the Imperial Theatre for Miss Mirabel. She had reason to believe, May said, that a written communication, intended for her, had never reached her, and she thought that Mrs. Horatio Jones might know something concerning it.

Leonora blushed rather deeper than crimson-she blushed irresistibly at a hint or a shadow-but, after a few moments' consideration, said, with perfect self-possession:

I know of no other letter, Miss Pemberton, than the one that came with the necklace.'

'That came with the necklace!' cried May. 'No letter came with the necklace. You received the packet through the carriage window, but you gave me nothing more.'

'In that case I must have forgotten it,' said Leonora, another deep blush disputing the conclusion. The fact was that the girl had secreted the letter, in obedience to her predominating instinct, and had retained it up to the present time. If you knew Leonora as well as I do, you would understand that the action was quite compatible with the ideas, in which she scrupulously indulged, of perfect honour and integrity; and it was only when occasionally detected in lapses of the kind that her conscience made a suggestion through her cheeks.

There was certainly a letter with the necklace,' continued Mrs. Horatio Jones; and if I did not give it to you at the time it must be in my purse.'

And she drew, as she spoke, from an apparently capacious receptacle a contrivance evidently made to hold a great deal more than money, and after a little search selected a little letter, which she placed in May's hands.

May knew the girl to whom she was speaking too well to make any remark upon her conduct, and was content to take the note with as much carelessness as she could assume. As she did so she glanced at the superscription, and saw that the handwriting was strange to her—it was certainly not that of Cecil Halidame.

Mrs. Horatio Jones stayed some

time longer, talking upon indifferent subjects. Her object in coming to May seemed to be the establishment of her social claims, not only as a respectable married woman' in the abstract, but the wife of so exalted ar official as a purser in the concrete. This point established, and Miss Pemberton appropriately dazzled, she took her departure, not a little proud of the way in which she was able to go about visiting in her own carriage,' as she remarked, with a want of discretion rather damaging to the object in view-more especially as carriages of one kind or another are matters of course among most classes of English in Calcutta, and are by no means reserved for persons of great wealth or position.

Left alone, May tore open the letter- and read the signature first, as you may suppose. It was from Windermere. Its contents were not a declaration of love, but an expression of respect and lomage, with the request that Miss Mirabel would accept the gift which accompanied it in that light; and the writer added a hope for the honour some day of a personal acquaintance. There was nothing whatever in the missive which could have offended the finer feelings of May, even in the position which made her what she had heard described as 'public property.' It was a chivalrous avowal of a gentleman's admiration, and the offering associated with it was made scrupulously as a tribute to the art rather than the person. It was a demonstration well worthy of Windermere's simple manly character; and coming from a stranger, as it did, May must have treated it with respect, apart from the gift, which she might well have hesitated to receive. But what course was she to take now? Windermere considered his present accepted-evidently so, from his words on the previous evening, which May could now understand. And it was impossible to mistake the meaning of so much that he had said besides. She knew not how to receive himand he might appear at any moment. Such were May's reflections as she stood by the open window-how

pleasant it is when you are able to have the windows open in Calcutta! -and recalled to herself the events of the night before. Windermere, too, had claims upon her which gratitude could not disregard. He had saved her life. The more she considered her position towards him the more embarrassing it appeared. And in the midst of all her bewilderment there came the thought of Cecil Halidame. Cecil had gained an influence over her; that was plain. And I suspect that so early as the days at Shuttleton he had drawn from her an avowal which induced confidence between them. She had avoided him since, but I fancy, reluctantly, and in obedier ce to her father's wish; and her later meeting with him had caused her mistrust. But a certain influence still remained; and now, connected with Windermere's avowal, May thought of Cecil with a kind of dread. This feeling came involuntarily, and she asked herself-was she playing an unworthy part? was she false to two men who loved her? The idea was one which she dared not encounter; and while she was evading it Windermere was announced.

Her first impulse was to run away-only to her own room, for she had not the spirit of enterprise which belonged, as we have seen, to Constance upon an occasion of difficulty. But Windermere was in her presence before she could form her plans, and she could not choose but receive him upon terms at least of friendship. What a grand, noble person he was, she thought, as he entered the room. His handsome open face, beaming with health, and his clear honest eye, inspired her at once with confidence. She could not be harsh to him. And then she owed him such a deep debt of gratitude-that, at least, must be acknowledged. Of Cecil she was now afraid to think-though she did think of him; for his conduct in reference to the necklace was unaccountable, and May could not but see that he had been untruthful in the matter the evening before. On the other hand, there was no mystery as regarded Windermere-there was

no reason for resentment of any kind; and he had earned the right to be a friend.

