Jubilee Hall

CHAPTER XI.

WATCHING HIS OPPORTUNITY.

For a long time Fred debated with himself whether to make Harry a confederate in his scheme or not. He knew that Harry's affectionate spirit had been sorely ruffled and tried that afternoon by Maurice's conduct towards him; and he knew also he had only to show the large purple bruise on his shoulder to call forth a burst of bitter anger in his brother's breast. Harry, too, had a keen enjoyment in following up any scheme which savoured of danger and mystery; and there would be something almost too seductive in the thought of outwitting Maurice, with all his pride and hauteur, for Harry to be able to refuse his aid.

And, after all, what harm was there in the whole affair? He was not going to steal or even touch anything in the store-room, except to raise the lid of the box marked "Fragile," and take one glimpse at the carved ivory men; just sufficient to be able to describe them faithfully to Maurice, and leave him in all the perplexity of a secret and undiscoverable defeat.

It was only a fair revenge for the uucourteous conduct of his cousin,—the epithets hurled on him in the presence of all the guests, and the cruel blow which had sent him reeling back into the darkness of the store-room. "At least I can sound Harry on the subject, and see how he likes the look of it. If he jumps at the fly, all serene; if not, then mum's the word, and all the danger and glory will be my own." So thought Fred as he slowly walked up the stairs leading to the landing where their room was situated, and his face was grave and abstracted when he opened the door and walked in.

"Well, Fred, old man," cried Harry's sympathizing voice as he entered, "I hope you are not much hurt. I was just saying to Kathleen, as you came in, what a shame it was of Maurice to turn on you the way he did, and to knock you down and call you names before every one!"

"Yes, you may say so; and if you only saw the bruise on my shoulder-blade, you'd open your eyes a bit. I am sure it's as large as a plate this moment, and as black and blue as your shoe; and all for what, I'd like to know. Nothing but his confounded pride and ill-temper."

"I can't think why he should have grown so suddenly cold to you," said Harry uneasily. "Sometimes I think perhaps it is all my fault."

"Your fault! Rubbish! how could it be?"

"Well, because I know I said something to him yesterday about the stones you had put in your can, and he flared up at once, and said if you had done it, it was a howling shame, and all that kind of thing. But, somehow or other, I think," pleaded Harry humbly, "something more must have happened to vex him, or he could not be so frightfully waxy."

"I'll wax him before I've done with him," said Fred angrily. "Whether I put the stones in the can or not, what business is it to him? He has no right to set himself up for a judge and put me in Coventry before all the others. However, he'll be sorry for it before all's over. I'll promise you that much for your consolation."

The consolation appeared scarcely to affect Harry as much as might have been anticipated; he glanced nervously towards his brother, and ended a rumination of full five minutes' length with a prolonged sigh.

"Heigh ho, I wish we had never left home. I know I, for one, shall never be in a hurry to leave it again."

"Nor I either," cried Fred, with a certain hoarse sound in his voice which betrayed no small amount of emotion. "However, in for a penny, in for a pound, is my maxim; and I'd rather stick here all my life than leave the place without giving Maurice a Roland for his Oliver."

"You'll never be able to do it. Remember he is in his own house, and we are only visitors."

"All the same, I will do it; and what's more, the trap is set and the hook baited, and I'll be even with him before this time to-morrow, you'll see."

"Why, what are you going to do?"

"If you had the spirit of a mouse I'd tell you; but I know once you heard the whole scheme, you'd never stop till you'd put your foot in it somehow."

"Fred!"

"Oh yes, it's all very well. I know you'd stand by me, and have stood by me in lots of things; but this is a plan which will require the coolness of a cucumber and the courage and calmness of—well, anything you like, to carry it out; and one of your unhandy scruples would just put me off the whole thing, and make me far too nervous to succeed."

"But what do you want to do?"

"I want to outwit Maurice."

"In what way?"

"Well, I'll just tell you this much. Maurice has as good as sworn that he won't let me get a glimpse of those wonderful chess-men he's so ridiculously proud of, and I'm determined that I will see them; and there is the long and the short of the whole thing."

"But—"

"Never mind 'buts;' there are no 'buts' in the affair at all. I'm going to do it, and that's all."

"But, Fred, if they are locked up in Aunt Marian's store-room, how can you?"

