'Yes, very; we are a fortunate family, and it is most gratifying to see the great improvements in our prospects. You have acted creditably, most creditably, Mordaunt, and your poor cousin would approve your conduct highly, could he but-however, that is not the point upon which I desire to speak now.'

Mordaunt looked surprised.

"You have given me one important piece of intelligence-at least, what would have been important only a few days ago—now it signifies little.'

'How so?' he asked, quickly.

'Because far more brilliant prospects are opening upon us through our beloved Eve.' 'What do you mean, Mrs. Cuthbert ?'

'I mean, Mordaunt Daresford, that she is about to become the wife of Sir Mark Philipson.' 'Impossible !'

'Not at all; he has paid her great attention for a long time; he proposed to her on Wednesday, and she has accepted him.'

'Accepted Sir Mark Philipson !'

'Yes; subject, of course, to my approval, which I need not say was given with my whole heart. Oh! Mordaunt, is it not magnificent

for the dear girl, for us all ?'

Mordaunt was silent, his hands over his face. Mrs. Cuthbert was awed for a moment. 'Does she love him?' he said, at length, huskily.

'My dear Mordaunt, what a question! of course she does. I am sure he is a very finelooking, gentlemanlike, excellent, amiable, and upright man.'

'How came we never to suspect it?'

'How do you know that I did not?' asked the mother, triumphantly.

Another silence. Mrs. Cuthbert felt impatient. He spoke at length, with some effort.

'I can scarcely suspect you of a jest so unwomanly-and yet, oh! how glad I should be if you could assure me this was all jest.' He looked up eagerly, piercingly.

Really, Mordaunt, I don't comprehend you. I think you are mad. Do you not rejoice in Eve's good fortune and happiness?'

Ah! in her happiness-if I were only sure of that.'

'How can you doubt it?' Mrs. Cuthbert asked, vehemently. Is he not the most excellent of men?'

'True; but yet not the most loveable, I should have thought, especially not to one who

looks so little to the depths of character as our Eve. And the disparity of years!' 'Mordaunt, you talk absurdly. Sir Mark is in the prime of life.'

'But Eve is scarcely in its spring.'

The very age at which girls always like men older than themselves; as for loveable,' did you ever know any man think another loveable ?'

Mordaunt was silent. Her tone and words jarred upon his feelings harshly.

'I suppose,' Mrs. Cuthbert continued, angrily, you would have had her refuse him, and so have found yourself ousted of your fine appointment, and thrown on the wide world again.'

'Mrs. Cuthbert, if I believed that one thought of me or my interest had biassed Eve in her choice-'

Mrs. Cuthbert looked at his pale face, compressed lips, clenched hand; somewhat alarmed, but resolved to conquer, she went to the door and called Eve,' in a peremptory tone.

It was too late to stop her, although he would have given worlds to avoid or defer that meeting with her. She came quickly, agitation in every movement, and burning blushes suffusing neck and brow.

'Eve,' Mrs. Cuthbert asked, sternly, 'your cousin seems to think I coerced you into your acceptance of Sir Mark. Can you not assure him truly that I had no act or part in it? that I knew nothing of it till you had pledged yourself to him? Was it not so ?'

Yes, mother, yes!' Eve said, putting her hand hurriedly to her brow.

'Were you actuated by any fear that he would dismiss Mordaunt, if you refused him?' the mother continued, triumphantly.

'I never thought of it,' Eve answered, simply.

Your cousin seems to fancy-' but Mordaunt's grasp on her arm arrested her. He could not endure the very idea of insulting Eve by such a suggestion.

Pray spare

'Mrs. Cuthbert, it is enough. her further questioning. If it be for Eve's happiness, that is sufficient for me. That happiness is dearer to me than anything on earth. May God grant that this step may assure it!'

He took her trembling hands, but she did not meet his anxious gaze; timidly her head sank upon his shoulder, and her face was concealed from view.

'Eve, is this marriage to be?'

And he heard her murmur 'Yes,' ere she escaped from him and vanished.

He went up to Mrs. Cuthbert.

'Forgive me,' he said, 'but you misunder-
I did not accuse you.
And now,

stood me.

good-night. I am tired; I have much to think of. Good-night.'

Much, yes, much. Again and again he paced the room, and tried to re-arrange his thoughts, to comprehend, to realize this strange fact. Eve the wife of Sir Mark Philipson ! He scarcely heeded the change of worldly position; it was not as Lady Philipson that he thought of her, but as a wife-the wife of that grave, reserved, unmoved man, of whom he had almost an awe himself. Could she bloom in the shadow of one so lofty? He trembled as he pictured the contrast. Does she love him? The question came over and over again, almost maddening him by its suggestions. Eve, his Eve, so young, so pure, so guileless, could she wed without love? It bewildered him to imagine it possible. He dreaded to find it so how could he ever again believe in human truth or innocence ? And yet-to another he could not have given words to his recollections-but some he most assuredly had,

Could