from behind the sergeant, with terrified visage, first at one
and then at another of us.

I saw disaster in their faces, and would have held up my hand to warn
him not to speak before Mrs. Buckley. But I was too late, for he had
spoken. And then we sat for a minute, looking at one another, each man
seeing the reflection of his own horror in his neighbour's eyes.

Chapter XL

THE STORM BURSTS.

Poor little Cecil Mayford had left us about nine o'clock in the morning
of the day before this, and, accompanied by Charles Hawker, reached his
mother's station about eleven o'clock in the day.

All the way Charles had talked incessantly of Ellen, and Cecil joined
in Charles's praises of his sister, and joked with him for being
"awfully spooney" about her.

"You're worse about my sister, Charley," said he, "than old Sam is
about Miss Brentwood. He takes things quiet enough, but if you go on in
this style till you are old enough to marry, by Jove, there'll be
nothing of you left!"

"I wonder if she would have me?" said Charles, not heeding him.

"The best thing you can do is to ask her," said Cecil. "I think I know
what she would say though."

They reached Mrs. Mayford's, and spent a few pleasant hours together.
Charles started home again about three o'clock, and having gone a
little way, turned to look back. The brother and sister stood at the
house-door still. He waved his hand in farewell to them, and they
replied. Then he rode on and saw them no more.

Cecil and Ellen went into the house to their mother. The women worked,
and Cecil read aloud to them. The book was "Waverley;" I saw it
afterwards, and when supper was over he took it up to begin reading
again.

"Not that book to-night, my boy," said his mother. "Read us a chapter
out of the Bible. I am very low in my mind, and at such times I like to
hear the Word."

He read the good book to them till quite late. Both he and Ellen
thought it strange that their mother should insist on that book on a
week-night; they never usually read it, save on Sunday evenings.

The morning broke bright and frosty. Cecil was abroad betimes, and went
down the paddock to fetch the horses. He put them in the stock-yard,
and stood for a time close to the stable, talking to a tame black lad,
that they employed about the place.

His attention was attracted by a noise of horses' feet. He looked up
and saw about a dozen men riding swiftly and silently across the
paddock towar