serves his fate. He did what no admiral in command of a fleet, or general in command of an army, ought to do put himself too much into the hands of an inferior officer. But why is Captain Wells included in the reproof and its consequences, whose sole offence appears to have been, that he conveyed to the Admiral the message sent by the Staff Commander, and was the medium through whom the answer was returned? My Lords, there is reason to suspect, were looking, when the minute was drawn, to something beyond the immediate causes of it. Nobody will say of them now, that there is any lack of vigour in the administration. And in the admiration excited by their mode of dealing with one mishap, the blame that attaches to them in connection with another will perhaps be forgotten. At all events, it is a good preparation for such inquiry as may be instituted into the case of the Megæra, that my Lords have pronounced sentence upon all concerned in the case of the Agincourt with unexampled promptitude and severity.

But it is not through great mishaps like this that the Navy is losing that hold upon the confidence of the English people which, up to the present time, it had. The Service, like the Army, is dissatisfied with its rulers; and no public department, whether it be military or civil, ever worked with credit to itself, or to the advantage of the country, in which the members of the profession were dissatisfied with their superiors. Nor is this all. We are spending enormous sums in the construction of vessels which they who are to man them have learned to distrust, and can hardly say that we have afloat cruisers enough to protect our commerce were it assailed even in the Channel. And then the frightful sums demanded from us in the way of estimates. Six

teen millions for an Army which cannot march, and ten millions for a Navy which cannot swim! Verily such are the blessings which England derives from having Mr Gladstone First Lord of the Treasury, and a Cabinet of Liberal statesmen to support him.

We have left ourselves little room to speak either of the Chancellor of the Exchequer or of the great man from whose inspiration the Government and the House of Commons are believed to take their tone. Nor, indeed, is this much to be regretted. Mr Lowe, since the failure of his unlucky Budget, has been wonderfully quiet throughout the Session. Not a word has he said in defence of the Ballot Bill, or in vindication of that astounding resort to the prerogative, to which, however, he must have been a consenting party. If he put an extinguisher on the farthing rushlight with which Mr Cardwell had hoped to astonish Germany, he has our hearty approval of the proceeding. Thirty thousand men, dragging tents and ambulances after them, and perambulating through Berkshire at the cost of a guinea a-head per day, were not likely to raise our reputation as military administrators either in Germany or France. And Mr Lowe, if he really did refuse to supply the means for such an egregious act of folly, did well. But Mr Lowe did better by his plain speaking at the Lord Mayor's table. He made very short work there of the excuses of his chief for a Session absolutely wasted; and we honour him for the candour with which he told his version of the tale. The truth is, that we entertain a hankering kindness for the right honourable gentleman. We cannot forget that of all the speeches spoken against Lord Russell's stupid Reform Bill his were the most able; and that, had it pleased others than he

to stick to that text, we might still have been living under the modest régime of the £10 householders. Mr Lowe has really no business where he is. He may hate the Church of England and all Churches as cordially as if he were not a clergyman's son; but at least he makes no pretence to the contrary, and is just as much opposed to Ultramontanism, both theological and political, as we are ourselves. It was a pity that he made such a fool of himself at the opening of the Session; but Homer sometimes nods. He will separate from his present leader ere very many moons fill and wane, or we are much mistaken.

And now one word of Mr Gladstone. Let us express the hope that he is satisfied with himself, and with the results of his policy. Ireland grows day by day more irrepressible under his hands. For one Repealer that shouted for self-government three years ago we have now twenty. Arms are still stolen, only it is from barracks and military stores that the plunderers now take them; and the wild justice of revenge goes on-shooting down notice - servers, land - jobbers, and policemen merrily. What could our great statesman desire more? He may have deceived his Sovereign, and led her to do the deed, which, had she heard the truth, never would have been tolerated. He may command the heir- apparent to show himself in Dublin, just as the country is ripe for an extraordinary display of disloyalty. But he must

accept in exchange for the first act a vote of censure from one House of Parliament, which the other, servile as it has heretofore shown itself to be, declines to balance by a vote of confidence; and as to the last, the indignant cry that now rises both from the north and from the south, can hardly fail of convincing even him that he has sacrificed his own character as a public man, and placed the wellbeing of his country in jeopardy, only that he may be taught how vain is the pursuit of fame and public honours to him who pursues that phantom by a tortuous

course.

