r in the secret yourself. At all events, he's a
splendid fellow, and he's going to leave the Irish estates with us, and
that old house at Kellett's Court. But where's your father? I 'm dying
to tell him this piece of news."

"Here I am," said Grog, gruffly, as he came forth from a little arbor,
where he had been hiding.

"We're all right, old boy," burst in Beecher, joyfully. "I tried the
cousin dodge with Conway, rubbed him down smoothly, and the upshot is,
he has offered us the Irish property."

Grog gave a short grunt and fixed his eyes steadfastly on his daughter,
who, pale and trembling all over, caught her father's arm for support.

"He felt, naturally enough," resumed Beecher, "that ours was a deuced
hard case."

"I want to hear what _your_ answer was,--what reply _you_ made him!"
gasped out Lizzy, painfully.

"Could there be much doubt about that?" cried Beecher. "I booked the bet
at once."

"No, no, I will not believe it," said she, in a voice of deep emotion:
"you never did so. It was but last night, as we walked here on this very
spot, I told you how, in some far-away colony of England, we could not
fail to earn an honorable living; that I was well content to bear my
share of labor, and you agreed with me that such a life was far better
than one of dependence or mere emergency. You surely could not have
forgotten this!"

"I did n't exactly forget it, but I own I fancied twelve hundred a year
and a snug old house a better thing than road-making at Victoria or
keeping a grammar-school at Auckland."

"And you had the courage to reason thus to the man who had descended
to the ranks as a common soldier to vindicate a name to which nothing
graver attached than a life of waste and extravagance! No, no, tell me
that you are only jesting with me, Annesley. You never said this!"

"Lizzy's right--by Heaven, she's right!" broke in Grog, resolutely.

"If you mean that I refused him, you're both much mistaken; and to
clinch the compact, I even said I 'd set out for Ireland to-morrow."

"I 'm for New Orleans," said Grog, with a rough shake, as though
throwing a weight from his shoulders.

"Will you have a travelling-companion, father?" asked Lizzy, in a low
voice.

"Who is it to be, girl?"

"Lizzy,--your own Lizzy!"

"That will I, girl," cried he, as he threw his arms about her, and
kissed her in sincere affection.

"Good-bye, sir," said she, holding out her hand to Beecher. "Our compact
was a hollow