"Ay, there's the rub; but since you know so much, I may as well just tell you I can get in and out of that store-room as easily as I could get in and out of Kathleen's room over there."

At this moment Kathleen opened the very door towards which Fred was pointing and walked in. "Were you calling me?" she asked.

"No, no; go back into your own room and dress for dinner. I was only talking to Harry."

"But I am dressed for dinner and you are not, and the gong is just going to sound."

"You don't say so," cried Harry.—"Look at your watch, Fred, and see."

Fred drew out his watch, and found it wanted but six minutes of the dinner-hour; so further conversation had to be indefinitely postponed, and it was with great difficulty the boys accomplished their feat of dressing in six minutes so as to be down in the drawing-room with the rest of the guests before the gong actually sounded.

Fred usually took his place at the end of the dining-room table close to Maurice, who sat at the foot and carved; but to-night the brothers, by a kind of intuition, exchanged places, and Harry took the vacant chair beside his cousin, while Fred sat high up, and comparatively close to his aunt.

Lady Brinsley noticed, with considerable anxiety of mind, the extreme pallor of Fred's face, and the nervous distress which seemed to overpower him so that he ate almost nothing of the various viands which were offered him, and addressed scarcely a word to those around him. However wrong Fred had been, and however dishonourable his conduct might appear, Maurice, she felt, had no right to behave in the way he had done, and to treat his cousin with such harshness; and Lady Brinsley, whose heart was peculiarly susceptible towards boys of Fred's age, felt once again a strong pity rise in her heart for the lad whose unhappiness was too plainly pictured on his face. But as the dinner-time wore on Fred's demeanour changed curiously; and by the time the meal was over, Lady Brinsley observed with surprise a certain look almost of triumph which glowed in Fred's eye, especially when he turned it in Maurice's direction. Nor was the tone of defiance lost upon her when Fred was suddenly called upon to answer some question addressed to him by his cousin, and to which he replied with a confidence and a sangfroid which were in strong contrast with his former nervousness of manner.

The fact was that Lady Brinsley had proposed that the remainder of the evening, which was deliciously soft and balmy, should be devoted to a grand game of "I Spy," among the laurels and thick-growing shrubs of the pleasure-ground; and that the whole party should adjourn outside the Hall after dinner, and have their tea spread afterwards in the tent on the archery ground, with strawberries and cream to refresh themselves after their races and fatigue.

This idea was hailed with unmixed delight by all the party, and by no one with more zeal than Fred, who saw in this suggestion a grand opportunity for carrying out his scheme; for as all the party would be busily employed outside, he could easily seize on a moment to slip away downstairs and invade undisturbed the sacred precincts of the store-room.

But matters did not turn out so propitiously as Fred had imagined. Lady Brinsley, who felt uneasy and restless in her mind both about the boy and the results which might be anticipated from his wounded pride, made it her special charge to look after him, and to see that he was not left out of the game or otherwise coldly treated by Maurice. So Fred, though he watched eagerly for an auspicious moment for flight, had to wait long before the favourable opportunity presented itself.

At last there did come a time when Fred thought he could slip away without notice. Two of the party had gone off to hide as hares in the cover of the far-off evergreens; and Maurice and his mother had gone down to the archery ground to look after the fixing of some pole in the tent, which the butler had brought them word was in rather a shaky condition, and required looking after before the rush of hungry hares into its recesses might bring the whole affair tumbling down about their heads.

Fred now watched his opportunity, and seeing the coast clear, edged slowly off from the group of hounds, which were gathered under a large beech tree, awaiting the shrill whistle from the plantation which would announce that the hares were in safe hiding, and convey also some slight notion as to their whereabouts.

"Where are you going? You are not allowed to leave bounds until the hares are hid," cried several voices as Fred moved out of their ranks.

"Humbug! what harm can I do out here? I can't catch a glimpse of the hiding-ground from this place, and I'm sick of sticking all in a lump under this tree like a swarm of bees."

"It is not fair, for all that," cried the same voices again; "we said we would not go further than this tree."

"I said nothing of the kind; besides, I am tired of the game, and I am going to take a stroll until supper is ready."