So May controlled herself, and was to Windermere as she had hitherto been during their brief acquaintance. He came, he said, to see how she had endured the fatigues of the ball; and, as in duty bound, he proceeded to talk a great deal of light and airy nonsense connected with that event. May did the same, as in duty bound also; and after this the conversation flagged; and it is impossible to say what would have become of it but for Lucy, who entered opportunely. Mrs. Manton had a pretty little way of talking to morning visitors when she choseand she generally did choose, bythe-way. It was agreeable rattling' carried to excess, and was principally adapted for the amusement of very junior officers. Her husband called it her 'ensign manner,' and said she did it to perfection. Manton was only an ensign as yet, but he assumed superior airs in consequence of his staff appointment, and looked upon ensigns generally with deep disdain. Lucy played off her' ensign manner' upon Windermere upon this occasion, and Windermere was too good-natured not to respond to it; but the trial must have been awful to him; for he would have had all the ensigns in the British army cashiered under conditions of shameful injustice for a quiet half-hour's conversation with May; and this, after waiting for nearly an hour, he decided that he was not likely to obtain. So he went on his way, under the impression that Mrs. Manton was not half so pretty as she had pretended to be, and would not bear the daylight, and that May was more charming than ever, but unfortunate in her friends. May was thus spared, for the present, the explanation which she desired, and at the same time wished to avoid.

CHAPTER LII.

DOUBTS AND FEARS.

The Mantons, with May and Constance, went that evening to Garden Reach, as previously arranged

Constance to be once more at home. The party would scarcely have been a pleasant one for strangers, and even the Mantons found themselves ill at ease; for Constance was constrained and thoughtful, and Mrs. Beltravers was so engaged with May as to be neglectful of her other guests; and a small dinner-party is not likely to prosper under such circumstances. So the Mantons and Miss Pemberton returned early to their hotel, but not before Mrs. Beltravers had made a dozen plans for meeting during the next few days. Her feeling for May had by this time manifested itself so strongly that there was no mistaking her motive, and May, on her part, experienced a sympathy with her new acquaintance for which she could not account. Her new acquaintance! Mrs. Beltravers seemed to her rather an old friend; and in her presence May no longer felt the sense of loneliness that had for so long thrown its cold shade upon her home. So she readily agreed that she and Mrs. Beltravers must be a great deal together while they remained in Calcutta, and she found herself already dreading the idea of a separation.

A fortnight passed away, and by degrees reserve on both sides was abandoned. Mrs. Beltravers ceased to consider the Mantons as a necessary medium, but would call day after day at Spence's and take May home with her, and sometimes the young lady would pass the night at Garden Reach. A great friendship, too, was established between May and Constance, and the latter was so sad and subdued all this time that you would never have supposed her to be her former self. Nobody now first making her acquaintance would have believed it possible that she was the same Constance who had so lately resisted an engagement with one man on the ground that it would be a check to her in society.' The new nature awakened within her aroused the keenest in terest in May, and the two girls grew to have ideas in common to an extent which seemed natural now, but a month before would have been a marvel. But May and Mrs.

Beltravers were still the closest allies, and the younger gradually became accustomed to regard the elder lady as something more than a friend-as a protector. The Mantons still lingered in Calcutta, for the young officer had not yet qualified himself for his appointment by the requisite examination, that check upon the imagination of so many expectants. And while he was 'grinding up,' as he called it, he and Lucy-both of them beginning to take more serious views of life than hitherto were glad to live a little more to themselves than had seemed at one time consistent with their ideas of happiness. So May gradually grew to be more at Garden Reach than in Calcutta, and at last Mrs. Beltravers made a proposal that May should live at her house altogether during her father's absence. Nothing seemed more natural to May, and she immediately wrote for Captain Pemberton's permission. Her letter could obtain but one response. She had found such a charming friend, she said, in Calcutta, one who seemed to fill a vacant place in her existence, one who was to her more like a mother than a mere friend, and one, she added,

with whom it is my greatest wishi to make you acquainted, for I am certain that you will like her as much as I do.'

So Captain Pemberton wrote back from Dehra Doon-where was situated the principal tea-plantation of the Great India Amelioration and Development of the Resources Company-to the effect that he had the greatest trust in his daughter, and was sure that she would not select friends whom he would disapprove, and that she was free to make the change proposed if she thought fit. To tell the truth, the captain was not unpleased at the new arrangement, for he felt uneasy at leaving his daughter in charge of the Mantons, whom he considered rather too young for the office. It came about therefore in the most natural manner, that May took up her abode with her new friends. Only a few weeks before May would have been pained at the idea of leaving Lucy, even though they might still meet

whenever they pleased; and her feeling for her schoolfellow, to whom she owed much kindness, even now suggested that she might be open to the charge of inconstancy. But there was an influence on the one side which was stronger than the scruples on the other; and, after all, Lucy was married, and her relation to May was not quite the same that it was in the old days at Shuttleton. Moreover, the Mantons, as I have hinted, were thinking more of themselves than had been their wont, so the change was made without any reproaches on their part, and no friendly feeling was disturbed.

