lose any more time now," and he sprang out and handed the ladies of the party in. David's secession made the rowing devolve wholly upon Paul and Will, who wrought however with a good-hearted will, and the boat sped on merrily under the bright blue sky, and between the patches of tall ripe rush grass, standing up straight, golden, and graceful, like miniature corn fields, from the quiet waters.

All around was lovely, the thorns and shrubs of the brightest and freshest green, their foliage still thin enough for the busy, never-quiet tit, with its long forked tail, and endless movements, to be a constant subject of interest and amusement, whilst the distant forest trees were putting out their first buds of lake and orange, their purple mantle vying with the greenness of the thorns in beauty.

Meanwhile David had gone home quietly enough till out of sight of Paul, and then, poor boy, had flung himself upon the grass despairingly.

"I never will try to get the better of my temper again, never, if I'm only to be treated so! No one cares for me, not even mother-," here he stopped, for the memory of her parting kiss came before him, soothing even then. "Oh, if she would be kind to me; would but help me as she does Gordon and Will; but she never hardly says a word to me except to scold me. I wonder if Paul will tell her about this; I don't care though; I won't say why I went on; he shall never know."

The others, late as the lovely evening, and their own enjoyment had tempted them to be, came in before him, and Mrs. Wynne's first words after the flood of common delight had been poured upon her were, "What, David fishing still ?"

"I don't know; I suppose so, mamma," answered Laura, "he wouldn't go with us."

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Well, make haste to tea and dinner now; papa is quite ready," and up the young party hurried.

Mrs. Wynne followed Will to his attic. "I thought you told me, Will, David said he would row down with you."

"Yes, so he did."

"Then, how came it that he has not been with you at

all ?"

Why, I don't know; he wasn't at the Shallows as we had expected, but had taken the boat on as far as the abbey meadows, and was fishing there when Paul found. him, and somehow or other they split, and Paul came back for us without him."

"At the abbey meadow? how excessively provoking, when he must have known, that of course it would have been settled to meet the boat there, if you (or Paul himself, I believe) had not thought David would object to rowing so far by himself. I am very sorry I gave into the feeling now. David is so exceedingly disobliging, he must not be spared. Besides, what right had he to break an express appointment ?"

"I don't know, but I say, mother, don't you think," cried Will, joyfully, "he rowed down there to save us the walk, and we missed somehow; he couldn't have been so impudent as to do it just to vex Paul, you know." Why should he wish to vex Paul at all ?"

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"I don't know; but Paul has put him out once or twice lately; telling him he didn't know how to behave like a gentleman, or something to that effect, and it upset David terribly."

"I suppose by upset, you mean, gave him a little excuse for showing this wretched temper of his. Some stop must be put to it; he has been as surly as possible all this week; if he did go on just to throw you all out and vex one who has always been so kind to him as Paul, I'll have him up before papa, and he shall not be spared."

"Oh, mother, don't," cried Will, his eyes full, "he is so wretched in himself already. I-I don't know, but I do think if some one could but get at him, they might do anything with him,-the only time I've seen him happy a long time was when you praised him at Christmas, when he made that map so beautifully."

"Poor fellow," said Mrs. Wynne, her own eyes bright. "Well, I promise you, Will, I will see if I can make anything of him first. Not, however, if this taking the boat on was just to please himself or spite others," and she went down again to Paul, who was preparing to start

for Merriton directly after a dinner which must be hasty indeed if he meant to catch the 7.30 train.

"Now, Paul, can you throw any light on this behaviour of David's, taking you all the way back to Fordham for nothing?"

"What, mother ?" asked Paul listlessly as if he hadn't heard.

"I was asking you about David.”

"Oh, I'm rather glad you've come about David, mother," said Paul, who had begun tying his neckerchief before the glass when Mrs. Wynne entered, but now turned round, "I can't explain his taking the boat on, but if he comes in very sulky now I can that; I spoke to him as I never should have done about taking us all that way for nothing, and that made him declare he wouldn't row an inch."

"You should have made him go, Paul."

"I don't know, mother-if my own conscience had been clearer perhaps I should; but I was so put out—it was so horribly provoking to find him fishing quietly at his ease when we'd all been tearing back to Fordham to meet him."

