for me, I've aye found time to finish what I was about. Is it the father that makes you so unwilling for any correspondence?-but it's awfu' easy to settle a thing like that."

"I think you want to try how far my patience can go," said Colin, who had grown crimson up to the hair. "Do you think a man has no feeling, Lauderdale? Do you think it is possible to be treated as I have been, and yet go back again with humility, hat in hand? I don't feel myself capable of that."

"If you're asking me my opinion," said Lauderdale, calmly, "I've nae objection to tell you what I think. You're no vindictive, and you've nae pride to speak of-I'm meaning pride of that kind. It's no in you to bear a grudge at onybody beyond, maybe, the hour or the day. So I'm no heeding much about that question, for my part. If you had an awfu' regard for the man, he might affront you; but no being indifferent. I'm telling you just my opinion, with my partial knowledge of the premises-but for her, I cannot but say what is in my ain mind. I've a kind of longing to see her again; we used to be awfu' good friends, her and me. I had you to take care of, callant, and she had him; and whiles she had a moment of envy, and grudged terrible in her heart to see the air and the sun, that are for baith the good and the evil, so hard upon him, and so sweet to you; there was little in her mind to hide, and her and me were good friends. I'll never forget our counts and our reckonings. It's awfu' hard for the like o' me to divine wherefore it is that a' that has come to an end, and her and you dropped out of one another's life."

"Lauderdale," said Colin, with a little choking in his voice, "I will tell you what I never told you beforeand then the young man stopped short, as if he had received a blow. What Iwas it that came over him like an imperious sudden prohibition, stopping the words upon his lips the first time he had ever dreamt of uttering them to mortal ear? He had a feeling somehow as if one of those flying shadows that

kept coming and going over the mountains had taken another shape and come before him, and put a cold hand on his lips. He was about to have confessed that his love had been no more than tender compassion and kindness; he was about to have said what Lauderdale perhaps might have guessed before, what Colin had kept secret and hidden in his breast-that Alice never was nor could be the ideal woman of his thoughts, the true love who waited for him somewhere in the future. But perhaps, after all, it was no shadow nor unseen influence, but only the young man's magnanimous heart that spared that humiliation to the name of Alice-solely to her name; for, now that all was over between them, it was only that abstract representation of her that was concerned.

"Ay," said Lauderdale, after a moment, "you were going to tell meand then he rose as Colin had done, and threw his knapsack on his shoulder, and prepared to resume his march.

"We shall have an hour's walking in the dark, if we don't make all the better progress," said Colin; "which is uncomfortable when one does not know the way.

Per

And now to return to No. I." he said with a laugh, as they went on along the dusty road. There was not another word said between them of the confession thus abruptly stopped. haps Lauderdale in his heart had a perception of what it meant ; but, however that might be, both fell at once with eagerness, as if they had never digressed for a moment, upon the first number of Colin's Tracts for the Times.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

THIS conversation, however, as was natural, had a certain effect upon both the friends. It threw Colin, who, to be sure, was chiefly concerned, into a world of confused imaginations, which influenced even his dreams, and through his dreams reacted upon himself. When he was alone at night, instead of going to sleep at once, as would have been natural after his day's journey, he kept

And

falling into absurd little dozes, and waking up suddenly with the idea that Alice was standing by him, that she was calling him, that it was the marriageday, and that somebody had found him out, and was about to tell his bride that he did not love her; and at last, when he went to sleep in good earnest, the fantastic mélange of recollection and imagination carried him back to Frascati, where he -found Arthur and Alice, as of old, in the great salone, with its frescoed walls, and talked to them as in the former days. He thought Meredith told him of an important journey upon which he was setting out, and made arrangements in the meantime for his sister with an anxiety which the real Arthur had never dreamt of exhibiting. "She will be safe with you at present," the visionary Arthur seemed to say, "and by-and-by you will send her to mewhen Colin woke it was hard for him to convince himself at first that he had not been in actual communication with his friend. He accounted for it, of course, as it is very easy to account for dreams, and convinced himself, and yet left behind in some crevice of his heart a dumb consciousness, which hid itself out of sight that it might not be argued with, that after all Arthur and he in the dark had passed by each other, and exchanged a word or thought in passing. Colin took care not to betray even to himself the existence of this conviction; but deep down in the silence it influenced him unawares. As for Lauderdale, his thoughts, as might have been expected, had taken another direction. Perhaps he was past the age of dreaming. Colin's revelation which he did not make had possibly told his friend more than if it had been said out in words; and all the thoughts of the elder man had fixed upon the strange problem which has been discussed so often with so little result-how there are some people who can have love for the asking, and reject it, and how there are some who would die for that dear consolation, to whom it does not come. To be sure, he was not philosophical on this subject, and the chances are that he attributed to Alice feelings much deeper

