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"Oh, I—” she began, between a gasp and a bound.

"He—”

“Never mind—if it disturbs you.”

She was so excited that she could not speak connectedly at first, the practised air which she had brought home with her having disappeared. Calming herself she added, “I am not disturbed, and nothing has happened. Only he said he wanted to ask me something, some day; and I ssid never mind that now, He hasn’t asked yet, and is coming to speak to you about it, He would have done so to-night, only I asked him not to bein a hurry. But he will come to-morrow, I am sure !”

It was summer-time, six month’s later, and mowers and hay-makers were at work in the meads. The manor-house, being opposite them, frequently formed a peg for conversation during these operations; and the doings of the squire, and the squire’s young wife, the ourate’s sister-—who was at present the admired of most of them, and the interest of all—met with their due amount of criticism.

Rosa was happy, if ever woman could be said to be so. She had not learned the fate of her father, and sometimes wondered—-perhaps with a sense of relief-—— why he did not write to her from his supposed home in Canada. Her brother Joshua had been presented to a living in a small town, shortly after her marriage, and Cornelius had thereupon succeeded to the vacant ouracy of Narrobourne.

These two had awaited in deep suspense the discovery of their father’s body, and yet the discovery