he was anywhere about, for we had seen him go by that way hours before."

"And had you seen him come back?" significantly.

"Oh dear, no, Mrs Hunt; we had never looked. We had forgotten all about him."

Lily, you see, did not mind making gratuitous statements. That they were false Mrs Hunt knew, and longed to tell her so, boldly; but she could only, restrained by the decencies of polite intercourse, express her disbelief in looks, and this naturally fretted her the more.

"Maria told me"-always poor Maria, the scapegoat"that you had several disappointments from other carriages

that seemed like his in the distance."

"Yes, Maria was disappointed. She thought it was never coming, and we told her probably it had passed long before. But she would not believe us. I can't think what she wants to see, I am sure, in the outside of the barouche."

"At any rate, that was all she did see of it."

For her life Mrs Hunt could not repress so much, though even as the words escaped her lips, she knew they were unwise.

She was fast losing ground. She was saying things she never meant to say. They seemed to be wrung out of her without her consent and against her will. She gave Lily a step at every turn, and Lily was not slow to take it.

66

"I am so sorry, Mrs Hunt; you seem to think we ought to have made Maria get in. I am sure I wish we had, it would have been so much pleasanter for Helen too. How could we be so stupid? I am sure I would gladly have gone myself," continued she, getting into the regions of truth at last; "for my boots were too tight, and I was tired besides; but really I did not see how to do it without appearing to intrude."

On the whole, Mrs Hunt gained nothing by her visit. She and Lily had had a passage of arms, and Lily had come off the victor.

The facts remained the same, and she had acquired additional certainty that the Tolletons were acting up to her prediction.

On this point she pronounced emphatically, as soon as she returned home.

Maria and Clare peevishly demurred.

Whatever the Tolletons did, mamma was down upon them. The Tolletons never spoke against her, as she did against them. Why could she not let them alone? Mamma went and crossquestioned them, Maria and Clare, and then made up all sorts of things they had never said, and it was very hard, and the Tolletons would think it very unkind of them.

Mamma always fancied the Tolletons meant all sorts of things they had never even thought of; and Clare even went so far as to revolt, and declare she would never tell her mother anything again, if she went making mischief in that way.

Clare, however, had threatened this before now. She and Maria had long since learnt that it was their best policy to keep quiet about a number of things the Tolletons did.

They never saw the sinister meanings so plain to their mother's eye. They never spied out nasty motives and sneers, and things behind the scenes, as she did. In short, Mrs Hunt told them bluntly, that they could no more put two and two together than if they were blind bats and deaf adders.

They, in their turn, thought her bitterly unjust. They would fain have shielded their friends from her undeserved vituperations. They would have hidden them from her

arrows.

This, however, was a vain hope. Do what they would, they could not keep the Tolletons out of their mouths. If they had an opinion to offer, it had been gained at Freelands. If there was a book to be read, a picture to be seen, a concert, a lecture, anything they wished to go to, she knew who had told them of it. It followed that she then scoffed at the Tolletons, and went to the lecture. The lecture, or whatever it was, was all very well, but those girls must be gadding about for ever. It wasn't one thing or another, but they were always finding out this and that, instead of staying at home, and minding their own business.

Up to the present time this general strain of condemnation had been all wherewith she blighted the Tolletons. She had had no specific complaint to make of them. Whatever they did she disapproved, of course; but far from carrying her disapprobation any farther, she was perhaps the only mother in the neighbourhood who permitted her

daughters unrestrained intercourse with the free and fast Miss Tolletons.

"Vulgar woman!" exclaimed Helen, passionately, as soon as their visitor had departed. "She got quite insolent at last. We shall have to put a stop to this. I wonder you had the patience to answer her, Lily; I am sure I couldn't."

"I think I answered her pretty well," said Lily, with modest confidence.

"Indeed you did. But it was as well, perhaps, that she had left Maria behind."

"I wouldn't be poor Maria when her mother goes home. She won't know what to make of it at all. But she really did want to see the barouche, and she will stand to that, I know."

"She would stand to anything she thought we wanted," said Helen," so long as we could persuade her it was the truth. The worst of Maria is, you have to be so dreadfully particular with her. I am sure, to make her believe one story, I often have to tell such a number, that she ought to be held responsible for them all. But she is a good creature, and would do anything for us, if it is only pointed out to her, so that she can't mistake the way. After all, Lily, am almost sorry we did not let her come with me yesterday. It would have saved appearances; and she is such a nonentity, you know, she would have been no more than a block of wood sitting by. The poor thing would have enjoyed it so much, I really wish we had let her."