and more serious than any that had actually moved her. The chances were, indeed, for all that Lauderdale knew, that she had accepted her position, as Colin thought, dutifully, and obeyed her father, and ceased to think anything about the romantic projects and strange companionship of their Italian life. But the friend was more faithful than the lover, and had a more elevated idea of Alice and her capabilities; and he took to talking in his vague way, hovering round the subject in wide circles, now and then swooping down for a moment on some point that approached, as closely as he thought it right to approach, to the real centre of his thoughts.

"Thae great hills are awfu' in the way," said Lauderdale. "I'm no saying but they're an ornament to a country, and grand things for you, and the like of you, that make verses; but I canna see any reason why they should come between me and the sun. I'm no so high, but I'm maybe mair important in the economy of creation. Yet, for a' that, there's yon bald fellow yonder, with a' those patches on his crown, puts himself right between us and the light without even asking pardon. It's no respectful to you in your position, Colin. They're awfu' like men. I've seen a man standing like that across another man's life or whiles another woman's," said the philosopher. "It's not an encouraging spectacle. I'm no heeding about Nature, that kens no better; but for a man

"Perhaps the man, too, might know no better," said Colin, laughing; but his laugh was slightly uneasy, for he, too, had been thinking, and it seemed to him that the subject was an unfortunate one to start with. "I don't see that he is much more responsible than the mountain. It may be in pursuing his own path, simply enough, that he shadows another man's for the momentor another woman's, as you say, Lauderdale," he said, breaking off and laughing again. Somehow a little rabsurd colour had come to his face, he could not tell why.

ous for a minister. When he's popular like you he has so many paths to cross— and young-and a kind of genius in his way-and no to call bad-looking neither," said the critic, turning upon Colin a somewhat savage look; "and then the women part of them, they're often awfu' haverils, and a young minister canna be uncivil. It's nae fault of the hill, but it's awfu' silly of me to let myself be kept in the shade."

"Hit fair," said Colin, laughing; "none of your blows in the dark. I am an innocent man; besides, there are no interesting pathways in my way to cross," the young man added, with natural pathos; for, indeed, since the days of Matty Frankland and Alice, his opportunities on the whole in that particular had been small.

"It's grand when he does not lose his road himself," said Lauderdale. "That's an awfu' advantage on the part of the hills. They've nae responsibility, no being voluntary agents; but I've seen a man lose his ain way that had been a shadow on another man's road-or woman's, as you were saying. We're done with that now," said the philosopher; "the shadows are no so lingering in the morning-but I am real glad to be clear of it myself. You see, after a', we're no in Italy, though we're coming south. I dinna understand a country that makes you hide in the midday, and lose your time in a' the corners. Here a man can walk in the sun."

"Even in another man's sun," said Colin, "or woman's, according to what you have just been saying. But we will have enough of it to-day, before we get to our journey's end."

"Ay," said Lauderdale; "there's something awfu' unreasonable in this life, take it at the best. As for logic, I never was great on that point. The grand thing of a man is, that you never can tell what he'll do the next moment. I'm no denying the force of character. It's the only thing in this world that gives a kind of direction; but I wouldna even put my trust in character. I ken you very well, for example," he continued; "wonderful well, considering you're a human creature like myself. I

have a kind of idea what you would be likely to think on most subjects, and could very near run the risk of prophesying what you would say; but, when you turn that corner out of my sight, I ken no more what may be the next thing you'll do than if I had never heard your name. No, I'm no tired at this hour of the morning-but I've an awfu' objection to dust, and the road is as powdery as a mill. My intention is to take a seat on this brae and let that carriage pass."

