"How can we tell that, Miss Corny? How are we to know he did not go to be married? I fancy he did."

"Go to be married!" shrieked Miss Corny, in a passion, "he would not be such a fool. And to that fine lady-child! No; no."

"He has sent this to be put in the county journals," said Mr. Dill, holding forth a scrap of paper. "They are married, safe enough."

Miss Carlyle took it and held it before her: her hand was cold as ice, and shook as if with palsy.

"Married.—On the 1st inst., at Castle Marling, by the chaplain to the Earl of Mount Severn, Archibald Carlyle, Esquire, of East Lynne, to the Lady Isabel Mary Vane, only child of William, late Earl of Mount Severn."

Miss Carlyle tore the paper to atoms and scattered it. Mr. Dill afterwards made copies from memory, and sent them to the journal offices. But let that pass.

"I will never forgive him," she deliberately uttered," and I will never forgive or tolerate her. The senseless idiot! to go and marry Mount Severn's expensive daughter! a thing who goes to court in feathers and a tail-streaming out three yards behind her!"

"He is not an idiot, Miss Cornelia."

"He is worse; he is a wicked madman," she retorted, in a midway state between rage and tears. "He must have been stark staring mad to go and do it; and had I gathered an inkling of the project I would have taken out a commission of lunacy against him. Ay, you may stare, old Dill, but I would, as truly as I hope to have my sins forgiven. Where are they to live?"

"I expect they will live at East Lynne."

"What?" screamed Miss Corny. "Live at East Lynne, with the Carews! You are going mad too, I think."

"The negotiation with the Carews is off, Miss Cornelia. When Mr. Archibald returned from Castle Marling at Easter, he wrote to decline them. I saw the copy of the letter in the copying-book. I expect he had settled matters then with Lady Isabel, and had decided to keep East Lynne for himself."

Miss Carlyle's mouth had opened with consternation. Recovering partially, she rose from her seat, and, drawing herself to her full and majestic height, she advanced behind the astounded gentleman, seized the collar of his coat with both hands, and shook him for several minutes. Poor old Dill, short and slight, was as a puppet in her hands, and thought his breath had gone for ever.

"And I would have had out a lunacy commission for you also, you sly villain! You are in the plot: you have been aiding and abetting him: you knew as much of it as he did."

"I declare solemnly, to the Goodness that made me, I did not," gasped the ill-treated man, when he could gather speech. "I am as innocent as a baby, Miss Corny. When I got the letter just now in the office, you might have knocked me down with a feather."

"What has he gone and done it for? an expensive girl without a shilling! And how dared you be privy to the refusing of East Lynne to the Carews? You have abetted him. But he never can be fool enough to think of living there!"

"I was not privy to it, Miss Corny, before it was done. And if I had been?-I am only Mr. Archibald's servant. Had he not intended to take East Lynne for his own residence, he would not announce himself as Archibald Carlyle, of East Lynne. And he can well afford it, Miss Corny; you know he can; and he only takes up his suitable position in going to it," added the faithful clerk, soothingly. "And she is a sweet, pretty, lovable creature, though she is a noble lady."

"I hope his folly will come home to him!" was the wrathful rejoinder.

"The Fates forbid it!" cried old Dill.

"The Fates grant it !" echoed the exasperated Miss Corny. "Idiot! idiot! WHAT possessed him ?"

"Well, Miss Corny, I must hasten back to the office," concluded Mr. Dill, by way of terminating the conference. "And I am truly vexed, ma'am, that you should have fancied there was cause to fall out upon me."

"I shall do it again before the day's over, if you come in my way," hotly responded Miss Corny.

She sat down as soon as she was alone, and her face assumed a stony, rigid look. Her hands fell upon her knees, and Mr. Carlyle's letter dropped to the ground. After a while her features began to work, and she nodded her head, and lifted, now one hand, now the other, apparently debating various points in her own mind. By-and-by she rose, attired herself in her bonnet and shawl, and took the way to Justice Hare's. She felt that the news which would be poured out to West Lynne before the day was over, did reflect a slight upon herself: her much-loved brother had forsaken her, to take to himself one, nearer and dearer, and had done it in dissimulation: therefore she herself would be the first to proclaim it, far and wide.

Barbara was at the window in the usual sitting-room, as Miss Corny entered the Grove. A grim smile, in spite of her outraged feelings, crossed that lady's lips, when she thought of the blow about to be dealt out to Barbara: very clearly had she penetrated to the love of that young lady for Archibald; to her hopes of becoming his wife.