"Fred, you are not going really to leave the game?" cried Harry, coming up to him anxiously from under the shadow of the tree. "Do come back,—there's a good fellow; it will be no fun without you." And as Harry spoke he eagerly sought to scan his brother's face, half suspecting he had something more weighty on his mind than a mere stroll about the place.

"Bosh! you'll do twice as well without me," cried Fred, attempting a laugh. But seeing the look in Harry's eyes, he changed his mind, and added in a low voice, "Cannot you take a hint and keep them all quiet there for a few minutes, and draw their attention off me, for I've been watching for this opportunity the whole evening."

"What for?" gasped Harry.

"Why, what I told you before."

"But you did not tell me."

"Well, never mind; the whole thing won't take five minutes, and I'll come back and tell you then."

"O Fred! I know you will get yourself into some awful scrape. Please don't go and do anything rash."

"I tell you I'm in for it now, and, scrape or no scrape, I'll carry it through."

"Would there be less danger if I were to help you?"

"No, no; there is the whistle: if we both went off together, we should only draw suspicion on ourselves. Go, go, I tell you, and hunt with the others; this is the moment of all others for me." And Harry, sorely against his will, went off to search among the evergreens and under the low-growing shrubs for the missing hares, while Fred turned his steps with apparent nonchalance towards the house.

But the moment for success which he had so confidently looked for had not yet come. Just as Fred turned through a low gate in the pleasure-ground leading by a shrubbery walk towards the Hall, he saw Maurice coming round from an opposite path, and also making his way in the direction of the house.

Both the boys caught sight of each other at the same moment, and both paused for an instant, hesitating what course to pursue. Fred was the first to act. He turned deliberately on his heel, and retraced his steps through the dark shrubbery walk; and then Maurice's resolution seemed also taken, for Fred heard hasty steps behind him and some one calling him by his name.

"Fred, Fred! turn back and listen; I want to say something to you."

Fred walked on, his head held proudly in the air, and his ears apparently deaf to Maurice's words.

"Fred, listen to me,—stop; I want awfully to have a few words with you. Don't go on to where the others are, or I can't say them."

But Fred still walked on till he reached the small iron gate, having passed which, he swung it back resolutely in his cousin's face, almost snapping it on his extended hand. Then Maurice halted in his pursuit with a muttered growl of anger and disappointment, and turning also on his heel, he walked gloomily towards the Hall.

CHAPTER XII.

AT DEAD OF NIGHT.

Great was Harry's amazement, when rushing in hot pursuit after the discovered hare, to meet Fred walking leisurely back towards the play-ground. He stopped breathless from his chase, and looked with the most painful suspense into his brother's eyes.

"For goodness' sake," cried Fred angrily, "don't stare at me in that horrid way! With your great fishy eyes you look exactly like a boiled haddock."

"But, Fred, have you done it?"

"Of course I knew you were going to ask me that ganderish question. One would think I was a centipede, to be able to reach the house and be back again here in less than five minutes. Don't be a tomfool."

Harry saw the angry light in Fred's eye, and though he sorely longed to know the cause of his brother's speedy return, he feared to ask any further questions; and when Fred turned away a moment afterwards, and made a sudden short cut down one of the terraces towards the archery-ground, Harry gave up all idea of following him or hearing his news, and repaired again to the beech tree on the pleasure-ground, under which the hounds and hares had once more assembled preparatory to a fresh start.

The supper in the tent was, however, announced to be ready, and both parties gave up the chase, and repaired harmoniously together to feed under the same canvas roof.

The table was quite a sight, it was so beautifully and tastefully decorated with fruits, flowers, and variegated leaves. Lady Brinsley and her daughter made the art of table decoration almost a study; and the effects they produced were generally considered to be perfect.

The tempting odour of the ripe fruit lavishly heaped in dishes around the table was most agreeable to the noses of the hounds, who crowded pell-mell into the tent; and as each plate and chair was labelled with the name of its owner, there was no difficulty or confusion in finding room at the table. Fred was surprised, on taking his seat, to find not only his plate labelled with his own name, but also a very pretty French bon-bon box, beneath whose fretted paper coverings could be seen peeping out the most delicious preserved fruits and sweetmeats.

He looked hastily up at his aunt, and scanned her face curiously, to see if this unexpected gift had come from her. But no: when their eyes met, it there was any peculiar expression visible there, it was one of grave, almost distressed anxiety; and Fred relapsed into a miserable state of mind, which had of late become a constant habit with him.

