`Tom, how is it you are come home? Is there anything the matter?' Maggie spoke in a low tremulous voice.

`I'm come to walk with you to the Red Deeps and meet Philip Wakem,' said Tom, the central fold in his brow which had become habitual with him, deepening as he spoke.

Maggie stood helpless - pale and cold. By some means, then, Tom knew everything. At last, she said, `I'm not going,' and turned round.

`Yes, you are; but I want to speak to you first. Where is my father?'

`Out on horseback.'

`And my mother?'

`In the yard, I think, with the poultry.'

`I can go in, then, without her seeing me?'

They walked in together, and Tom entering the parlour, said to Maggie, `Come in here.'

She obeyed, and he closed the door behind her.

`Now, Maggie, tell me this instant everything that has passed between you and Philip Wakem.'

`Does my father know anything?' said Maggie, still trembling.

`No,' said Tom, indignantly. `But he shall know, if you attempt to use deceit towards me any further.'

`I don't wish to use deceit,' said Maggie, flushing into resentment at hearing this word applied to her conduct.

`Tell me the whole truth then.'

`Perhaps you know it.'

`Never mind whether I know it or not. Tell me exactly what has happened, or my father shall know everything.'

`I tell it for my father's sake, then.'

`Yes, it becomes you to profess affection for your father, when you have despised his strongest feelings.'

`You never do wrong, Tom,' said Maggie, tauntingly.

`Not if I know it,' answered Tom, with proud sincerity. `But I have nothing to say to you, beyound this: tell me what has passed between you and Philip Wakem. When did you first meet him in the Red Deeps?'

`A year ago,' said Maggie, quietly. Tom's severity gave her a certain fund of defiance, and kept her sense of error in abeyance. `You need ask me no more questions. We have been friends a year. We have met and walked together often. He has lent me books.'

`Is that all?' said Tom, looking straight at her with his frown.

Maggie paused a moment: then, determined to make an end of Tom's right to accuse her of deceit, she said, haughtily,

`No, not quite all. On Saturday he told me that he loved me - I didn't think of it before then - I had only thought of him as an old friend.'