Oh, my dear little cousin," cried Dick taking her hand in both his, you make me too miserable; is it not your own doing? Have not I implored you almost on my knees to give it up? Has my mother left anything unsaid to persuade you to make Holmedale your home? and you did nothing but go on with all that pretty nonsense of yours about being independent. How can a beautiful child like you, ever be independent? You must be looked after, and taken care of, wherever you go, and yet you preferred throwing yourself on the kindness of utter strangers, to remaining with your nearest of kin and leading the life of a princess with all of us for your slaves.' 64 now. 66 Dick, dear, I am almost sorry Sorry? well, then, not a step farther will we go! you shall go back with me! Oh, Nellie, Nellie, only say the word and back we go at once.' Impossible!" she said. Then, suddenly shaking her head, and smiling through irrepressible tears, she went on, 'They would sue me for breach of contract beside, being sorry that I came, does not make me wish to go back." "Does it not?" said Dick, releasing her hand, and turning away his face to conceal his disappointment. thing you ever did in your life," said Dick bitterly. He was a tall strapping fellow about thirty, with somewhat irregular features, his want of beauty redeemed by the honest frank expression of a well-shaped mouth, and wonderfully kindly eyes. He wasted the strong love of his heart on this bright fanciful girl who, being extremely romantic and with a gilded imagination, had yet all the want of sympathy of extreme youth. Sally Poor Dick! how fain would he have taken her away with him, back to the safe shelter of his own lovely old Berkshire farm, where, as he fondly imagined, everything existed to make the life of his young wife a Paradise; he was wealthy enough to make farming (to her at least) Arcadian, asking nothing more of her than to share his love for his magnificent Clydesdales, his grand shorthorns, not even aspiring to the smallest sympathy for the black Berkshire pigs, so precious as to be numbered as kings only expect to be. the Fourteenth and Betty the Twelfth were unique! Dick Gordon had not been brought up to do without sympathy; his mother, who lived with him, had one of those large loving natures that influence everything and every one with whom they come in contact. very clever woman also, capable, managing, full of tact. She also was very fond of Nellie Grey, the only child of her brother, and when at seventeen the little orphan was left all alone in her dingy London home, Mrs. Gordon hastened to bring her to Holmedale and be to her as loving and a thousand times more motherly than her own dead mother had been. A Nellie had been brought up in London; her father had been a fashionable London doctor, and had at one time made much money, but with affluence came imprudence; he speculated, hoping to treble what he possessed, and failed; when he died, nothing was left for Nellie, not even enough to pay for her black gowns. The girl's life had been a very happy, if somewhat neglected one; she had had masters for all the usual accomplishments, spoke French and German with facility, played the piano rather incorrectly, and sang charmingly; no one superintended her reading, and she read every novel that she could get hold offortunately those that her father's house contained were not harmful, but of a very romantic order, and Nellie's mind was full of castles in the air, wonderful ideal heroes, and strange adventures. Her first experience of real love in real life was her cousin Dick's attachment, which he concealed for a time so effectively that had she not been enlightened by her friend, the vicar's pretty daughter, she would never have found it out. Could anything be less romantic, more odiously commonplace than to marry such a man as Dick- -a man with such a close cropped head, such a thick rough mustache, and who was not in the least fond of poetry? Nellie hated Holmedale; she was horribly afraid of the horses and cows, always thought that Dick would be thrown when he went out hunting, and could not be got to like walks in the fields or ploughed land; she was a born cockney, and country life had no charms for her. When Mrs. Gordon realized that her son had really given away his heart's love to Nellie Grey, she felt as if her heart would break; no sorrow that she had endured herself seemed to her heavier than that of foreseeing the inevitable pain that must come to her boy; yet she said to him no word of remonstrance, she knew too well the utter uselessness of such a course; but she set herself to study Nellie's character, to try and develop her really excellent qualities, and to bring them to the surface. But poor little Nellie did not want to be taken au sérieux as yetshe wanted to wait and enjoy herself and dream of an ideal future, and escape from the deadly monotony of beautiful Holmedale. She found the opportunity at last. A friend of her early days, a Miss Graham, was a strongminded woman; she wrote to her frequently, urging her not to allow herself to become a dependent on her aunt's kindness, but to strike out a line for herself, gain her own bread, see something of the world. These letters, combined with her extreme longing for variety, made Nellie search the advertisement sheets of the Times daily, with a hope of finding something which would exactly meet her wishes. It came at last, a rather unusual advertisement, but which took her fancy : 'On demande une Institutrice anglaise, munie de bons renseignements, au pair; s'adresser à Madame la Harpe, Sauveterre.' Nellie did what was not right: she answered the advertisement, obtained