on whose honour I can rely; of whose cleverness in his profession people speak very highly; and who would, I think, take a good deal of trouble for any of-of Aunt Shaw's relations. Mr. Henry Lennox, papa."

"I think it is a good idea," said Mr. Hale. "But don't propose anything which will detain Frederick in England. Don't, for your mother's sake."

"You could go to London to-morrow evening by a night-train," continued Margaret, warming up into her plan. "He must go to-morrow, I'm afraid, papa," said she, tenderly; "we fixed that, because of Mr. Bell, and Dixon's disagreeable acquaintance." "Yes; I must go to-morrow," said Frederick decidedly.

Mr. Hale groaned. "I can't bear to part with you, and yet I am miserable with anxiety as long as you stop here."

"Well then," said Margaret, "listen to my plan. He gets to London on Friday morning. I will-you might-no! it would be better for me to give him a note to Mr. Lennox. You will find him at his chambers in the Temple."

"I will write down a list of all the names I can remember on board the Orion. I could leave it with him to ferret them out. He is Edith's husband's brother, isn't he? I remember your naming him in your letters. I have money in Barbour's hands. I can pay a pretty long bill, if there is any chance of success. Money, dear father, that I had meant for a different purpose; so I shall only consider it as borrowed from you and Margaret.' "Don't do that," said Margaret.

"You won't risk

it if you do. And it will be a risk; only it is worth trying. You can sail from London as well as from Liverpool?"

"To be sure, little goose. Wherever I feel water heaving under a plank, there I feel at home. I'll pick up some craft or other to take me off, never fear. I won't stay twenty-four hours in London, away from you on the one hand, and from somebody else on the other."

It was rather a comfort to Margaret that Frederick took it into his head to look over her shoulder as she wrote to Mr. Lennox. If she had not been thus compelled to write steadily and concisely on, she might have hesitated over many a word, and been puzzled to choose between many an expression, in the awkwardness of being the first to resume the intercourse of which the concluding event had been so unpleasant to both sides. However, the note was taken from her before she had even had time to look it over, and treasured up in a pocket-book, out of which fell a long lock of black hair, the sight of which caused Frederick's eyes to glow with pleasure. "Now you would like to see that, wouldn't you ?" said he. No! you must wait till you see her herself. She is too perfect to be known by fragments. No mean brick shall be a specimen of the building of my palace."

66

CHAPTER VII.

MISCHANCES.

"What! remain to be

Denounced-dragged, it may be, in chains."

WERNER.

ALL the next day they sate together-they three. Mr. Hale hardly ever spoke but when his children asked him questions, and forced him, as it were, into the present. Frederick's grief was no more to be seen or heard; the first paroxysm had passed over, and now he was ashamed of having been so battered down by emotion; and though his sorrow for the loss of his mother was a deep real feeling, and would last out his life, it was never to be spoken of again. Margaret, not so passionate at first, was more suffering now. At times she cried a good deal; and her manner, even when speaking on indifferent things, had a mournful tenderness about it, which was deepened whenever her looks fell on Frederick, and she thought of his rapidly approaching departure. She was glad he was going, on her father's account, however much she might grieve over it on her own. The anxious terror in which Mr. Hale lived lest his son should be detected and captured, far out-weighed the pleasure he derived from his presence. The nervous

ness had increased since Mrs. Hale's death, probably because he dwelt upon it more exclusively. He started at every unusual sound; and was never comfortable unless Frederick sate out of the immediate view of any one entering the room. Towards evening he said:

"You will go with Frederick to the station, Margaret? I shall want to know he is safely off. You will bring me word that he is clear of Milton, at any rate?"

Certainly," said Margaret. "I shall like it, if you won't be lonely without me, papa."

"No, no! I should always be fancying some one had known him, and that he had been stopped, unless you could tell me you had seen him off. go to the Outwood station. not so many people about. is less risk of his being seen. train, Fred?"

And It is quite as near, and Take a cab there. There What time is your

"Ten minutes past six; very nearly dark. So what will you do, Margaret?

“Oh, I can manage. I am getting very brave and very hard. It is a well-lighted road all the way home, if it should be dark. But I was out last week much later."

Margaret was thankful when the parting was over -the parting from the dead mother and the living father. She hurried Frederick into the cab, in order to shorten a scene which she saw was so bitterly painful to her father, who would accompany his son as he took his last look at his mother. Partly in consequence of this, and partly owing to one of the very common mistakes in the "Railway Guide" as to

the times when trains arrive at the smaller stations, they found, on reaching Outwood, that they had nearly twenty minutes to spare. The booking-office was not open, so they could not even take the ticket. They accordingly went down the flight of steps that led to the level of the ground below the railway. There was a broad cinder-path diagonally crossing a field which lay along-side of the carriage-road, and they went there to walk backwards and forwards for the few minutes they had to spare.

Margaret's hand lay in Frederick's arm. He took hold of it affectionately.

"Margaret! I am going to consult Mr. Lennox as to the chance of exculpating myself, so that I may return to England whenever I choose, more for your sake than for the sake of any one else. I can't bear to think of your lonely position if anything should happen to my father. He looks sadly changedterribly shaken. I wish you could get him to think of the Cadiz plan, for many reasons. What could you do if he were taken away? You have no friend We are curiously bare of relations."

near.

Margaret could hardly keep from crying at the tender anxiety with which Frederick was bringing before her an event which she herself felt was not very improbable, so severely had the cares of the last few months told upon Mr. Hale. But she tried to rally as she said:

"There have been such strange unexpected changes in my life during these last two years, that I feel more than ever that it is not worth while to calculate too closely what I should do if any future event took place. I try to think only upon