CHAPTER XV.

PASSING through the entrance hall of that old ivied castle mentioned in our first chapter, we shall at length find ourselves in an old-fashioned room, and before our noses three persons are together-two gentlemen and one lady. He who is gravely striding up and down, looking as grim as his ancestors who hang on the walls around him, will be recognized at once as the lord and master of the place-Gascoigne. Buried under the mantel of a vast old-fashioned chimney, with her head resting on an exquisitely chiselled arm, and looking pale and sad, we recognize the Lady Ruth; by the way, we must remark that here we have an example which might lead us to doubt if "Marriages are made in heaven;" for verily we have before us an ill-assorted couple -oil and water. Directly opposite to the lady sat the third occupant of the room, a man in the prime of life, and of pleasing countenance; his eyes of dark blue were fixed with calm expression on the features of the lady, as though he was anxious to read there (without suspicion of his object) the cause which produced such sad effects.

This man was Lord Edgar Galbraith, only brother of the Lady Ruth, who, much against his will, had been obliged to remain for one night beneath the roof of his brother-in-law, on account of the weather, his horse having also cast a shoe during the heat of the chase, and being pressed afterwards, had fallen slightly lame. A man or woman simply entering that room, and glancing quickly around, could soon see how matters stood; and, most assuredly, that grim, hard-featured man (who passed the fire at every turn like a shadow, and then became hidden from view as he got beyond the radius illuminated by the fitful flame from the huge logs, which became by degrees extinguished, and passed into bright red embers) would be regarded as the ogre who had effectually silenced all parties there present, and who caused the sad, pained look of the lady.

All were silent; two out of the three sat perfectly still, like statues, fearing to open their mouths, lest something unpleasant might happen; while the third, with clouded brow, by his heavy tread, alone, broke silence.

Suddenly the door burst open (it must have been ajar), and in bounded a huge mastiff of true English breed; this dog was very quickly at the feet of his master, and there stood licking his hand, and wagging his huge tail with delight;

then catching a glimpse of the lady, walked majestically across, and did homage there too. 'Lion' and Lady Ruth were very old friends. This little episode appeared to suit the master of the house; it gave him an opportunity to vent his spleen, and he spoke accordingly:

"'Sdeath, madam, is our castle to be turned into a dog-kennel for your pleasure?

This was asked in no gentle tone, and a stamp of the heavy boot worn at the period, with armed heel, was included, to add to its force; then, seizing a log of wood, he advanced upon the animal, but his course was impeded. Galbraith stood before him, drawn up to his full height, some six feet four inches. 'Lion' saw that something was wrong, and he was immediately ready for action close to his master, who now for the first time spoke as follows:

"Sir Gilbert Gascoigne must permit me to remind him that I will not suffer even a dumb animal to be injured in my presence.

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Lady Ruth stepped between them, fearing a collision.

"Surely, Gilbert, you will not kill Lion,' for affection to his master brought him here."

"Kill, kill, always kill; just because in a hasty moment I murdered your pet monkey; pray, do not hesitate constantly to harass me with it; while alive, the monkey was unnoticed

by you. I killed it, unfortunately, and now never get a moment's peace." Angrily enough was this said.

"I am sure, Gilbert, you are never reproached with it," answered Lady Ruth, meekly, bursting into tears, which had long been ready, and could no longer be repressed.

'Sdeath,

"Never reproach me, madam ! what call you those tears? Is not a woman always in tears a constant reproach to her husband? What can Galbraith think of me, eh, tell me that? Why he thinks me a brute-me, the best of husbands! Wipe up your tears, or on his return he'll see red eyes, and they tell tales. Let others, at all events, be in ignorance of your folly; it is enough that I know your extreme sensitiveness."

We may here just remark that Galbraith, foreseeing a little matrimonial squall, had mizzled with his dog, and perhaps Sir Gilbert was a little anxious to keep on good terms with him. It was not out of consideration for his wife that he wished her to dry her tears-not a bit of it-he cared no more for her than he did for the mastiff; his ungovernable temper had got the better of his judgment, and probably he had already alienated Lord Edgar, a man with whom of all others he wished to be on good terms. He glanced again at his wife; there

was the air of oppression and suffering-the wasted cheeks, dull eyes, and transparent hands; and suddenly he seemed impressed with some strange feeling. After all, there was some affection in him without his knowing it. There is good in all, though none are all good. He was struck with the change which had come over her, and remorse seized upon him. He walked quietly towards her, and gently took possession of one hand. Was it thus? We shall see.

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Sweetheart," said he, "you are suffering in secret from my brutality; this must not be; we must be happy now. Surely, with all we could wish for around us, it is possible; pardon me for the past, and look forward to the future."

His wife was astonished at this change; her colour rose, and she clung to him with all her first affection, strengthened; all was forgiven and forgotten at once. Oh woman, woman, well indeed is it for us that such things can be!

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Gilbert, my husband, now I live indeed, and could wish to cumber the earth yet awhile. We have mutually erred; let us both seek for pardon, and start afresh for a bright future. But I am ill and worn now, Gilbert; our daughter, too, has appeared latterly to droop. Let us leave the Castle for a time-go abroad, and amid