough to take "I have yet to learn," said Phoebe, who read the debates, "that one person is bound to sacrifice a conviction because it is held by many. And I am too old, mamma, to be spoken to in the style of the dialogues in children's books." "Nobody knows better how old you are than I do, Phoebe, though few know so well how imperfectly you have improved seven-and-twenty precious years." Seven-and-twenty! It sounded needlessly emphatic and unkind, Phœbe thought, and her mother might just as well have said twenty-seven. "It is not for me to speak of myself," she said; lowed to take my own course in a matter of this kind. You are going out, mamma, in the hope of meeting somebody who does not approve the way in which you intend to treat the Graftons, "I am surprised-bitterly surprised, Phoebe, at this subterfuge. A rebellious spirit I might pardon, but the pretense that affection for me teaches you to disobey my wishes is a piece of hypocrisy so fearful that it makes me tremble for my child." and I request you to spare me the pain of stand- | Phoebe had been as hard and as severe as that ing by to hear things said to you which I could of a judge with a culprit. But it would be a not contradict.' mistake to suppose that there was any want of true and motherly affection. There were no sacrifices, there was no hard work which, had fortune made it necessary, Mrs. Bulliman would not have at once undertaken for her children, and steadily persevered in to the end. But she had been taught that authority was the true government for the household, and having herself an innate love of command, she had preferred absolute sway to gentler influences, and had found no difficulty in satisfying herself, theologically, that she was right. Now this speech, coming from an ordinary mother, who was not in the habit of being solemn and menacing on light occasions, might have brought an ordinary daughter to her parent's arms in tears. But among a certain class stern denunciation is so usual an instrument of domestic rule that it often fails to tell, and Phoebe must not be supposed to have been an undutiful young person because she remained in her chair, and did not even drop "Smooth Stones from Ancient Brooks," which she had been read-gether crushed. If it were not intruding into ing, with gratitude to Mr. Spurgeon for airing Mr. Brooks's jewels. "Yes, mamma," said Phœbe, quietly. I wish to stay at home." "But Phoebe had not much more attention for Ancient Brooks that day; but the plant of hope, when it has taken any root in a bosom that has beaten for seven-and-twenty years, is not plucked out at the first tug, and Phoebe was not alto her secrets too far, it might be hinted that possibly a thought of a very worldly kind indeed interfused itself among higher aspirations. Miss Phoebe Bulliman knew that her own father was rich, and believed that Edward Grafton's father was not so. If ruin should come upon Saxbury, how sweet to think that the young clergyman might be saved from all trouble of the world if he did but cast his fine eyes in a right direction. Meantime Mrs. Bulliman, discomposed but ton. "I shall not ask you twice to accompany me. I shall not now give expression to my feelings as to your conduct. It must be considered by me in silence in my chamber. But I will ask you one thing: Do you suppose that I am deceived as to your motives, Phoebe ?" “No, mamma, I hope not; because I have dignified, summoned her more docile aid-detold you what they are." camp, Sophia, and went forth. And the first "You have told me what they are!" repeat-person they met was pretty little Fanny Buxed Mrs. Bulliman, with a tone of scornful reproach. "You have not. But I will tell you what they are, and deeply am I wounded at your want of self-respect. You need not assume that look of pretended surprise. I know you, and your heart. You wish me to abstain from giving offense to the Graftons, and you wish it because you have still a hope, a contemptible hope, that Edward Grafton may yet be brought to think of you. Answer that to your own con science, if not to me, Phoebe." "I am so pleased," said Fanny. "I have had a letter from Mrs. Ernest Dormer-only a few lines, but quite delightful. They are staying at the most lovely place in the Highlands; and she desires to be kindly remembered to all friends." "When did you hear, Fanny?" was Mrs. Bulliman's cold demand. "Yesterday morning. I should have called and told Phoebe, but the day was so very wet mamma told me not to go out." "You did well to obey her," said Mrs. Bulli "Phoebe has not heard from Mrs. Dormer, Sophia, or she would have mentioned it ?" "I know that she has not, mamma." "Ah!" said Fanny Buxton; "but the happy pair are moving about, and you know how difficult it is to write when you are traveling, though it seems so absurd to say so. I have really only a scrap of a note, with a picture of an inn at the top; Phœbe will have a more dignified letter." "You have no right to say this, mamma. "I have a right to say what I please to my own child," began Mrs. Bulliman; but the sev-man. en-and-twenty years were palpably before her, and she could not help feeling that scolding was rather out of date. She controlled her anger, and said, "You are afraid to answer, and you need not. Stay at home. But keep your own counsel, Phoebe," she added, for she was a good mother after all. "You have as much chance of becoming Edward Grafton's wife as you have of preaching in his pulpit. Though you are so much wiser than your mother, you may believe this: Edward Grafton never had a thought for you, and he loved another person, of whom I trust he has learned to think no longer, but do not you therefore encourage any vain hopes. You had better retire to your room and ponder over what I have said, and then you will perhaps be prepared to meet me in a more becoming manner in the afternoon." Mrs. Bulliman went out. Her language to "Was that meant for impertinence, Sophia?" said her mother, after they had parted from Fanny. "No, mamma; I do not think so, at least." "I do." "Perhaps