heroes--or heroines--without knowing it," said Mr.
Sharp, with a bow.

"And yet," said the mother, with a little indignation, "there was some
talk of Mr. Compton doing me the honour to share my hermitage for a part
of the year."

"Mr. Compton! my dear lady! Mr. Compton would die of it in a week," said
Mr. Sharp.

"I am quite well aware of it," said Mrs. Dennistoun; and she added,
after a pause, "so should I."

"What a change it will be for your daughter," said Mr. Sharp. "She will
see everything that is worth seeing. More in a month than she would see
here in a dozen years. Trust Mr. Compton for knowing all that's worth
going after. They have all an instinct for life that is quite remarkable.
There's Lady Mariamne, who has society at her feet, and the old lord is
a most remarkable old gentleman. Your daughter, Mrs. Dennistoun, is a
very fortunate young lady. She has my best congratulations, I am sure."

"Sharp," said Mr. Lynch from the background, "you had better be thinking
of starting, if you want to catch that train."

"I'll see if the pony is there," said John.

Mr. Sharp put down his teacup with precipitation. "Is it as late as
that?" he cried.

"It is the last train," said Mrs. Dennistoun, with great satisfaction.
"And I am afraid, if you missed it, as the house is full, there would be
nothing but a bed at the public-house to offer----"

"Oh, not another word," the lawyer said: and fortunately he never knew
how near that rising young man at the bar, John Tatham, who had every
object in conciliating a solicitor, was to a charge of manslaughter, if
killing an attorney can thus be called. But the feelings of the party
were expressed only in actions of the greatest kindness. They helped him
on with his coat, and covered him with rugs as he got in, shivering, to
the little pony carriage. It was a beautiful night, but the wind is
always a thing to be considered on Windyhill.

"Well, that's a good thing over," said Mr. Lynch, going to the fire as
he came in from the night air at the door and rubbing his hands.

"It would have been a relief to one's feeling to have kicked that fellow
all the way down and up the other side of the combe, and kept him warm,"
said John, with a laugh of wrath.

"It is a pity a man should have so little taste," said Mrs. Dennistoun.

Elinor still stood where she had been standing, with every feeling in
her breast in commotion. She had not taken any part in the insidious
kindness