Meanwhile Windermere had called many times on the Mantons; and while Lucy was entertaining him with her ensign style of conversation-which, with characteristic indiscretion, she was apt to inflict upon all comers alike he always looked for May, indeed always asked for her, and was always told that she was away. Sometimes he heard that she was at Garden Reach; sometimes, without design doubtless, that particular was not vouchsafed to him. But somehow he was never able to see her, and an idea gradually dawned upon him that perhaps the omission was designed. Once he called in Garden Reach, and it chanced that he also missed her there. His disappointment was altogether accidental, but his sensibility took alarm, and he thoughtcould it be possible that May was avoiding him? He knew not what to think, and was equally doubtful what to do. Should he write to her, and confide his hopes to the issue? Such would be the natural course; but how many of us, in a difficulty, are able to take the natural course? He was decided enough, but May was mysterious to him, and he could not tell if she was prepared to receive such a letter as he must write if he wrote at all. She had spoken to him with friendship, with kindness, but that was scarcely enough, and he remembered with bitterness that her fair words might come only from gratitude. How unfortunate, Windermere thought, that such an adventure should have arisen. Yet when he thought again that, at such

a moment of danger, he would not have been away for worlds, he was thoroughly bewildered, and being so, did what nine men out of ten are most apt to do, that is to say, he did nothing.

And now, while Windermere was waiting, and hoping, and doubting, and doing nothing, came an order for him to proceed to his district in the North West, to resume the duties of his office. His service instincts saved him from delay, and he prepared for the journey, resolving to write a long letter to May as soon as he arrived.

May had all this time expected to see Windermere, and several times, when she heard that he had called at Spence's, she regretted to have missed him. That she was uneasy and anxious at his absence I am well assured; but her feelings in the matter were mingled, and I am at a loss to describe them. As for Constance, she was still sad and still different from her former self. Milward was still a visitor to the house, but the old confidence was not maintained between them, and Constance grew more and more constrained in her manner towards him after the eventful night at the Botanical Gardens. She treated him, however, with more respect than formerly; and that gentleman, who we know was not apt to be easily discouraged, accepted this as a favourable sign. He was not in a hurry. Why should he be? He was young, and had plenty of time to marry; so he philosophically left events to take their course. He had not the smallest idea, all this time, that Constance was mainly occupied in wondering what had become of Sir Norman Halidame.

CHAPTER LIII.
NORTH-WESTWARD HO!

May had not been long settled in Garden Reach when she received a letter which cast a gloom upon her friends.

The little party were at the breakfast-table when the post arrived; and May, who was not troubled with many communications through the

post, opened her solitary letter before Mrs. Beltravers and Constance had cared to do more than look at the outside of their own correspond

ence.

'You have some news, May, I know,' said Mrs. Beltravers, noticing the earnestness with which that young lady perused the contents of her epistle.

The letter is from my father,' answered May; and I am always glad to hear from him. But I am not sure that I am pleased with what he says. I wish much to join him, but I shall be very sorry to leave you and Constance.'

'He is sending for you up-country, then?' said both ladies in a breath.

'He says that I must go as soon as I can find friends travelling in that direction who can accompany I cannot go alone of course.' Mrs. Beltravers was much agitated by the announcement.

me.

'But you must not go,' she said; 'we cannot lose you so soon. Pray prevail upon your father to spare you a little longer. You can tell him that you are safe-with-with-the -the most faithful of friends.'

'I have already told him that, dear Mrs. Beltravers, and I have said how happy I should be if we could find ourselves all together at the same station, and that I would make him acquainted with you and Constance with you especially, who have been so kind to me.'

Mrs. Beltravers came round to May's chair, leant over her shoulder, and kissed her tenderly. It may have been by instinct, to hide the emotion which her face could not conceal.

'And have you said this to him, May?' she asked, with an expression of pleasure strangely mingled with sad anxiety. It is-it is-very, very kind of you.'

My dear Mrs. Beltravers,' returned May, 'I have said nothing more than I meant. I think it would be so pleasant if we could be all together that you could know my father, and that he could know you. I am sure that you are exactly the kind of person whom he would like on the shortest notice.'

Mrs. Beltravers here burst into tears and quitted the room. Then Constance expressed her sorrow at so soon losing her new ally, for a great friendship, as I think I have said, had been established between the two girls. They were both saying how sorry they were, when Mrs. Beltravers rejoined them, and, having apparently recovered her composure, proceeded to open her own letters, which had lain all this time beside her plate.

She proceeded to the task in a very unwilling manner, setting aside some ladylike-looking epistles, most unwarrantably crossed, for perusal, I suppose, at her leisure; and at last coming to a missive of business appearance which she was nearly neglecting altogether, it looked so particularly uninviting outside. Mechanically, however, she opened it, while gazing sadly at May; when, on a sudden, as she glanced at its contents, her face lit up with a look of pleasure. It was a look which always became Mrs. Beltravers, whose beauty was not of the description that gains by sadness-and sometimes she appeared kind and happy in spite of herself.

Here is a happy coincidence!' she cried, holding up the businesslike letter in triumph. Our manager at Saharunpore wants us to go there at once. He says that all kinds of affairs connected with the estate require to be arranged, and that the trustees, or some people of the kind, wish to consult with us, or with me at any rate, on the part of Constance.'

And you will go there?' asked May, eagerly; adding, however, with quick discouragement, but this place-Sahar-what do you call it? -is not where my father is. You will leave me after all.'

May's ideas of Indian localities were rather limited.