"Wait a little, then; it comes on very slowly; there must be some invalid in it, for the horses look good enough," said Colin, and he turned his back to the carriage which was approaching, in order to survey the green slope, covered with trees and brushwood, upon which Lauderdale meant to rest. They were separated a little when the carriage came up, and neither of them paid much attention to it. Lauderdale was already half way up the slope, and Colin was standing by the side of the road, looking after him. The horses had quickened their pace at the last moment, and had passed before Colin could turn round to see who the travellers were; but at that moment, as the carriage rolled along behind him, he gave a start so violent that the stones under his feet seemed suddenly to get in his way and trip him up, and Lauderdale for his part came down from the brae with a long leap and strange exclamation. "What was that?" they said to each other, in the same breath, and paused for a moment, and looked into each other's faces, and listened. carriage went on faster, raising a cloud of dust, and nothing was to be heard except the sound of the horses' hoofs and the wheels. It was Colin that was the first to break the silence. He detached himself from among the stones and bushes, where he had got entangled in that moment of agitation, and sprang back again to the high road which lay before him, veiled in a cloud of dust. "It is simply absurd," said Colin. "Lauderdale, I cannot imagine what you mean; you are enough to drive a man mad. Some one gives a chance outcry in passing, and you make up your mind that it is- Good heavens! I never

The

knew such folly !" cried the young man. He took off his hat without knowing it, and thrust his hair up over his forehead, and made an effort to take courage and regain his composure as he took breath. But it was very clear that Lauderdale had nothing to do with Colin's excitement. He had himself heard the cry, and felt in his heart that it was no imagination. As he stood there in his pretended indignation the impulse of flight came upon him-a certain terror, which he could not explain nor comprehend, came over him.

There was not a man in existence before whom he would have flown; but that little cry of recognition took away all his courage. He did not feel in himself the strength to go forward, to venture upon a possible meeting. The blood which had rushed to his face for the first moment seemed to go back upon his heart and stifle it. He had made a step or two forward without thinking; but then he arrested himself, and wavered, and looked upon the road which lay quite tranquil behind him in the shadow of the hills. It seemed to him for the moment as if his only safety was in flight.

As for Lauderdale, it took him all the time which Colin had occupied in these thoughts to get down from his elevation and return to his friend's side. He for his part was animated and eager. "This is no her country," said Lauderdale; "she's a traveller, as we are. The carriage will stop at our next stage, but there's no time to be lost ;" and as he said these words he resumed his march with his long steady step without remarking the hesitation of Colin or what he had said. The young man himself felt that saving impulse fail him after the first minute. Afterwards, all the secondary motives came into his mind, and urged him to go on. Had he allowed that he was afraid to meet or to renew his relationships with Alice Meredith, supposing that by any extraordinary chance this should be she, it would be to betray the secret which he had guarded so long, and to betray himself; and he knew no reason that he could give for such a cowardly retreat. He could not say, "If I see her again, and find that she has been

thinking of me, I shall be compelled to carry out my original mistake, and give up my brighter hopes,"-for no one knew that he had made any mistake, or that she was not to his eyes the type of all that was dearest in woman. "The chances are that it is all a piece of folly -a deception of the senses," he said to himself instead-"something like what people have when they think they see ghosts. We have talked of her, and I have dreamed of her, and now, to be sure, necessity requires that I should hear her. It should have been seeing, to make all perfect;" and, after that little piece of self-contempt, he went on again with Lauderdale without making any objection. The dust which had been raised by the carriage came towards them like a moving pillar; but the carriage itself went rapidly on and turned the corner and went out of sight. then Colin did his best to comfort and strengthen himself by other means.