"Whatever brings Corny up here?" thought Barbara, who was looking very pretty in her summer attire, for the weather was unusually warm, and she had assumed it. "How are you?" she said, leaning from the window. "Would you believe it? the warm day has actually tempted mamma forth: papa is driving her to Lynneborough. Come straight in; the hall door is open."

Miss Carlyle came in, without answering; and, sitting herself upon a chair, emitted a few dismal groans, by way of preliminary.

Barbara turned to her quickly. "Are you ill? Has anything upset

you?"

"Upset me! you may say that," ejaculated Miss Corny, in wrath. "It has turned my heart and my feelings inside out. What do you say? Wine? Nonsense! don't talk of wine to me. A heavy misfortune has befallen us, Barbara. Archibald"Oh!

Upon Archibald!" interrupted Barbara, in her quick alarm. some accident has happened to him-to the railway train! Perhaps he -he-has got his legs broken!"

"I wish to my heart he had!" warmly returned Miss Corny. "He and his legs are all right, more's the pity! It is worse than that, Barbara."

Barbara ran over various disasters in her mind, and knowing the bent of Miss Carlyle's disposition, began to refer to some pecuniary loss. Perhaps it is about East Lynne," hazarded she. "The Carews may not be coming to it."

66

"No, they are not coming to it," was the tart retort. "Somebody else is, though: my wise brother. Archibald has gone and made a fool of himself, Barbara, and now he is coming home to live at East Lynne."

Though there was much that was unintelligible to Barbara in this, she could not suppress the flush of gratification that rose to her cheek and dyed it with blushes. She had seen herself mistress of East Lynne in some of her brightest dreams. "You are going to be taken down a notch or two, my lady," thought the clear-sighted Miss Carlyle. "The news fell upon me this morning like a thunderbolt," she said, aloud: "Old Dill brought it to me. I shook him for his pains."

"Shook old Dill!" reiterated the wondering Barbara.

"I shook him till my arms ached: he won't forget it in a hurry. He has been abetting Archibald in his wickedness; concealing things from me that he ought to have come in and declared; and I am not sure that I can't have the two indicted for conspiracy."

Barbara sat, all amazement; without the faintest idea of what Miss Corny could be driving at.

"You remember that child, Mount Severn's daughter? I think I see her now, coming into the concert-room, in her white robes, and her jewels, and her flowing hair, looking like a young princess in a fairy-tale-all very well for her, for what she is, but not for us."

"What of her?" uttered Barbara.

"Archibald has married her."

In spite of Barbara's full consciousness that she was before the penetrating eyes of Miss Corny, and in spite of her own efforts for calmness, every feature in her face turned of a ghastly whiteness. But, like Miss Carlyle had at first done, she took refuge in disbelief.

"It is not true, Cornelia."

"It is quite true. They were married yesterday at Castle Marling, by Lord Mount Severn's chaplain. Had I known it then, and could have got there, I might have contrived to part them, though the Church ceremony had passed: I should have tried. But," added the plain-speaking Miss Corny, "yesterday was one thing, and to day's another; and of course nothing can be done now."

"Excuse me an instant," gasped Barbara, in a low tone, "I forgot to give an order mamma left for the servants."

An order for the servants! She swiftly passed up-stairs to her own room, and flung herself down on its floor in utter anguish. The past had cleared itself of its mists; the scales that were before Barbara's eyes had fallen from them. She saw now that while she had cherished false and delusive hopes, in her almost idolatrous passion for Archibald Carlyle, she had never been cared for by him. Even the previous night she had lain awake some of its first hours, indulging dreams of the sweetest phantasy-and that was the night of his wedding-day! With a sharp wail

of despair, Barbara flung her arms up and closed her aching eyes: she knew that from that hour her life's sunshine had departed.

The cry had been louder than she heeded, and one of the maids, who was outside the door, opened it gently and looked in. There lay Barbara, and there was no mistaking that she lay in dire anguish; not of body, but of mind. The servant judged it an inopportune moment to intrude, and quietly reclosed the door.

Barbara heard the click of the latch, and it recalled her to herself; recalled her to reality; to the necessity of outwardly surmounting the distress at the present moment. She rose up, drank a glass of water, mechanically smoothed her hair and her brow, so contracted with pain, and forced her manner to calmness.