recommedations from old friends London, and not till the whole thing was arranged did she tell her aunt. Mrs. Gordon was much disturbed, grieved and displeased with what she had done, but unable to resist the coaxing, pleading ways and kisses of the culprit. She consented to let her go, after satisfying herself by very careful inquiries that the French lady who advertised was all that could be wished, and she was not without a secret hope that Nellie might learn in the house of strangers to appreciate the happy home she was ready to sacrifice. Dick Gordon accompanied her on her journey, much to his own inconvenience, in the busy spring-tide of the year, but to the last he cherished a hope that she might repent and let him take her back again. The little carriage jingled on, crossing, one after another, long vine-covered low hills, always rising and falling with about the same unvaried view-now they passed through a village, now again dipped into a valley and up once more; vine-clad hills are more profitable than picturesque, the straight monotonous lines destroy the beauty of the landscape. Nellie grew paler and paler, and byand-by she put out a cold little hand for Dick to take and hold; she felt great comfort and strength in his warm, strong clasp, and she wanted comfort like a child, and sought for it without a thought of the cruel pain she was inflicting, for Dick, with the intuitive perception of his sympathetic nature, understood the silent appeal and took it for what it was worth. As the road rose over the last hill, and reached the end of the series, the hills stopped, and, as it were, rolled back to right and left, and they stood on a kind of high plateau, while a glorious view broke upon them. Nestled on the hillside lay Sauveterre, bounded in by a terrace-wall; far below, a deep valley fringed with trees, at the Neither of the travellers spoke for a Oh, Dick, is it not beautiful ?” But there was no time for thought; 66 CHAPTER II. would help her now as much as he could.. The coachman remounted his seat and drove off to the little inn, promising to send round a man with the boxes and small packages in a few moments, and anxious to lose none of the precious moments in which he wished to make himself acquainted as much as possible with his cousin's future home, Dick drew her quickly with him down the illpaved, dirty little street. The approach was unpromising, but ended in a small open court. The old house which was their destination stood in a beautiful situation on the walls, with a narrow terrace round it, bounded by a low parapet actually overhanging the valley and the river. The valley was half spanned by a very ancient bridge, the middle arches of which had long been swept away, the rest remained, all clothed with ivy and other luxuriant vegetation. In the far distance the wonderful mountains. It would difficult to find a more lovely situation. be The old house was large and picturesque, carrying on each end the tourelles, indispensable attributes of noblesse, It was washed all over with yellow-wash of a warm color, concealing the thick stone walls, in many places The nar "It is very pretty, Nellie! Come, dear! don't be so frightened!" said Dick, patting her hand, as he rang the bell. Where do Monsieur and Made- from three to four feet thick. moiselle wish to descend ?" row terrace was bright with flowers in "At the Maison de Mabendie, great earthen jars. Madame la Harpe," answered Dick. Here we are, Monsieur," and the little carriage drew up suddenly before a narrow little street. Monsieur and Mademoiselle must get out here, go along the little street, turn to the left, and before them they will see the Maison de Mabendie. Does Monsieur propose to return to Orthez to-night ?" 66 The door flew open, and with a kind of rush, it seemed as if the whole family of La Harpe poured into the courtyard. Outstretched hands greeted the newcomers, and a torrent of welcoming words. It seemed as if every face there photographed itself on Dick Gordon's brain, so great was the tension. Monsieur and Madame La Harpe were both short, both perfectly round. Madame seemed to roll rather than walk, bound rather than turn; very active, very voluble, and in a black gown flashing with jet beads. Mademoiselle la Harpe, Amélie, was just what her mother must have been at her age, short, plump, rather pretty with a profusion of frizzy black hair, and too large a face, all épanouie with good-nature. Monsieur Jean the eldest son, and his wife, were of a somewhat different type. Monsieur Jean, avocat, thin, pale, bald, and studious. As for Madame Jean, her face was as the face of a pitying saint-so sweet, so sad, and so worn. Behind stood two bonnes, with rosy faces and bright-colored handkerchiefs, picturesquely tying up their black hair. It seemed as if they could not make enough of Nellie. They pressed her cousin to stay, but he was obliged to refuse, his presence was urgently wanted at home. They then, all of them, despatched the bonnes to prepare some refreshment for him before his departure, and conducted them into the large, cool salon. Time was going, flying very fast. Dick at last boldly determined that no more must be lost. He advanced to Monsieur la Harpe and asked to speak to him in private. But Madame la Harpe had no intention of being excluded from the interview, and she solemnly led the way into another room, followed meekly by her lord and the tall Englishman, who seemed to them almost colossal. haps Monsieur intends to marry her himself; it is his right, and as her only male relative, his bounden duty; of course, if he should desire it, I also will do my best.' A confused sense came flitting over Dick's