among us as Milly's confessor.

He took luncheon with us on the day of our departure, and with an adroit
privacy, which in a layman would have been sly, presented her, in right of
his holy calling, with a little book, the binding of which was mediaeval
and costly, and whose letter-press dealt in a way which he commended,
with some points on which she was not satisfactory; and she found on the
fly-leaf this little inscription:--'Presented to Miss Millicent Ruthyn by
an earnest well-wisher, 1st December 1844.' A text, very neatly penned,
followed this; and the 'presentation' was made unctiously indeed, but with
a blush, as well as the accustomed smile, and with eyes that were lowered.

The early crimson sun of December had gone down behind the hills before we
took our seats in the carriage.

Lord Ilbury leaned with his elbow on the carriage window, looking in, and
he said to me--

'I really don't know what we shall do, Miss Ruthyn; we shall all feel so
lonely. For myself, I think I shall run away to Grange.'

This appeared to me as nearly perfect eloquence as human lips could utter.

His hand still rested on the window, and the Rev. Sprigge Biddlepen was
standing with a saddened smirk on the door steps, when the whip smacked,
the horses scrambled into motion, and away we rolled down the avenue,
leaving behind us the pleasantest house and hostess in the world, and
trotting fleetly into darkness towards Bartram-Haugh.

We were both rather silent. Milly had her book in her lap, and I saw
her every now and then try to read her 'earnest well-wisher's' little
inscription, but there was not light to read by.

When we reached the great gate of Bartram-Haugh it was dark. Old Crowl, who
kept the gate, I heard enjoining the postilion to make no avoidable noise
at the hall-door, for the odd but startling reason that he believed my
uncle 'would be dead by this time.'

Very much shocked and frightened, we stopped the carriage, and questioned
the tremulous old porter.

Uncle Silas, it seemed, had been 'silly-ish' all yesterday, and 'could not
be woke this morning,' and 'the doctor had been here twice, being now in
the house.'

'Is he better?' I asked, tremblingly.

'Not as I'm aweer on, Miss; he lay at God's mercy two hours agone; 'appen
he's in heaven be this time.'

'Drive on--drive fast,' I said to the driver. 'Don't be frightened, Milly;
please Heaven we shall find all going well.'

After some delay, during which my