"I shall.” “ But our father, ourselves—Oh, Maisie, think!”

" I do think, but my pity is for Horace Bertie, Charlie, and my murdered George. My vengeance is Mark Boyd’s.” " You will cover our heads with shame. You ”

' " It seems to me that that, according to you, is our position already. No, my work shall be to clear away every scrap of it, so that we may take our right position again, Horace Bertie be restored, and that horrid

Mark Boyd brought to the justice he de serves:**

“You will sacrifice our brother.”

“ I shall exculpato him, you’ll seo. But I promise you 1 will act warily. You need uot groan in that hopeless way. I will first see Charlie, and ascertain how far ho is cognisant of the matter.” u As if he will enlighten you.”

“ He’ll have to do so. Stay, now I come to think of it, there is mention of Mark Boyd in Hilda Cranford’s letter. Fancy his getting an invitation to their beautiful place! I don’t know how he does it. I supposo he imposes himself on others as ho did on Charlie, who was simply infatuated with him. Let me seo what she says.” Maisie produced a voluminous letter out of her pocket and read for some time. “ I can’t find it. It will be nearer the end,” she said. “Ah, here it is! Oh, I did not see this —just listen to his audacity! “‘Milner Cheetham arrived yesterday, and who do you think he brought with him ? —Mark Boyd, an old admirer of yours, my dear. I expect he found out how tho land lay between Charlie and me, because he did nothing for two hours yes terday, during tho gentlemen’s absence, but sing your praises. lam afraid I grew rather sick of the subject, because, some how —now don’t be offended —I don't care for Mr Boyd. His countenance does not strike me as true. Moreover, Maisie, he is no fit match for you—ho is only a village apothecary’s son, Fanny Clarence says, and she knows everybody’s pedigree. Inde-' pendontly of that, thero is a greater reason —Charlie does not like him 1’ ”

“What!” exclaimed Roy, “does Mis 3 Cranford say that ?” “Can’t you listen without interrupting?” said Maisie, testily. “I am reading ver batim what she writes. 