nd over the black burnt patch where
the fire had caught the furzes on a dry Maynight, and sank on the side
of the Hall.

When we have looked upon a picture of still green life with a troubled
soul, and the blow falls on us, we accuse Nature of our own treachery
to her. Rhoda hurried from the dairy-door to shut herself up in her room
and darken the light surrounding her. She had turned the lock, and
was about systematically to pull down the blind, when the marvel of
beholding Dahlia stepping out of the garden made her for a moment less
the creature of her sickened senses. Dahlia was dressed for a walk, and
she went very fast. The same paralysis of motion afflicted Rhoda as
when she was gazing after her father; but her hand stretched out
instinctively for her bonnet when Dahlia had crossed the green and the
mill-bridge, and was no more visible. Rhoda drew her bonnet on, and
caught her black silk mantle in her hand, and without strength to throw
it across her shoulders, dropped before her bed, and uttered a strange
prayer. "Let her die rather than go back to disgrace, my God! my God!"

She tried to rise, and failed in the effort, and superstitiously renewed
her prayer. "Send death to her rather!"--and Rhoda's vision under
her shut eyes conjured up clouds and lightnings, and spheres in
conflagration.

There is nothing so indicative of fevered or of bad blood as the
tendency to counsel the Almighty how he shall deal with his creatures.
The strain of a long uncertainty, and the late feverish weeks had
distempered the fine blood of the girl, and her acts and words were
becoming remoter exponents of her character.

She bent her head in a blind doze that gave her strength to rise. As
swiftly as she could she went in the track of her sister.

That morning, Robert had likewise received a letter. It was from Major
Waring, and contained a bank-note, and a summons to London, as also
an enclosure from Mrs. Boulby of Warbeach; the nature of which was
an advertisement cut out of the county paper, notifying to one Robert
Eccles that his aunt Anne had died, and that there was a legacy for him,
to be paid over upon application. Robert crossed the fields, laughing
madly at the ironical fate which favoured him a little and a little, and
never enough, save just to keep him swimming.

The letter from Major Waring said:--

"I must see you immediately. Be quick and come. I begin to be of your
opinion--there are some things which we must