folding it up as she proceeded, `but perhaps you did not know that she is now gone back to him again, and that a perfect reconciliation has taken place between them? Only think,' she continued, turning to the confounded Rose, `what a fool the man must be!'

`And who gave you this piece of intelligence, Miss Eliza?' said I, interrupting my sister's exclamations.

`I had it from a very authentic source, sir.'

`From whom, may I ask?'

`From one of the servants at Woodford.'

`Oh! I was not aware that you were on such intimate terms with Mr. Lawrence's household.'

`It was not from the man himself, that I heard it; but he told it in confidence to our maid Sarah, and Sarah told it to me.'

`In confidence, I suppose; and you tell it in confidence to us; but I can tell you that it is but a lame story after all, and scarcely one half of it true.'

While I spoke, I completed the sealing and direction of my letters, with a somewhat unsteady hand, in spite of all my efforts to retain composure, and in spite of my firm conviction that the story was a lame one--that the supposed Mrs. Graham, most certainly, had not voluntarily gone back to her husband, or dreamt of a reconciliation. Most likely, she was gone away, and the tale-bearing servant, not knowing what was become of her, had conjectured that such was the case, and our fair visitor had detailed it as a certainty, delighted with such an opportunity of tormenting me. But it was possible--rarely possible, that some one might have betrayed her, and she had been taken away by force. Determined to know the worst, I hastily pocketed my two letters, and muttering something about being too late for the post, left the room, rushed into the yard and vociferously called for my horse. No one being there, I dragged him out of the stable myself, strapped the saddle on to his back and the bridle on to his head, mounted, and speedily galloped away to Woodford. I found its owner pensively strolling in the grounds.

`Is your sister gone?' were my first words as I grasped his hand, instead of the usual enquiry after his health.

`Yes; she's gone,' was his answer, so calmly spoken, that my terror was at once removed.

`I suppose I mayn't know where she is?' said I, as I did mounted and relinquished my horse to the gardener, who, being the only servant within call, had been summoned by his master, from his employment of raking up the dead leaves on the lawn, to take him to the stables.

My companion gravely took my arm, and leading me away to the garden, thus answered my question:--

`She is at Grassdale Manor, in --hire.'

`Where?' cried I, with a convulsive start.

`At Grassdale Manor.'

`How was it?' I gasped. `Who betrayed her?'

`She went of her own accord.'

`Impossible, Lawrence!! She could not be so frantic!' exclaimed I, vehemently grasping his arm, as if to force him to unsay those hateful words.