How changed everything appeared to be! The tide was out, and Harry felt as if all old associations had gone with it. The rocks were not the rocks he had known. They looked hard and bleak, and frowning. The sands were not so golden as of yore. The mist which hung about the point, where he had rescued Paul Massey, instead of heightening the picturesqueness of the bent coast, looked like mere vulgar fog. The sea-weed, which fringed the pools that he passed, had lost its many hues. The spring sunshine, the songs of birds, and the fresh perfumed breeze had lost their charms. They excited no new hopes; they only carried the mind back to days, the sweets of which Time had dipped in gall.

Denby Rise looked gloomy too. The gables made dark shadows in which the ivy whispered of dead hopes and past joys. The green buds upon the tall trees, and the snowdrops which bloomed beneath Anna Lee's window, typified the new-life of Paul Massey and his love. For them the spring sunshine must be full of gladdening beams. For them the brook, which made such sad music in Harry's ear, must be joyous indeed. But to-day they would put off their happiness. To-day they would lay by their rosy hopes, and bring forth sad-cheerfulness to comfort Harry Thornhill. To-day no glimpse of their new-born bliss should, if possible, touch the heart of the solitary one. On the morrow the sea would have carried him far away on its bosom, and then might Anna Lee lay her head upon Paul Massey's shoulder, and confess her love again.

Mr. Mountford had seen Harry from the library window, and came forth to meet him, with a smile of welcome. He was truly a noble looking fellow this Mark Mountford. The sun shone upon his white hair, and lit up his handsome features as if it delighted to do him honour. But he looked much older than when Harry had seen him, only a few weeks previously. They went in together, and talked of many things; but they never mentioned the one thing that had stabbed them through and through. It was astonishing how they covered up the great sorrow, how they avoided it. By and bye the master rung the bell to have Harry's arrival announced, and to prevent Joe from bringing out the carriage in which Paul Massey and Winford Barnes was to have met Harry at Helswick.

Paul came into the library, and shook hands heartily with Harry, and said how glad he was that the weather was so fine. Barnes had brought round the new yacht, and they had christened it Harry, the Preserver, in remembrance of Harry's gallantry. An old proverb flashed through Mr. Mountford's brain-"Save a man from drowning, and he marries your mistress." But he dismissed the book-whisper instantly, and said Paul's new vessel was an excellent sailer. Harry said he hoped she would always have smooth seas and fair weather. Paul thought he would like to say: "You must think me an ungrateful villain, Harry ; try to forgive me, try not to hate me, I could die for you," and some

other extravagant things; but he dared not uncover what Harry and Mr. Mountford had covered up.

When Paul went out to see, as he said, after some little matters connected with the yacht, Barnes entered to greet Harry; but there was no cordiality between these two. Harry could not forget that Barnes had seized the rope, intended for his wounded friend, during the storm; besides which Barnes's manner and conversation did not please him. He could not have told you of any particular thing that Barnes had done, beyond thrusting aside Paul and saving himself, that displeased him; and he could not have told you any particular words which had been offensive. But he did not like Barnes, and Barnes had no great liking for Harry, whom he regarded as a bit of a fool and a good deal of a spooney.

When Mr. Mountford went out and came back with his niece, Barnes took careful note of the meeting of Harry and Anna; and soon afterwards went specially to Paul with what he called the danger signal. Anna had been unable to restrain her tears, and Mountford, the old humbug—he was sure Mountford was trying it on-motioned to Barnes to leave the room with him. Did he do so? Of course he did. Miss Lee and Harry were together for nearly half an hour. Well? Barnes had made some excuse to get rid of Mountford, and had seen the two through the window. Spying, sneaking, peeping! No, he hadn't; and if Paul got into such confounded rages with him he would hook it altogether.

Had Paul possessed as much true nobleness of nature as Harry Thornhill, he would have stopped Barnes, at this juncture of his report, with scorn. Paul had flared up, it is true, had called Barnes a sneak, and had vowed he would hear no more. But when Barnes said, "Very well, very well," and was walking away, Paul begged him to finish what he had to tell.