Once he glanced at Maurice, as a quick, uneasy question, flashed through his mind; but the moment Maurice met his gaze, his cheek flushed, and his eyes hastily sought his plate: so Fred, whose heart was just now wound up to the pitch when tears were very close, sought no further to disentangle the riddle. But his pride would not permit him to appropriate the gift; and when supper was over, he rose from the table with a swelling heart, and, with his head still held proudly in the air, he left the tent, and wandered about the grounds until the gong sounded for evening prayers, after which all the guests dispersed to their respective apartments.

Harry, however, had watched Fred's exit from the tent with anxious eyes: for he knew well, from the compressed muscles of his mouth, the effort made to hide the tell-tale quivering of the lips, and the fixed, stony look in the eye which held back the rising tears; and, had he dared, he would have followed his brother out into the shadows of the sycamore alley, and away down the darker paths of the pine plantation, where once before Fred had sobbed out the burden of his guilt; but he knew that to follow Fred in his present mood could only serve to aggravate his temper, so he waited patiently for his return, hoping that in the solitude of his ramble his vexation might have time to cool down, and his project, whatever it might have been, might be temporarily relinquished.

When they all assembled in the Hall for prayers, Fred made his appearance in the house, and took his usual seat; but his face was perfectly impassive, and, save for the extreme pallor of his cheeks and the red circles round his eyes, Harry could not have suspected that any unusual disturbance had been at work within him.

When they went up to bed, Harry made one or two feeble efforts to draw the conversation into the channels of thought which were occupying his own attention so much. But Fred was moody and reserved, and only answered in monosyllables, not vouchsafing even a hint whether he had relinquished his project or was still intent on carrying it into execution.

So Harry was fain to relapse into silence also; and being very tired from all the racing after the hares and all the previous anxiety of the day, he was glad to hurry into bed and try to forget in sleep all the anxieties and worries which were oppressing him.

He had scarcely placed his head on the pillow ere the sleep he had so eagerly sought began to overpower him; and his mind had already wandered off into a strange dreamland, when some one shook him rather roughly by the shoulder, and Fred in a hoarse whisper exclaimed, "Harry, confound you, can't you wake up? What on earth have you done with the matches? I have been hunting for them all over the room, and can't find them."

"Matches! Why—why—oh yes; of course they are hiding behind the bee-hives," gasped Harry, whose imagination was once more busily engaged in chasing the hares.

"Behind the bee-hives! What on earth are you talking about, you gabby?"

"I—I'm positive I saw them there."

"Where, you jackass?"

"In between the garden wall and the water-butt."

"For goodness' sake wake up, Harry, and tell me where are the matches!"

"The matches! Why, what do you want them for?" and Harry, sitting up in his bed, rubbed his eyes furiously, and then stared in blank wonder at his brother, who, with a lighted candle in his hand, stood by the bedside, still dressed in his evening clothes, and with a face as white as the white paper on the wall behind him.

"Fred, why on earth aren't you in bed? What is it you want?"

"The matches, you ass."

"Matches! I don't think there are any in the room; I used the last one in the box this morning."

"What on earth did you do that for?"

"To seal up a parcel of garden seeds for mother."

"It's just like you. Where is the box, and let me see if there ain't another to be found in it?"

"The box is in the drawer of my washing-stand; but there is no use at all looking into it; you'll find nothing there but a nice little toad I picked up in a ditch this morning, and which I'm keeping to tease Mother Duffy with."

"I never knew any one like you," grumbled Fred savagely as he turned away from the bed; "as sure as ever a fellow wants a thing, you are certain to have been beforehand with him; and if I make a mull of the whole thing now, it will be your fault."

"Perhaps there are matches in Kathleen's room."

"Pooh, I've no notion of bringing the house down about my ears by rousing up everybody in it. Just you go to sleep and mind your own business."

"I can't go to sleep when I know you are going to do some awfully risky thing."

"Risky, my dear fellow! the only risk there can be about it, is the danger of the candle going out. If I were to stumble in the dark and come a cropper on my head, ten to one but the house might be roused, and then I might shut up shop, and no mistake."

"But what's the use of making such a dangerous experiment? what can you gain even if you do succeed?"