it was, too," said the easily convinced Sophia. "And certainly it was impertinence to boast that Mrs. Dormer had paid her the attention of writing to her before any other of the bridemaids." "Ah, Mrs. Bulliman!" said a cheerful voice. It was that of pretty Mrs. Fanshaw's husband, "Jump up, then, that's capital," chuckled Lord Mazagon, whom the gout kept out of the only place he cared for in the world-the snuggest corner of a favorite club in London, where he heard stories that he might just as well have left off laughing at. The barouche went off at a great pace, his lordship driving excellently in spite of weakened wrists; but we will not follow it, but still attend Mrs. Bulliman, whom Fanshaw had grievously enraged. "What right had Mr. Fanshaw to use papa's "Mrs. Fanshaw was not at the Dorcas meet-name ?" said Sophia, who desired to pull out ing on Wednesday, or she would have informed the vent-peg and let her mother's indignation you that the subject was being reconsidered," | run. said Mrs. Bulliman. "If I do not notice that, you need not, I think," said her mother, turning angrily upon her well-meaning offspring. "No, she was not; but it was my fault," said Fanshaw. "Fact is, that there was a capital concert at Wharnton that night, with some of They went on in the direction of Mr. Cherthe stars from London; so I made Bessy run vil's, but another interruption awaited them in over with me by the rail, and we caught the the not very pleasing form of Mrs. Cutcheon. Brandington express, and were home to supper. This lady lost very little time in greetings in We enjoyed it amazingly, and she appreciates the market-place or any where else, and withgood music, and therefore deserves to hear it." out even taking the trouble to assume the con"Your wife fares better than your sisters did," ventional smile that testifies how gladly you besaid Sophia, who had a wonderful memory for hold your friend, she came close to Mrs. Bulold quarrels, and who recollected a trifling fam-liman, and said, in an undertone of remonily discussion at Fanshaw's before he brought his wife home. ten. strance: "So you have been frightened out of the Saxbury business, I hear. I don't say that you are not right, but it makes us all look awkward." "I am not aware that I was ever frightened "Oh, have you not forgotten that ?" laughed Fanshaw. "You must get married, Miss Bulliman, and then you won't carry about memories of things the people concerned have forgot-out of any business, Mrs. Cutcheon." And so you reconsider the Saxbury business?-and quite right too. I told Bessy that I knew you had too much sense to think seriously of such a thing, and that I was quite sure Bulliman would put a spoke in the wheel. I'm very glad to hear it indeed. But there's Lord Mazagon-I must catch him, or he'll be off. Good-by! I wish you would come and see us; Bessy has some new pictures to show you. Do." Fanshaw was off, but this rattle-talk had hit hard. And, moreover, although he was a perfectly good-humored fellow, and though few married couples ever laughed more cheerily together than he and his Bessy, he was quite capable of delivering a little castigation when he thought it was wanted. He adored Bessy, and he knew that in Dorcas she was not adored; so he was naturally prejudiced against that institution, and though he spoke to the Bullimans, as to most people, in a tone that forbade offense, the words were not quite so harmless when you took them by themselves. And Fanshaw winked to himself as he stopped Lord Mazagon's barouche. "My dear," she said to her awful friend, "you are quite right to take that tone with most people, but not with me. We know one another too well for that. I mean nothing but kindness, and, indeed, I was coming to see you, and ask whether you do not think that for a little time it will be best for the Dorcas meetings to stand over. The work for the poor, you know, can just as well be done at the homes of the ladies, privately, and we can effect quite as much good, without being blamed." "Who is to blame us, Mrs. Cutcheon, and for what? I don't understand you." When "Well, my dear, you are an older person than myself, much older, and I would not venture to set my experiences against yours, or deny that you are worthy to lead among us as you desire to do, and I must say do very excellently. I consider myself privileged to know you. But I can not quite shut my own eyes. those who lead, and who very properly expect a certain amount of Christian submission from younger persons, so completely change their views-I am sure for the best reasons-it does not tend to keep up the confidence of humbler folks in the earnestness and sincerity of the othSo that I think, my dear, that instead of bringing our bold declarations into contrast with "But I don't see Mrs. Fanshaw," said the our second thoughts, and having a rather hucourtly old nobleman, looking round, "and she miliating meeting, we had better let the matter knows that I am the most devoted of her ad-blow over, and have our delightful union again mirers. I would not pass her without taking in the winter." off my hat for a thousand pounds." "Winking at me, Fanshaw ?" said his lordship, pulling up, and laughing. "No, my lord, I was winking at my wife," ers. said Mr. Fanshaw. All this was said with so much show of grave "She is not hereabouts. I will tell you a story." I condolence with a person in a supposed state of mortification, that the carnal nature of Mrs. | men, about her good looks. Rather tall, but Bulliman rebelled, and she was sufficiently left to herself to say: lissom and graceful, and somewhat slight, Mrs. De Gully looked admirably upon a horse, which she rode splendidly, especially to hounds, or on the high seat of a barouche, which she drove as well as Lord Mazagon could do. Perhaps she looked to less advantage lounging back in her "The next Dorcas meeting will be held at my house on Thursday next, and those who stay away from that meeting had better stay away from all future ones. I have no time for further explanation now, Mrs. Cutcheon, but