Well, then, in passing the window, he saw Anna sitting with her hand in Harry's. Harry was talking very earnestly, begging her to reconsider no doubt, telling her it was not too late, and all that sort of thing. Well, he would make no ex parte statement. He made an excuse to glide quietly into the room for a book. Anna and Harry were too much occupied to notice him, so he passed behind them into the adjoining room; as he did so Harry put a ring upon Anna's finger, and he could distinctly hear him say "I knew you would, Anna." He believed it was the ring which Harry usually wore; but Paul would see for himself at dinner.

Upon this sandy foundation Paul Massey soon built up the structure which Winford Barnes had designed. It grew up so rapidly that its proportion seemed to reach the sky and fill the universe. I knew you would, Anna! Would what? Why, love him at last? Knew she would never consent to his leaving England on her account. would think of their early days, of his constant love; knew she would pity him, knew she would heal his broken heart. Barnes threw in his

Knew she

poisoned hints, and Paul took them eagerly, and raged and stormed and clenched his fists. Winford was a calm spectator, and anxious that Paul should not lose Anna Lee. Paul said Barnes no doubt was right. Love was blind of course. But no, he could not believe it, he would not, he would see for himself. He would ask Anna; no, that would be unjust. If he thought she did relent, he would- No! let Harry have her; he deserved her, he had saved his life. Thus were Paul's thoughts tossed like a shuttlecock, with passion and jealousy for the battledores.

It was by no means a happy dinner. Mr. Mountford said little, and Anna said less. Barnes talked a good deal, and Harry and Paul partook freely of wine. The ring was upon Anna's finger, the ring which Harry had been in the habit of wearing. What fools the green-eyed monster makes of its victims! What trifles delude and deceive them! Anna's calmness seemed "confirmation strong" of the truth of his wild imaginings. Her sadness, and her sisterly attentions to Harry, seemed to him the earliest approaches to a confession of altered affection! Fool! selfish fool! How little he knew of Anna's Lee's nature! How little he understood woman's love! Paul's jealousy burnt fiercer because he knew that Harry was his superior, because he knew that Harry deserved to have his love returned: and Barnes fed the flames, because he disliked Harry and feared that what seemed to be right would triumph, and because he could not imagine anybody giving up a woman so tamely as he thought Harry was giving up Anna. There was something beneath all this calmness Barnes thought; but Barnes with all his worldly wisdom was wrong, and Paul Massey with all his hot romantic love was most unjust to his mistress. True, he was in the hands of a cruel monster; for jealousy saith the preacher, is "cruel as the grave; the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.”

Night came at last. Harry had bravely fulfilled his part. He had said all he had intended to say to Anna. In the morning he had made his little speech without breaking down. Anna had received back again the ring, which Harry, months ago, had removed, in sport, from her finger. She had vowed to wear it now for his sake, and to cherish for him a sister's love. Harry knew she would, he said he was sure she would; but we must leave something to the imagination of our readers, so we pass over all this rapidly. Fill up the shading of our sketch yourself mes amis. You may easily imagine how all the servants came out to wish Mr. Thornhill good-bye, and how Anna Lee afterwards sobbed in her uncle's arms, and prayed for Harry's safety.

The stars shone down upon Harry, and Paul, and Barnes, as they were whirled along from Denby Rise to the cracking of Joe Wittle's whip. Harry fixed his eye upon one which he thought was the brightest, above Denby Rise, and watched it, with a strange sense of loneliness that needed all his strength to combat and overcome. But other stars came

into view as he gazed, thousands, millions of them, until his one bright star was lost amongst the sparkling worlds. He took its disappearance as a token: it was better now that he should forget Anna; it was better that there should be no particular star to point out where Denby Rise peered forth amongst the trees. The carriage wheels rumbled over the stones, and the lamps made illuminated ghosts on the highway through which passed stray wayfarers who said good-night to the driver. Paul Massey had made up his mind to question Harry when they were on board the yacht, and to satisfy himself, if possible, without having to probe Anna's heart for the love which jealousy persuaded him was lurking there for Harry Thornhill.