"I can gain my point, and that's about as much to me just now as—as anything you need care to mention. But if you are so chicken-hearted as not to take any interest in the matter, tuck your little head under your little wing and go to sleep."

"Fred, you know it's only for your sake."

"Gammon,—my sake! go to sleep, I tell you."

"Remember if you do come to grief it's no fault of mine," cried Harry, hoarsely, as he rolled himself round in the blankets, and turned his face towards the wall.

"All serene; and if I don't come to grief, all the honour and glory will be mine. And now, as I said before, you'd better shut up and go to sleep as fast as you can; for until I know that every living soul in the house is as sound as a top, I'll not budge one foot from the place."

So Harry, thus admonished, lay perfectly still; though had Fred leaned over his brother's bed, he might have heard his teeth chattering together in his head, and the loud throbbings of his heart, which the dangerous project about to be carried out had excited to no common degree.

But as it was, Fred's own heart beat so loud, and his teeth chattered to such an unusual extent, it never occurred to him to think that another person could be suffering the same pangs of uneasiness as himself. Once or twice he had almost relinquished his perilous undertaking; for as the night wore on, and a great stillness took possession of the Hall, familiar objects assumed such strange and goblin-like shapes, that a more courageous nature than Fred's might well have been deterred from venturing amongst them. But Fred had a curiously tenacious spirit, and a project once undertaken and thought over, and, above all, boasted of to his friends, he would go through fire and water to carry out; and his pride rose up stronger than all the ghosts and goblins in the world, to strengthen him against weakly, or at least as he thought weakly, yielding to the promptings of a childish and puerile fear.

As the clock therefore struck one, and perfect silence reigned, Fred opened his door and stole quietly out on the broad landing. The hall, which lay beneath, and into which he could peer by leaning over the banisters, was perhaps the most ghostly spot in the whole place to visit at such a time: for as Fred held the light of his one solitary candle over the dark gulf beneath, shadowy figures, draped in white, seemed to be gathered in the space below; some robed in sheets, with drooping heads and disconsolate figures; and others with white arms stretched imploringly out into the surrounding gloom. These figures gave a terribly spectral appearance to the hall, and sent another thrill of uncertainty and irresolution through the brain of our unfortunate hero.

"Pooh, what folly; had not he often walked about in that very hall, and touched those very statues with his hands, which now looked so unearthly and goblin like? There was no real difference between walking among them in the night or the day; and if he gave way to such humbugging fancies, he might as well give up the whole plan."

Thus Fred reasoned with himself, and did battle with his fears, just as if they were the voices of opposing friends who sought to put him off from his project; and in his vexation with himself, he almost spoke aloud, and gripped the top of the banisters defiantly, as if they too had tried to balk his fancy.

"If only he had some matches,"—this was the great weight on his mind; for if the candle went out in some unexpected draught from some dark and winding passage, what was he to do? While he deliberated thus, he remembered having seen, in the inside hall, a box fixed against the wall for the convenience of those who wished to light their bed-candles downstairs: and this thought comforted him not a little, and encouraged him at least to descend so far as the inner room; for even were he to be discovered, no exception could be taken to his making a raid from his own room in search of matches, none being to be had upstairs.

So leaving the door of his own apartment slightly ajar, that he might the more speedily and noiselessly re-enter it, he slowly and cautiously crept down the first flight of stairs, having previously taken off his slippers, that no sound of a footfall might rouse any of the more wakeful inhabitants of the house.

As he placed his foot on the last step of the first flight, he heard a sound as of some one stirring in the passage above, and with much greater haste than he had hitherto used, he descended the remaining flights, till he found himself at the foot of the main staircase of the Hall, and in the immediate vicinity of two grim warriors in rusty armour, who, each with a halberd in his gloved hand, kept watch at either side of the ascent. Indeed, so nervous was Fred that he forgot the existence of these mail-clad giants altogether, and turning hastily round the corner, he came against one of them with such force that it swayed ominously to and fro on its wooden stand, and finally dropped the halberd from its hand! For one instant Fred thought that all was lost; that the noise of the falling weapon resounding through the hall must alarm the whole household; but happily for him, instead of tumbling on the polished oaken floor of the hall, it fell into the soft flaxen mat at the foot of the staircase, and except for a slight clinking of metal, and a dull sound just as it reached the floor, nothing followed to betray the presence of a midnight intruder.