"I should think so; how he could dare to do it I cannot conceive-is it possible he took the boat on just to vex you ?"

"No, mother, I don't believe now he could, though I did then. I think he must have thought he should be sure to see us and could fish at his ease till we came."

"Well, and so he might at the shallows, and have kept his appointment too; no one, (a member of a large party especially,) has any right to break an agreement in the least degree.'

"Oh, but, mother, I forgot you did not know that we were very late ourselves; it was quite half-past three when we reached the shallows."

"Well, he should have waited for you."

"Of course he should; it was a horrid bore to find no one there. However, it's all over now."

'No," said Mrs. Wynne; "it is not over.

I will sift the matter to the bottom. It is not as if David had never shown such a dogged disobliging disposition before.

It has been irritating me all this week, and long before too, though he seldom gives one room exactly to find fault. He threw the whole of St. John's entertainment upon Will; never offered to take that note for your father on Wednesday, would not even say he was sorry he had let the messenger go; did not offer till the last minute to set Will at liberty this afternoon :-no, I will get to the bottom of this."

"But mother, if he should after all have done it to vex me, please remember he has excuse: you know I sha'nt be here to speak up at the right time. We quarrelled about the boating before breakfast because I had taken his going as a matter of course, and he said he wouldn't be ordered like a dog."

"Silly fellow ! if Hargrave were in your place he might know a little better what being ordered like a dog

means."

Still, altogether, I always seem to have been putting him out all the week."

"The same, I suppose, might with as good cause be said of Will or Gordon. No, it is his own wretched temper. Poor boy! it must be a perpetual punishment to himself, but I can't let it go smouldering on as I have done; I wish now I'd taken it up long ago.

"I don't know what to make of him," said Paul, after a moment's pause.

"Nor I," answered Mrs. Wynne, sadly; "he shuts himself up from me more almost than from all of you; I feel now that I do not know my own child."

Her voice and manner showed how much hurt and pained she felt.

"Never mind, mother, he's such a mere boy yet," said Paul quickly," and most boys find it so hard to show any feeling; Will is an exception, but all can't be like him; and if they were, what a noisy, mischievous family it would be. I do believe David's steady, quiet temper has saved Will from a hundred scrapes; just think if his next brother had been like himself, how endless they would have been."

"As fatal a conjunction as his and St. John's getting together, perhaps," said Mrs. Wynne, half smiling, "yes,

of course it's all for the best, and in spite of David's sullenness, as I said the other night, I have a kind of trust of him at the bottom. Well,-but I must be going to papa," and she rose.

"Stop a minute, mother," said Paul, suddenly; "you know you told Hannah to ring the bell as soon as Barbara and Isabella came down, so they can't be down yet; I want to speak to you about something."

"What?" asked Mrs. Wynne, alarmed at his peculiar manner and trembling voice.

Paul recovered himself, "I didn't mean to frighten you, mother; it's only I've been thinking it all over since I came in, and I think I am falling in love," he could not help smiling as well as colouring, "with Isabella Kelso. Oughtn't I to keep away ?"

"My dear boy! in love? you?" repeated Mrs. Wynne, incredulously.

"Yes, I think so; I don't else see what makes me always want to be with her, or so angry if every one does not treat her as I think properly."

Mrs. Wynne stood in thought a minute.

I don't know, mother-you know what Madame St. Croix would think of it, how rich they are or anythingI am only a clerk, you know, and so very young;—why, till just now I never thought of marrying for ten years at least."

"Let me see-two and twenty next month ?"

"Yes," and Paul looked as if he had made an absurd proposal.

"And she twenty; well, you can both afford to wait, that is, if she be of the same mind."

"Then you think I might ask her? that it wouldn't be dishonourable or anything?"

"I don't see anything dishonourable in the matter; she has seen plenty of society, and poor girl! has nothing but a hundred a year, nor can expect more-the Kelsos are a poor family, it is Madame St. Croix, Isabella Simpson that was, that had the fortune-not my cousin, St. John Kelso, and so I think Isabella's relations may be well content that she should have a rising man like you for a husband."