"Married to another! married to another!" she moaned, as she went down the stairs, "and, that other, her! Oh, fortitude! oh, dissimulation! at least come to my aid before his all-seeing sister!"

There was actually a smile on her face as she entered the room. Miss Carlyle broke upon her grievance again without delay, as if to compensate for the few minutes' imposed silence.

"As sure as that we are living here, I would have tried for a commission of lunacy against him, had I known this, and so I told Dill. Better have confined him as a harmless lunatic for a couple of years, than suffer him to go free and obtain his fling in this mad manner. I never thought he would marry: I have warned him against it ever since he was in leading-strings.

"It is an unsuitable match," said Barbara.

"It is just as suitable as Beauty and the Beast in the children's story. She, a high-born beauty, brought up to revel in expense, in jewels, in feasts, in show; and he, a—a—a—dull bear of a lawyer, like the beast in the tale."

Had Barbara been less miserable, she would have laughed outright. Miss Carlyle continued:

"I have taken my resolution. I go to East Lynne to-morrow, and discharge those five dandies of servants. I was up there on Saturday, and there were all three of my damsels cocketed up in fine mousseline-de-laine gowns, with peach bows in their caps, and the men in striped jackets, playing at footmen. Had I known, then, they were Archibald's servants, and not hired for the Carews!"

Barbara said nothing.

"I shall go up and dismiss the lot, and remove myself and servants to East Lynne, and let my own house furnished. Expenses will be high enough with her extravagant habits, too high to keep on two households. And a fine sort of household Archibald would have of it at East Lynne, with that ignorant baby, befrilled, and bejewelled, and becurled, to direct it."

"But will she like that?"

"If she does not like it, she can lump it," replied Miss Carlyle. "And, now that I have told you the news, Barbara, I am going back: and I had almost as soon have had to tell you that he was put into his coffin." "Are you sure you are not jealous?" asked Barbara, some uncontrollable impulse prompting her to say it.

"Perhaps I am," returned Miss Carlyle, with asperity. "Perhaps, had

you brought up a lad as I have brought up Archibald, and loved nothing else in the world, far or near, you would be jealous, when you found him discarding you with contemptuous indifference, and taking a young wife to his bosom, to be more to him than you had been."

III.

THE EARL'S ASTONISHMENT.

THE announcement of the marriage in the newspapers was the first intimation of it Lord Mount Severn received. He was little less thunderstruck than Miss Corny, and came steaming to England the same day, thereby missing his wife's letter, which gave her version of the affair. He met Mr. Carlyle and Lady Isabel in London, where they were staying, at one of the West-end hotels: only for a day or two, however, for they were going farther. Isabel was alone when the earl was announced.

"What is the meaning of this, Isabel?" began he, without the circumlocution of greeting. "You are married!"

"Yes," she answered, with her pretty, innocent blush. ago."

"Some days

"And to Carlyle the lawyer! How did it come about?" Isabel began to think how it did come about, sufficiently to give a clear answer. "He asked me," she said, "and I accepted him. He came to Castle Marling at Easter, and asked me then. I was very much surprised."

The earl looked at her attentively. "Why was I kept in ignorance of this, Isabel?"

"I did not know you were kept in ignorance of it. Mr. Carlyle wrote to you, as did Lady Mount Severn."

Lord Mount Severn was as a man in the dark, and looked like it. "I suppose this comes," soliloquised he aloud, "of your father's having allowed the gentleman to dance daily attendance at East Lynne. And so you fell in love with him.”

"Indeed no," answered she, in an amused tone. "I never thought of such a thing as falling in love with Mr. Carlyle."

"Then don't you love him?" abruptly asked the earl.

"No," she whispered, timidly. "But I like him much-oh, very much. And he is so good to me!"

The earl stroked his chin, and mused. Isabel had destroyed the only reasonable conclusion he had been able to come to, as to the motives for the hasty marriage. "If you do not love Mr. Carlyle, how comes it that you are so wise in the distinction between liking' and 'love?' It cannot be that you love anybody else!"

The question told home, and Isabel turned crimson. "I shall love my husband in time," was all she answered, as she bent her head, and played nervously with her watch-chain.

"My poor child!" involuntarily exclaimed the earl. But he was one who liked to fathom the depth of everything. "Who has been staying at Castle Marling since I left?" he asked, sharply.

"Mrs. Levison came down."

"I alluded to gentlemen-young men."