Had Fred raised his head at this moment and looked above him, to see from whence the noise which had first startled him had proceeded, he would indeed have seen a ghostly visage looking at him, with ashy face and large eyes full of an almost unearthly anxiety; but as it was, he hurried blindly on into the inner hall, that, if pursued, he might be found in the vicinity of the match-box, whose contents, he might truthfully say, he wished to rifle.

But no further sound as of pursuers reached his ears, and having snatched a handful of matches out of the tin box as he passed on, he proceeded with more courageous steps towards the back passages of the house, from whence the staircase descended to the lower regions and subterraneous quarters, in close contiguity to which stood the store-room, within whose walls and upon whose shelves lay the box marked "Fragile."

CHAPTER XIII.

FROM BAD TO WORSE.

The stillness of a large house at dead of night has something at all times very oppressive in it, but more especially when the intruder on this silence is in a highly wrought state of nerves, and acutely watchful of any sound which may arise to alarm him, or interfere with the project he has in hand.

Fred felt this oppression to a painful degree as he passed out of ear-shot of the great pendulum in the main hall, whose loud ticking might be heard over the greater part of the house; but the passages into which he must turn his steps, in order to reach the store-room, were in a wing all to themselves, and separated from the main building by walls thick and massive enough to deaden even a more penetrating sound than the metallic click, click of the old time-piece.

Even the wind, which all night long had kept up a monotonous wail round the Hall, did not seem to make itself heard in those dark and out-of-the-way lobbies; and the chirp, chirp of the cricket, which Fred detested so much to hear in his own home, would have been a welcome intrusion now on the overpowering feeling of utter loneliness and isolation.

Had Fred not made himself master of a whole handful of matches, his fears at this moment would have been almost enough to have conquered every other feeling; for at each turn of the way the flame of the candle flickered horribly, sometimes dying out to a thin blue line and then reviving again as the unseen draught was left behind, and making Fred's heart suddenly leap up into his throat with each fresh terror, leaving him more and more unfit to cope with the dangerous task which he had undertaken.

It was a green baize door leading into the further-most passage of all which first brought him to a complete standstill, and made him actually shudder with disgust and horror at the thought of having to pass through its tightly closed portals.

For as Fred stretched forth his hand to push it inwards on its spring, and in so doing brought his candle close to its nail-dotted covering, he beheld the whole surface of the baize one moving mass of black and horny animals; some creeping rapidly to and fro with shining spiky legs; and others, with huge demon-like horns and palpitating antennae, slowly and leisurely inspecting the green woollen fabric on which they had taken up a temporary position.

"What diabolical monsters! how on earth can anybody face such a host of dirty black brutes!" muttered Fred between his teeth, as he lowered the candle sufficiently to see that the whole ground at his feet was in possession of the same uncanny creatures, and that one monster with great stag-like horns was already in occupation of the toe part of his stocking.

Fred uttered a faint scream, and shook his foot to and fro, hoping to dislodge the enemy, but all in vain; its black claws were fastened firmly into the wool, and until he struck it two or three times with the edge of the silver candlestick, he did not succeed in ridding himself of his enemy.

In despair he now pushed his way through the door, only to find the passage beyond in possession of the same hideous invaders; so he determinedly closed his eyes and hurried forward, every now and then shuddering from head to foot as he felt himself crushing down some horny and unpleasant substance. Nor did he venture to look around him until he had arrived at the head of the private flight of stairs leading immediately from his aunt's own boudoir to the store-room beneath; but at the foot of which also lay certain ghostly subterranean passages with their iron-clamped doors, and dark and dismal surroundings.

This was the moment which, from the beginning, Fred had dreaded the most: for even in the daylight he had felt a certain amount of nervousness in penetrating any distance into these underground places, and especially since one of the grooms had told him of a white figure which might be seen there occasionally at night time, wandering about dim and ghostly, with its right hand mournfully extended as if in search of some one or something it had lost; and an access of almost childish terror overpowered Fred as he felt he must now either encounter these supernatural horrors quite alone and unprotected, or retire from a certain victory just at the moment when its fulfilment was actually within his reach.