Mr Gladstone, we perceive, is preparing for a fresh agitation. The Liberal party, which the Ballot Bill had reunited, has fallen asunder again under the combined influence of faction in regard to that matter, and an unwise exercise of the prerogative. Ministers did not venture, with this consciousness oppressing them, to meet and rejoice as their predecessors used to do at Greenwich. But their chief is not the man to throw up his cards if by any means he sees the remotest chance of playing them a little longer. We shall hear loud cries raised this recess about redistribution of seats in the House of Commons, and radical reform in the House of Lords. Will the country be cajoled by them into giving back its confidence to one who has proved himself incapable? We think not. The end of the Gladstone Administration is not far off.

THE next few days passed off somewhat in the following fashion. Sir Roland was most attentive to Eila driving her out, accompanying her in her rides, walking with her in the Park, or attending her in the Place, when the band played. He never ventured within the M'Killop walls, however, and his attendance on Eila was tacitly understood to be conditional on the absence of her stepdame.

They did not meet in the evenings. Eila, indeed, did not quite see the advantage of drawing off from the society in which she was a particular star, until a substitute was open to her, and only stayed away from those parties which were undeniably of the baser sort; but Sir Roland spent this part of his day in the small and select coterie to which he had the entrée, and to which she had not. The Pau gossips were, of course, at their wits' ends to account for all the strange phenomena connected with Sir Ro

VOL. CX.-NO. DCLXXII.

land's intercourse with Eila; but their various solutions we need not waste time in chronicling. She kept her own counsel, it need hardly be said, and Mrs M'Killop was under her husband's strict injunctions to do the same a circumstance which had latterly come to have some weight with her; besides, to have bruited the marriage, when she was so evidently ignored by the bridegroom's principal relative, would have been unpleasant. "When Bertrand comes," she said to herself, "I shall not be treated so vilely." And so she held. her tongue-en attendant.

The slight badinage which Sir Roland met with from his distinguished friends, on his public appearances with the young beauty, he had little difficulty in parrying. It was pleasant to him, in fact. It had always been his role to be a "sad dog" among the sex; and to take up that of the evergreen, on his return to Europe, was by no means disagreeable to him.

2 E

And so the days passed on; Eila finding her future uncle the most charming of men-so kind, so considerate, so lavish of promises for the future, so lively and entertaining, that she never felt dull with him for a moment. Although, when away from him-when alone-when she allowed a certain grim contingency with all its direful consequences to throw its shadow across her thoughts-she was not dull certainly, her feelings were simply those of desperation. If any one could have looked into her mind at such moments, and seen all its tumults and anxieties, he would have regarded her radiant aspect in public, with amazement and something even of admiration. She was living, as it were, within a bubble, owing much of her ornamental aspect to its prismatic colours, and conscious that a breath might, even then, be travelling towards her, which would dissolve that frail surrounding. It was a critical position for a young lady to be in, and yet carry so brave a front withal.

Let us go back to Bournemouth, and see whether a breath to dissolve the bubble was really to travel from its shore.

When we left Bertrand and his friend, they had just adjourned, until the morrow, the consideration of Eila's letter and the form which Bertrand's answer to it should take. When the morrow came, however, and the matter was opened, Pigott found that his friend's mind was already quite made up, and that he had resolved simply to write to Eila, and tell her that he had considered her for mer letter as finally breaking off their engagement, and that no circumstance had intervened to make him take a different view of the subject. He had determined, also, to leave her to make what explanation she pleased to her father, being satisfied that, in her own interest, she would not compromise him by the

manner of doing so. Further, as his uncle had not thought proper to renew relations with him directly, he would not take the initiative in bringing about a reconciliation.