I

"I had reasons for being determined," said Lily. "I wasn't only helping your little flirtation, Miss Helen. You won't tell me what you are up to, but I suspect there may be a serious end to this, and I approve," nodding significantly; so now I mean to give my poor assistance, and you will see I am no mean ally either."

"But what were your most sapient reasons for excluding Maria?" said Helen, laughing.

"I'll tell you.

It was not so much for her interference as this. You see the Hunts don't know Mr Smith yet. Now, if he had driven Maria home, of course Dr Hunt must have called at once. The only reason he has not done it yet, is because he thinks it best to hang back at first, being the doctor. He hates to be thought professional, you

know. But all the time he is dying for some excuse to take him to the Hill. I know, by the way he questioned us yesterday, and tried to find out who had been and who had not."

"How could he expect you to know?"

"I suppose he thought I could watch who went by; as if I cared to do that. Mrs Hunt would, I daresay; she is always at that bow-window of hers."

"But we can't see the road."

"Yes, we can, from our window, and he knows that well enough; for he stood looking out that day I was ill, and remarked about the Fulton's waggonette, don't you remember? That's not what I want to say, however. The thing is, to keep him as long as possible from knowing Mr Smith."

"And I can't imagine why.

of the fair Maria's charms? he knows him or not?"

Do you think I'm afraid What can it matter whether

"It matters because Dr Hunt never did like рара. You know how papa can't bear him; and he always takes these dislikes to people who are bad to him. He must have heard something of the sort, for he was quite ready to be friends at one time. So, if Dr Hunt goes to Mr Smith and laughs at papa, it would be a great pity, supposing, you knownodding again with emphasis. "Now, can't you see why it is best these two should be kept apart a little longer, if possible?"

In two things Lily was right. She was right in saying that Dr Hunt did not like her father, and also that he was very desirous of becoming acquainted with Mr Smith. He had ascertained that others, besides Mr Tolleton, had called at the Hill.

Mr Rodney, the curate, had returned from Wales, and had called immediately on his arrival. The Deanes had called. Captain Wellwood had called. More than all these, Lord Sauffrenden had called. He felt that the time had come when Dr Hunt might call.

The only drawback to his doing so now, was his wife. She never knew when to let well alone; and having seized on the definite project of her husband's going to the Hill, so chafed and worried him by her perpetual harping on the subject, that he had done as she desired, a whole day,

before he would give her the satisfaction of knowing it. Mrs Hunt said it was too bad of him, but she said it with a sparkling eye. Now, indeed, she felt that she had entered the lists.

Helen Tolleton was a formidable foe, and her heart had sunk within her bosom when she left Freelands after the

passage of arms before narrated. But she thought, nay, she felt sure, that during the succeeding week, at the end of which the doctor had left his card, nothing more had passed between Mr Smith and their neighbours at Freelands.

The Tolletons had not asked Mr Smith to dinner, or if they had, he had not gone. For once in her life she inclined to the more charitable view, and believed they had not asked him. But it was hardly from charity, so much as from instinct, that she believed it. She felt uncomfortably certain that if he had been asked he would have gone. And she was right. He would have gone, with a great deal of pleasure.

But the Tolletons had not asked him although it was now nearly three weeks since their grandmother's death. They had consulted with each other, and felt that it was better not.

Not having been at home when Mr Tolleton called, Mr Smith, it is true, knew nothing of the recent loss in their family; but it had so happened that during his drive with Helen, he had made some remarks which made her feel sure he would be particular on a point like this. She had herself led to these remarks. She wished to find out what he thought.

All through the drive, even when she was most engaged in rendering herself engaging, she was carefully studying her companion. Would he only do for a passing hour, or was it worth while to think of the future? She was twenty-one, and tired of being Miss Tolleton. This man might suit her, and if so, everything else was all that she desired.

For a short tête-à-tête She was not vain of many a one without a

Now, how about her suiting him? her first appearance was sufficient. her looks-not one half as vain as tithe of her beauty; but she had learnt, as she could hardly help learning, its value.