But at this juncture the mocking face and voice of Maurice came so vividly before his mind, that he felt quite a new and sudden rush of courage; and the desire to be equal with the boy who had kicked him so ignominiously aside in the store-room beneath, made for the moment every other feeling but that of revenge sink into utter nothingness; and shading the flame of the candle carefully with his hand so as to secure its light in this most dreary and darksome region, he descended cautiously step by step until he stood at the foot of the stone flight, within a few paces of which was the goal of all his hopes.

He resolutely determined not to look around him until he should reach the door of the store-room, so as not to conjure up imaginary terrors; and turning round at the foot of the stairs, in another moment he stood in front of the panelling, from which, in the bright light of the candle, he could already see the ends of the cord depending through the slits in the store-room wall.

At first, in his nervous haste, Fred tugged at the wrong strings, and thus only succeeded in riveting the bolts tighter, and for a few minutes his distress of mind and disappointment were so great, that beads of perspiration started out upon his forehead, and his knees bent and trembled beneath him.

Almost in despair, and without realizing that his failure was all owing to his own mistake, Fred seized one of the other cords and chucked it violently, the result of which proved almost as terrifying in its own way; for the bolt, thus suddenly appealed to, started back from its socket with such a noisy screech that Fred leaped back against the wall and thrust his fingers into his ears, with some foolish thought that, in doing this, he would deaden the ears of the rest of the world as well. For a few minutes he waited and watched anxiously to see if any one had been roused by the noise, holding the flame of the candle close to his lips, so as to blow it out at a moment's warning, and so shroud himself in the security of darkness; but no movement or stir of any kind followed, and, somewhat reassured, Fred set to work with more caution to loosen the companion bolt at the foot of the secret door.

Fortunately for him it glided from its socket freely, without even the grating sound which might have been anticipated, for the grease which had been applied in the afternoon had done its work most effectually; and Fred, with a joy not unmixed with fear, saw the slit in the panel open yawningly before him, revealing sundry ghostly shapes within, the exact outlines of which it was impossible for him as yet to distinguish by the one dim and flickering light which trembled in his guilty hand.

To enter by this secret door, Fred had to stand on a low broad step in the passage outside; a fact which he had not noticed in the haste and flurry of the previous evening, and on which if he had paused now to reason, he might have saved himself from the disaster which almost immediately followed.

But full of eagerness to gain his object, and yet more desirous of regaining the peace and security of his own room, Fred stooped low down, and holding the light in front of him, entered in a cat-like, stealthy manner, by the half open door.

His first sensation, which, unhappily for him, was of short duration, was that of treading on some soft and peculiarly yielding substance, first with one foot and then with the other; and a most unpleasant sensation it was, as of something adhesive and horribly clammy sticking to the soles of his stockings, and he hastened to extricate himself from his position as quickly as he could, to do which he stepped forward boldly with the lighted candle in his hand.

Too boldly, alas, for him, as, forgetful that the inner step or shelf on which he had entered was higher by many inches than the ground, he fell headlong on the floor, extinguishing the candle in his fall and scattering the matches in hopeless confusion over jars, and shelves, and jam-pots, emitting at the same time a loud yell of terror, enough in itself to alarm all the people both within and without the building, and to apprise them of his whereabouts.

For a few moments all was darkness, confusion, and misery; and Fred, in a wild kind of hopelessness, tried to force himself to believe that it was all a dream of horror, from which he would awake presently, and rejoice in the knowledge of his safety. But no such relief came to him; and presently, with a sinking heart, he began to free himself from the cramped position in which he lay, when, to his inexpressible disgust, he found it was a dish of honey into which he had stepped a moment before, for his stockings and the legs of his trousers were sticky and clammy to a pitiable degree. And to add to his discomfiture, as he stood in the dark, and strove to wipe off with his handkerchief some of the adhesive stuff, a half-dead bee (the honey having been taken from the hive only that afternoon) stung him in the arm, and forced him to stamp on the floor with rage and vexation.

Fred's one idea now was to find a match somewhere, and strike a light; the darkness in itself was intolerable. What if he were to see the figure, clothed all in ghostly white, come down the passage now in search of its lost companion! A shudder passed over him at the bare idea.