bewildered mind that, like Boaz, as nearest of kin, he had a solemn duty to perform in espousing his cousin ; then the absurdity of the notion crossed him, and he could hardly help smiling. In England, he said it is our habit to let young ladies please themselves about marrying." That is a very strange and reprehensible custom,' said Madame la Harpe severely. Madame est servie," said a maid at the door. 64 66 66 Ah, and there is so little time, and farewells to be said and all!" cried the good father. Monsieur," with another portentous slap on the breast, you may rest contented, we will take every care of our sacred trust. You may put every confidence in me. "I am sure I can!" said Dick heartily. He read something straightforward and honest in the little man's black, bead-like eyes. Monsieur la Harpe rose and bowed profoundly, Dick returned the bow; Madame la Harpe courtesied, and Dick repeated his salutation. It was like the seal of some solemn compact. Then she led the way to the dining-room. If Dick Gordon's healthy English appetite had looked for cold beef, it looked in vain. The repast consisted of a vast omelette salad, bread and fruit, and excellent vin ordinaire. Nellie could not eat a mouthful; her eyes were fixed on her cousin as if she would never take them off. The time was going so fast. Dick Gordon looked again at his watch. "I ought to start for the inn in five minutes, he said. He gave a quick look round at the whole assembled family his look ended imploringly on Madame Jean. A flash of sympathy passed between them. She rose. Let us go, my friends," she said. Our friends would wish to say their adieus in private; and little demoiselle Nellie must have many messages to send.' "You are quite right," cried all the kind-hearted family, who would never have thought about it themselves, and they all bustled out. Nellie waited till they were all gone, then she ran up to her cousin and hid her face on his shoulder. "Oh, Dick, dear Dick," she said. I have been so wicked, so ungrateful. I have never been half good enough to you, and now you are going away. Oh, Dick! say you forgive me; and give my dear, dear, dearest love to Aunt Mary. Forgive you, Nellie? Child, there is nothing to forgive. Nellie, I have never told you-I did not want you to know; but, darling, you are my own heart's love! Hush, hush; I only tell you that you may know that whenever you want a home or-or a friend, a brother or protector, I shall be waiting for you to welcome you, my little love, and ask nothing-nothing in return.' She was sobbing on his breast. There came a low knock at the door, and Madame Jean's soft voice : 46 Dick, Dick! kiss me," cried Nellie almost frantically, for her cousin had wrung her hands and was turning away. "Good-by, darling, good-by. "Dick, won't you kiss me?" she cried, putting her arms round his neck like a child. Then he stooped, and kissed her passionately. God bless you and help you, Nellie! Good-by." He went out. They were all waiting for him outside. How he got through all the salutations, bows, and farewells he could not tell. But it was over at last, and he was once more rapidly driving down the road to Orthez. Meanwhile Madame Jean stole quietly back to Nellie, and allowed her to sob out her grief and loneliness in her kind arms. CHAPTER III. In a very few days Nellie Grey was quite at home in the Maison de Mabendie, and now the spring days were lengthening, and the sudden summer of the South burst upon them in all its hot splendor. At first Amélie and Nellie, still some what shy of each other, worked well together, alternately at English and French, but by degrees their ardor for study somewhat waned, and as it grew hotter they grew more desultory. The life was very different to anything to which Nellie had been accustomed, but the facility with which she adapted herself to it was quite astonishing. Sometimes she wondered with a little start of dismay, what her Aunt Mary would have said if she had seen her in the mornings going about the house in a loose dressing gown of Pompadour print, with her hair not done, only rolled up over a comb. At first she felt very untidy, but all the others were the same, so she soon began to think it impossible to take the trouble of dressing herself before it was time for the twelve o'clock breakfast. The food at first seemed a little strange: meat was only to be had once a week at Sauveterre. Nobody expected it oftener-not the La Harpes, the wealthiest people in the little town; not the Marquis and his Parisienne wife, who came from Paris to spend the summer in their pretty, old château-nobody thought it necessary. The town was full of hens and chickens; eggs abounded, and formed the pièce de résistance at every meal. Then Jeannette, the cook, was so clever at all kinds of soups, and would go along the roads pulling little tufts of foliage out of the banks, from which she would produce a delicious maigre or a fresh salad that was quite astonishing. Nellie Grey was a Roman Catholic, as her mother had been before her. The church stood outside the town, and was not in any way remarkable, except for the beauty of the view. Indeed it was impossible to stir our of the streets without coming into sight of the distant Pyrenees, from early morning to late evening constantly varying in the color of their splendor. One of the prettiest spots was the little cemetery, lying on the side of the hill. Thither the two girls would walk every Sunday evening before the hour of the last service, the Salut. They accompanied Madame Jean, for in the little cemetery lay one of the secrets of her sadness-two baby graves side by side, their little mounds railed in with |