Arrived at Helswick a boat soon carried them to Paul's yacht, which was lying out peacefully, beneath the stars, at no great distance from the caverns in Denby Cove. About a mile beyond, the steamer would pass down channel at midnight and would signal and wait for the passenger whom the captain considered it an honour and a pleasure to serve. Extra grog was served out to the small crew, and Harry preferred that he and his two friends should smoke their cigars on deck, the night being particularly mild.

In a short time, Paul, with a barbarous selfishness, turned the conversation into the channel which had been made by his jealous fears. His blindness made the answers appear unsatisfactory. When Harry began to divine the object of his friend's interrogations, his heart revolted at Paul's insane suspicions. And when Paul asked him what he meant by saying to Anna Lee I knew you would, when he placed his ring upon her finger, Harry remembered that some person had passed through the room during his conversation with Anna, and the thought that Paul had either been watching, or had set a spy upon him, raised the sleeping lion within him. He replied to Paul with scorn, and said he was unworthy of Anna Lee. Paul, whose hot-headed rashness had been stimulated by wine, added threats to his demands; Winford Barnes said prevarication was a sign of guilt. Harry's sense of the wrong and injustice which had been done to Anna Lee could brook this ingratitude no longer; and he taunted Paul, in terms of withering contempt, with meanness. Hot words followed each other in rapid succession, halfdrowned by the loud choruses which the crew were singing below over At length Paul said he would drag the secret from

their cups.

Harry if it choked him. other.

Suddenly the two sprang upon each

. . . There was a brief scuffle, and in another instant Harry Thornhill disappeared.

'Ahoy! ahoy! a boat, a boat! Mr Thornhill overboard," exclaimed Winford Barnes.

"To the rescue!" shouted Paul, rising to his feet and rushing to the side, but prevented from leaping after his victim by the strong arm of Winford Barnes.

"Lose your hold, or by Heaven you shall repent it," gasped Paul between his teeth; but Winford only smiled, and gripped his companion the tighter.

"Quick! quick, lads, lower the boat, ere this passionate fellow leaps in and drowns himself to save his friend."

This sudden demand upon their energies seemed to sober the yacht's crew instanter, and a boat with the four men in it soon dropped upon the sullen tide.

"Don't be a fool, Paul, for God's sake!" said Winford, when the men were shouting and rowing and searching the water.

"Talk not of God-we should speak in hell's name," said Paul, glaring over the vessel's side.

"If you will compromise yourself, do," said Winford with a curse; "if you will proclaim yourself a murderer, lose your fair bride, and die on a scaffold, do it and be d

"Forbid it, heaven!" exclaimed Paul, in agony at the thought of such a doom.

"Forbid it, Paul Massey; forbid it, Winford Barnes," said his companion; "for they only have the power."

Oh, God! that I had been the weaker. Why did you suffer this? Why, when you saw my hot blood was up-why did you not step between us?"

said Winford coolly; "mayhap I might have gone overboard."

"Heaven forgive me !" exclaimed Paul, "they are unsuccessful!" The moon looked out from behind a cloud and made a long track across the water, and in its fitful radiance the boat glided behind the stern of the yacht. It was quite clear that their mission of mercy was a fruitless one. Paul hailed the boat with a sinking heart, and received the sad reply that "the poor gentleman must ha' sunk like lead." Paul heard the motion of their oars and the water rippling against the vessel; he saw the gleam of pale gold disappear from the sea; he saw the moon hide her face; he heard the voices of his crew; he felt the hand of Winford Barnes upon his shoulder; but, above all, he thought he heard and saw himself pronounced a murderer. The future seemed blotted out, and so did the past—all time was swallowed up with one fearful event: Paul Massey had killed his friend, his companion.

"Come, come," whispered Winford, "you are safe; besides, even were it not so, you did not mean to kill him.”

"I did, I did-in that moment I could have killed him twenty times, and you knew it," said Paul furiously and seizing Winford with a desperate grasp.

'There, there, don't be a fool-remember I am your friend; I alone know what has occurred-remember that there is Anna Lee to live for."