Such were his fixed resolves, and it was in vain that his friend combated them, pointing out that, in justice to himself, he was bound to let Mr M'Killop understand why he declined to go on with the marriage, and that the chances were, he would only aggravate the eventual exposure which Eila's conduct was certain to undergo, by being obliged to meet an action for breach of promise. As to his neglecting the opportunity of a reconciliation with his uncle, that, in Pigott's view, was almost indicative that the fever had permanently weakened his friend's brain. all his arguments and expostulations were useless; and Bertrand cut them short by sitting down to write the letter, according to his own plan.

But

It was short and very much to the purpose, and ran as follows:—

"Your letter of the -th has reached me, and I will not trouble you with a long answer to it. The very great misconception of my character which could alone have induced you to write this second letter, is perfectly consistent with a statement in your former one, that you had no great belief in your own love for me. It certainly would justify a feeling of contempt, rather than of love; but you are apparently indifferent to this, and willing, notwithstanding, to ally yourself with the very simple person you take me to be. Your former letter, however, perfectly satisfied me that we are quite unsuited to one another; and this would only confirm that impression, if confirmation were at all necessary. And when I assure you that I am not quite a simpleton, and that I value and respect truth beyond all qualities, I think you will

understand, without any broad speaking, why farther relations between us are impossible. I have determined not to write to your father. If I did write, I should, in justice to myself, be compelled to speak in plainer terms. You may account to him for my decision in any way you please, consistent with the fact that I have not wantonly violated my engagement.

"I have only farther to add that I have undergone not a little pain and sorrow at your hands. I am neither too proud to own this, nor so poor in spirit as to reproach you with it, but I shall be glad if the confession has any effect in influencing your future conduct to others, and if you also extract, as I do, some wholesome lesson from what has passed between us.

"BERTRAND CAMERON."

The spirit, though not the letter of this, Bertrand communicated to his friend, who pronounced it to be a masterpiece of Quixotic folly.

"She deserves a deal more plain speaking," he said; "and the whole clan M'Killop ought to know what a little serpent is nestling in the folds of their tartan. However, it is a mere matter of time, and you will have to do as I advise in the long-run, with the difference that you will have to pay for the process a good many six-and-eightpences into the bargain. May they be very many. It will serve you right. As to your uncle, why, that branch of the imbecility simply sickens me; that's all. If ever there was a case of cutting off a nose to spite a face, here it is. Oh dear! oh dear! I am the object of very few mercies, but for this one I desire to be thankful

that I was not born a Celt." "I could only reply with a tu quoque, my dear fellow, which I scorn; so let us say no more about it. I have signed and sealed this

my act and deed. I am now going to deliver it to the post-office; and, at the same time, I will pay my respects to Miss Grant, if you will give me her address."

"I will go with you, and show the way."

"No, no; I shall have to tell her about this affair more or less minutely, and a third party would be de trop."

"I'll go with you to the door, at all events. Between ourselves, Bertrand, I would tell her as nearly the truth of the matter as your Quixotic soul can bring itself to do. It can never displease any well-regulated young lady to hear that her stepsister is a mauvais sujet. Besides, this girl is of the right sort; and she may be of use hereafter in flavouring the other young lady's romantic account of the matter with some spice of the truth. She may even save you the breach of promise case

who knows? Be open with her, most noble M'Quixote."

"Come along in the mean time, most sapient of Sassenachs."

As luck would have it, long before they reached the house where Morna was visiting, they espied her in the distance, walking slowly by herself in a solitary path among the pine-groves, "A la bonne heure!" said Bertrand. "Leave me, Pigott, and I will give chase. Nothing could be more fortunate." Whereupon the two friends separated.

Before that eventful day when Bertrand Cameron waited upon Mr M'Killop in his business-room at Cairnarvoch to ask him formally to sanction his engagement with Éila, we have Mr M'Killop's own statement on record, that no idea of such a solution of the problem how to reconcile the whispers of conscience with the dictates of his own interest, had crossed his mind.

Any statement from such a source is, of course, liable to grave suspicion;