And

"Don't put yourself out of breath,” he said to Lauderdale; 66 the whole thing is quite explainable. That absurd imagination of yours yesterday has got into both our heads. I don't mind saying I dreamt of it all last night. Anything so wild was never put into a novel. It's an optical illusion, or, rather I should say, it's an ocular illusion, Things don't happen in real life in this kind of promiscuous way. Don't walk so quick and put yourself out of breath.”

"Did you no hear?" said Lauderdale. "If you hadna heard I could understand. As for me, I canna say but what I saw as well. I'm no minding at this moment about my breath."

"What did you see?" cried Colin, with a sudden thrill at his heart.

"I'll no say it was her," said Lauderdale; "no but what I am as sure as I am of life that she was there. I saw something white laid back in the carriage, somebody that was ill; it might be her or it might be another. I've an awfu' strong opinion that it was her. It's been borne in on my mind that she was ill and wearying. We mightna ken her, but she kent you and me."

"What you say makes it more and more unlikely," said Colin. "I confess

that I was a little excited myself by those dreams and stuff; but nothing could be more improbable than that she should recognise you and me. Bah! it is absurd to be talking of her in this ridiculous way, as if we had the slightest reason to suppose it was her. Any little movement might make a sick lady cry out; and, as for recognising a voice at such a distance of time !-All this makes me feel like a fool," said Colin. "I am more disposed to go back than to go

on.

I wish you would dismiss that nonsense from your thoughts."

"If I was to do that same, do you think you could join me?" said Lauderdale. "There's voices I would ken after thirty years instead of after three; and I'm no likely to forget the bit English tone of it. I'm a wee slow about some things, and I'll no pretend to fathom your meaning; but, whether its daft-like or no, this I'm sure of, that if you make up to that carriage that's away out of our sight at this moment, you'll find Alice Meredith there."

"I don't believe anything of the kind. Your imagination has deceived you," said Colin, and they went on for a long time in silence; but at the bottom of his heart Colin felt that his own imagination had not deceived him. The only thing that had deceived him was that foolish feeling of liberty, that sense that he had escaped fate, and that the rash engagements of his youth were to have no consequences, into which he had deluded himself for some time past. Even while he professed his utter disbelief in this encounter, he was asking himself how in his changed circumstances he could bear the old bridle, the rein upon his proud neck? If it had been a curb upon his freedom, even at the moment when he had formed it

if it had become a painful bondage afterwards while still the impression of Alice's gentle tenderness had not quite worn off his mind-what would it be now when he had emancipated himself from those soft prejudices of recollection, and when he had acknowledged so fully to himself that his heart never had been really touched? He marched on by Lauderdale's No. 65.-VOL. XI.

side, and paid no attention to what his friend said to him; and nothing could be more difficult to describe than the state of Colin's mind during this walk. Perhaps the only right thing, the only sensible thing, he could have done in the circumstances would have been to turn back and decline altogether this reawakening of the past. But then at six-and-twenty the mind is still so adverse to turning back, and has so much confidence in its own power of surmounting difficulty, and in its good star, and in the favour and assistance of all powers and influences in heaven and earth; and then his pride was up in arms against such a mode of extricating himself from the apparent difficulty, and all the delicacy of his nature revolted from the idea of thus throwing the wrong and humiliation upon the woman, upon Alice, a creature who had loved him and trusted him, and whom he had never owned he did not love. Underneath all these complications there was, to be sure, a faint, sustaining hope that an encounter of this kind was incredible, and that it might turn out not to be Alice at all, and that all these fears and embarrassments might come to nothing. With all this in his mind he marched on, feeling the sweet air and fresh winds and sunshine to be all so many spectators accompanying him perhaps to the turning-point of his life, where, for all he knew, things might go against him, and his wings be clipped and his future limited for ever and ever. Perhaps some of Colin's friends may think that he exhibited great weakness of mind on this occasion, as, indeed, it is certain that there are many people who believe with some reason that it is next thing to a sin to put honour in the place of love, or to give to constancy the rights of passion. But then, whatever a man's principles may be, it is his character in most cases that carries the day. Every man must act according to his own nature, as says the Arabian

sage.

Sir Bayard, even, thinking it all over, might not approve of himself, and might see a great deal of folly in what he was doing; but, as for a man's

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