I shall ex-pony-carriage, with too much effort to look per pect you." "And you shall see me, too," said Mrs. Cutcheon to herself. But fectly at her ease. You could then examine her face, which she was quite ready to show you, and you could admire the large soft eyes, the At length Mrs. Bulliman came in sight of rich complexion, and the saucy mouth, and would Mr. Chervil's new architectural shop-front, the not perhaps complain that she had no regular costliness of which may have been his reason beauty. Possibly you might think that the eyefor putting only sixpence into the plate after brows had been artificially improved, but you Mr. Yotes's missionary lecture, which shame- would be wrong-there were no pigments of any fully insignificant donation had drawn upon him kind on Mrs. De Gully. As for the next questhe censure of Dorcas. Mr. Chervil, though only tions, who and what she was, the answers were a tradesman, was somebody in Naybury. His not very ready, or at least they were not very large and handsome shop, which was all neatness consistent. She was held by those who believed and brilliancy, was, as has been said, a favorite what they were told, in the absence of reasons rendezvous for the better sort of the inhabitants. for doubting it (which is a sensible habit), to be He was a wise man in his generation. He was the wife of Captain De Gully, R.N., 'whom nohighly educated, very skillful in his own calling, body at Naybury had ever seen. It was not, and one who knew quite as much about medi- however, supposed that he was sailing in his cine as any of the Naybury practitioners, for ship, doing Her Majesty service, but more probwhom he entertained a secret but supreme con- ably that he was disloyally avoiding the service tempt-a sentiment, indeed, which he also held of certain documents bearing Her Majesty's in regard to the majority of his customers, high message. He never came to Martletowers, the and low. But he had to live, and he was ex- somewhat neglected mansion in which his wife quisitely civil. His tall, slim figure, always in resided, some four miles from the town. close-fitting black, his beautifully white hair, this did not prevent her having many visitors, carefully combed from the back to the front of some of them of a good sort, and Mrs. De Gully, his head, and his high nose and delicate feat- though not much visited by the ladies of the disures would, any where but behind a counter, trict, was in society, and the men called on her have been very favorably regarded. No greater with the utmost punctuality, and were seldom contrast could be imagined than between him in a hurry to come away. She gave few dinand our friend Mr. Benjamin Dudley, except ners, but had instituted a series of Saturday between their respective establishments. Dud-lunches, which were held in a sort of conservaley's slovenly shop, and its miscellaneous and ignoble contents, have been noticed. Mr. Chervil sold every thing which Mr. Dudley sold, and perhaps a few more articles apart from the pharmacopoeian roll. But, with the exception of choice perfumes, all such matters were vended in a small side-shop under the care, not of an obnoxious boy like Mr. Cubb Spitty, but of a most gentlemanly assistant, who was only less refined than the master whom he imitated. The large and handsome shop was devoted to the chemist's own proper wares, and there were set chairs of much whiteness of cane and polish of back, and there was a pretty little fountain, which played scented water. Into this fountain, a few minutes before Mrs. Bulliman's arrival, showy Mrs. De Gully was dipping the corner of a handkerchief much too fine for that period of the day. This incident is mentioned expressly for the purpose of prejudicing the reader against Mrs. De Gully, and showing that she was not a lady. The reader must please not to like Mrs. De Gully. A great many persons liked her; but we ought to like only the good and virtuous, and there is no means of positively proving the fact that she was either. There was no question, at least among tory, and which were a gracious relief to the set and heavy banquets of the country houses around, and men actually smoked in her presence after these repasts. By way of companion Mrs. De Gully generally had with her a singular little woman, very pale, and always dressed in pearl gray, and her patroness called this person Francine, and stated that she could neither speak nor understand any language but French. That Francine could speak French was certain, upon the other points there were suspicions. Servants had reported that she had been heard to speak very good English to certain visitors—but then servants will say any thing. CHAPTER XXV. THE SINGLE COMBAT. OVER the handsome face of Mr. Chervil, the alleged skeptic, there came a curious look as he saw Mrs. Bulliman, attended by Sophia, approaching his establishment. By an equally curious coincidence he was just then putting together, for temporary peace, some packets of two powders which are quiet enough while sep arate, but which, when they mingle in the glass, | to which it had pleased Providence to call him, effervesce in a furious manner. The learned and to avail themselves of his shrewdness, local chemist had few amusements in Naybury. His knowledge, and caustic pen. The Naybury fellow-tradesmen were worthy, or at least they called one another so in speeches, but were mostly dullards, as those speeches testified, and as Thersites remarks to Patroclus, he profited not by their talk. Being a tradesman, of course he could not visit the houses of those who were not in trade, except at election times, when the most haughty were content to forget the station theatre was seldom open, and when it was, although the criticisms sent to London by the stage-manager would make one believe that a more brilliant collection of stars never assembled, Mr. Chervil, who had seen real acting, did not support the Nayburian drama. He was too clever to play any instrument, and too saving to play at cards-let not this last fact be set |