to modify his opinion of Ethel Dallison. He had undoubtedly misjudged her; perhaps she was even justified in accusing him of having insulted her. Her motives for causing a breach between him and Monica, (she had virtually pleaded guilty to that indictment), had not been so wanton and cynical as he had assumed. But what, in addition to the wish, for which he gave her credit, to release her friend from an ill-considered pledge, had her motives really been? There was an obvious explanation-true or untrue-and at the thought of it his heart began to thump against his ribs again. If, after all, she should be guided into embracing the true faith, a very different complexion would be put upon ideas which had hitherto appeared fantastic, sinful, impossible. Never from the outset had he felt certain whether he loved or hated Ethel Dallison; but then he had never really known her until now. Such was the conclusion at which he seriously arrived, and his ready adoption of it gives, it must be owned, the measure of his gullibility. All that can be said for him is that the best people in the world are the most easily deceived.

Something of the sort was said to him, within a quarter of an hour, by that astute student of mankind Humphry Trenchard; for on his homeward road he could not withstand an impulse to turn aside at Glen Cottage and confess what he had been about. Old Humphry, who had also been out for a drive and who was now toasting his toes comfortably before a fire of blazing logs, heard him out without interruption and, when he had made an end of speaking, remarked halflaughingly, half-sorrowfully :

"My poor Nigel, simple, loyal natures like yours are the salt of the earth; yet you make me doubt at times whether you would not be more at home in the cloister

than in this rough world. To call at Lannowe was very well; to establish a modus vivendi with those good people, whom you are bound to meet at every turn and with whom strained relations would be most uncomfortable, was still better; but to let yourself be talked over by Miss Dallison was-what can I call it without affronting you?"

"Call it anything you like," said Nigel.

"Then I will make so bold as to call it ingenuous of you. You actually believe, then, that she wishes to be received into the Church of Rome?"

"Yes, that is my belief. There would be nothing extraordinary in her having such a wish."

"I agree with you that her wish would not be extraordinary if your uncle's will had not been so extraordinary; but I don't seem to see Miss Dallison becoming a Roman Catholic with the knowledge that she would ipso facto disinherit her children."

"Her children?"

"My dear boy, we are all by ourselves, so why should we waste time in seeking synonyms for spades? The plain truth is that you would like to make her your wife. Now isn't that the plain truth?”

"I don't know," was Nigel's truthful reply.

"Then I know-which for purposes of argument will do as well, perhaps. I am not equally sure that she would like to have you for her husband, although what you have been telling me seems to point that way; but I am positive that, if she intends to marry you, she will take care that marriage shall precede conversion."

"That would be a total impossibility," said Nigel. "Would it? I should hesitate myself to use the word impossibility where women are concerned, and she is a clever woman. You will say, no doubt, that I am a suspicious, evil-minded old man."

"No; only I don't think you quite realise what religion means to us."

"If I don't," returned Mr. Trenchard, with a shrug of his shoulders and a smile, "it is not for want of having received some object lessons from you. I realise, for instance, that you are at least as much in love with the Order of Saint Benedict as you are with Miss Dallison, and for the life of me I can't say which of the two attachments strikes me as the more deplorable! Must it be the one or the other?"

"I don't know," answered Nigel for the second time. "And so you come to me-of all helpless people !for a hint. Suppose I were to say, let it be neither?"

"I want to do my duty," Nigel declared, after a pause. "I am sure you do, my dear fellow, and I want to do mine. That is why I have two earnest entreaties to make of you. Firstly, don't be inveigled into marrying a Protestant."

"I have told you already that such a thing could not happen. I will promise, if you like, never to do such a thing."

་

Secondly, don't break my heart by burying yourself in a monastery. You can't need to be told how fond I am of you personally, Nigel, and you may have guessed that I have a sort of paternal fondness for the estate, which you have allowed me to give you some little assistance in managing. I couldn't bear to see it pass into the hands of a stranger now, and you are aware that your uncle is debarred from handing it over to one of his own family."

"I am afraid," said Nigel, "that I cannot make any definite promise as to that; I can only repeat that I wish to do my duty." He added, after a rather long interval of silence, "You are mistaken about Miss Dallison."

"Let us hope so," returned old Humphry drily.

CHAPTER XVII

A FAIR AFTERNOON'S WORK

NE of those sudden, inexplicable thaws which put weather-prophets out of countenance occurred during the night that followed Nigel's visit to Lannowe and, accompanied by a deluge of rain, made short work of snow and ice. There was joy in many a country house the next morning, and nowhere more than at Knaresby, where hunting was in far greater favour than skating or sleighing. It is true that Mr. Scarth, ever a pessimist, refused to associate himself with the cheerful anticipations of the young people. He tapped the barometer, which had indeed dropped considerably, but which now remained stationary, looked out of the window, shook his head and said:

"This is not a true change; we shall have the frost back worse than ever before sunset, you'll see. I am sorry for you, Cuthbert, but you may as well make up your mind that no foxes will be broken up in your presence until next season."

Cuthbert was not particularly sorry for himself. He would have liked, of course, to have a few days with the hounds, but he had discovered that he liked a few days with Bessie still better, and he could not but notice that since he had made certain observations to her respecting Miss Dallison Bessie had become much more like her old friendly self. Whether friendliness was all that he

asked of her might be another question; but it was at least better than sarcasm-a weapon which, without special disparagement of Miss Scarth, may be said to be generally ill-adapted for feminine manipulation.

What was from various points of view a little unfortunate was that Ethel, tempted by the disappearance of the snow, walked in soon after luncheon, having tramped all the way from Lannowe, as she proudly announced, to shake hands with her friends at Knaresby. She was entitled to call them her friends; for an intimacy had sprung up between her and them during the summer, and notes had been exchanged since her return to Yorkshire, and if two members of the party were not precisely overjoyed to see her, they had the good manners to disguise their feelings. One of them, perhaps, may even have disguised his feelings a shade too well to give complete satisfaction to the other. It is so difficult to give satisfaction all round!

Miss Dallison, it seemed, had found none in looking on at the preparations for the coming festival with which her entertainers at Lannowe were occupied.

"They are decorating the chapel and setting up a crêche, with life-size figures round it, and I don't know what else," she said. "They wouldn't allow me to help —it would have been a sort of desecration if I had, I suppose and they evidently didn't want me; so I said I should walk over here."

"Where I hope you know that you are always wanted, my dear," said good-natured Mrs. Scarth. They ought not to have let you trudge through the mud and slush, though. One of the boys will drive you back or perhaps Cuthbert would like to offer his services."

Cuthbert could do no less than make response to an appeal so direct. He did not do much more; yet his