Shirley

leave my roof if this occurs again: I will have no Cain and Abel strife here.«
    Martin now allowed himself to be taken off: he had been hurt; he was the youngest and slightest: he was quite cool, in no passion: he even smiled, content that the most difficult part of the labour he had set himself was over.
    Once he seemed to flag in the course of the morning.
    »It is not worth while to bother myself for that Caroline,« he remarked. But, a quarter of an hour afterwards, he was again in the dining-room, looking at the head with dishevelled tresses and eyes turbid with despair.
    »Yes,« he said, »I made her sob, shudder, almost faint: I'll see her smile before I've done with her: besides, I want to outwit all these womenites.«
    Directly after dinner, Mrs. Yorke fulfilled her son's calculation, by withdrawing to her chamber. Now for Hortense.
    That lady was just comfortably settled to stocking- in the back-parlour, when Martin – laying down a book which, stretched on the sofa (he was still indisposed, according to his own account), he had been perusing in all the voluptuous ease of a yet callow pacha – lazily introduced some discourse about Sarah, the maid at the Hollow. In the course of much verbal meandering, he insinuated information that this damsel was said to have three suitors, Frederic Murgatroyd, Jeremiah Pighills, and John-of-Mally's-of-Hannah's-of-Deb's; and that Miss Mann had affirmed she knew for a fact, that now the girl was left in sole charge of the cottage, she often had her swains to meals, and entertained them with the best the house afforded.
    It needed no more. Hortense could not have lived another hour without betaking herself to the scene of these nefarious transactions, and inspecting the state of matters in person. Mrs. Horsfall remained.
    Martin, master of the field now, extracted from his mother's work-basket a bunch of keys; with these he opened the sideboard cupboard, produced thence a black bottle and a small glass, placed them on the table, nimbly mounted the stairs, made for Mr. Moore's door, tapped, the nurse opened.
    »If you please, ma'am, you are invited to step into the back-parlour, and take some refreshment: you will not be disturbed: the family are out.«
    He watched her down; he watched her in; himself shut the door: he knew she was safe.
    The hard work was done; now for the pleasure. He snatched his cap, and away for the wood.
    It was yet but half-past three; it had been a fine morning, but the sky looked dark now: it was beginning to snow; the wind blew cold; the wood looked dismal; the old tree grim. Yet Martin approved the shadow on his path: he found a charm in the spectral aspect of the doddered oak.
    He had to wait: to and fro he walked, while the flakes fell faster; and the wind, which at first had but moaned, pitifully howled.
    »She is long in coming,« he muttered, as he glanced along the narrow track. »I wonder,« he subjoined, »what I wish to see her so much for? She is not coming for me. But I have power over her, and I want her to come that I may use that power.«
    He continued his walk.
    »Now,« he resumed, when a further period had elapsed, »if she fails to come, I shall hate and scorn her.«
    It struck four: he heard the church-clock far away. A step so quick, so light, that, but for the rustling of leaves, it would scarcely have sounded on the wood-walk, checked his impatience. The wind blew fiercely now, and the thickened white storm waxed bewildering; but on she came, and not dismayed.
    »Well, Martin,« she said eagerly, »how is he?«
    »It is queer how she thinks of
him,
« reflected Martin: »the blinding snow and bitter cold are nothing to her, I believe: yet she is but a ›chitty-faced creature,‹ as my mother would say. I could find in my heart to wish I had a cloak to wrap her in.«
    Thus meditating to himself, he neglected to answer Miss Helstone.
    »You have seen him?«
    »No.«
    »Oh! You promised you would.«
    »I mean to do better by you than that. Did n't I say,
I
don't care to see him?«
    »But now it will be so long before I get to know anything certain about him, and I am sick of waiting. Martin,
do
see him, and give him Caroline Helstone's regards, and say she wished to know how he was, and if anything could be done for his comfort.«
    »I won't.«
    »You are changed: you were so friendly last night.«
    »Come: we must not stand in this wood; it is too cold.«
    »But, before I go, promise me to come again to-morrow with