It would be too disappointing if he had to return without having gained the object for which he had risked so much. His scream had, fortunately, not aroused any of the inmates of the house: it would be well to make one last and decisive effort to carry out his scheme; and Fred, rubbing his elbows, which had suffered severely in the fall, searched over the ground for the candlestick, which had fallen from his hand.

But the candlestick had rolled off behind a chest of tea; and when at length, after much stooping and groping, he had found it, the candle itself was missing, having been jerked forward in quite an opposite direction.

This new search lasted fully five minutes, for the candle had got wedged between a box of raisins and the back of a shelf; and when at last he actually had it in his hand, it was broken quite in two, and refused to sit up straight in the candlestick.

But the greatest disappointment was yet to come; for now that the candle was found, and so little remained between him and the accomplishment of his object, the matches, dozens of which he discovered lying upon the floor at his feet, all positively refused to light! He struck them against the wall, the door, the shelves; all in vain. He stamped on them, he kicked them, he called them by every bad name in his calendar of epithets; but in vain. The matches only lighted on their own box; and Fred, forgetful once more of the dish of honey, actually sat down on the step in the store-room and cried—cried with sheer mortification and disappointment—while in the pauses of his grief he still hurled at Messrs. Bryant and May all the furious expletives of which he was master. How was he ever to get back again to his own room! It would be impossible without a light to find his way through the intricate passages of the Hall, to say nothing of the black and horny beasts which had possession of those silent corridors. There was, alas! no help, no refuge from this misfortune; unless, indeed, he chose to wait patiently where he was till the early morning light should come to his aid. But oh what an insufferable time to spend all alone in this dungeon of a store-room! a place Fred now wished with all his heart he had never seen or heard of.

His grief and utter misery became every moment more and more overwhelming: the loneliness and silence of the place sent cold shivers chasing each other down his back, while the hideous darkness of all around and about him was almost beyond the strength of mind, and endurance of body of a lad of his age.

At length he was driven most unwillingly to the conclusion that his only chance of safety or success lay in patiently abiding in this den of horrors until the first gray of the dawning should yield him sufficient light to effect his escape; and having thus decided, Fred, still unconsciously seated on a dish of honey, closed his eyes tightly, and thrust his fingers into his ears, that no ghostly apparition might startle him, nor sounds of supernatural footsteps moving about and around him might rob him of the small stock of self-command and courage which still existed within his breast.

How long he sat thus he did not know, or whether kindly sleep came to his aid for a few minutes; but when next he uncovered his eyes, although at first all seemed as dark as ever, he gradually became aware that dawn was on the approach, for the closely-barred grating which looked out on the passage began to make itself visible, though after a horribly dread and mysterious fashion, giving to the newly awakened eyes within the impression of some dim. far-off dungeon window, and raising a thousand new and strange thoughts within the over-tired and over-excited brain of the unfortunate self-made prisoner.

Slowly, very slowly, however, other objects began to shape themselves out of the darkness—the shelves, the sacks, the chests, the white jam-pots. Fred gazed and gazed, till, with the very force of gazing, he conjured up strange shapes out of the surrounding gloom. But what was that tall object standing by the back row of shelves? Fred leaned forward and looked so intently that small sparks of fire seemed to pass over the surface of his eyeballs. It was horribly like the height and figure of a man—the figure of some one dressed in white, and standing in silent guard beside the long row of shelves!

Fred actually felt his hair rise up on end on his head, and, with one hand pressed on the step on which he sat, he rose to fly—ay, cowardly as the act might appear, Fred's one thought now was of flight. But to effect his escape by the door, he must climb upon the step where he had been seated; and this was awkward, for the ceiling was low, and in order to mount he must move a step or so nearer the white and motionless figure which so filled his heart with fear.

He stealthily stretched out one foot, and then cautiously advanced the other; but with all his care he could not escape contact. His heel touched the draped outline of the figure, and as it did so, to his intense horror and surprise the white robes in which it had been enveloped instantly glided from the body and fell upon the floor.

Another piercing scream rang through the Hall, only to be cut short by a quick gasp of relief, as Fred, with the cold sweat on his forehead, recognized the skeleton form of the ladder on which his cousin Maurice had remained perched for so many hours the day before; while the white garments which had filled him with such awe were none other than the folds of the long pantry-apron which Maurice had tied round his neck whilst assisting in the store-room.

Fred did not know he had screamed. The instantaneous change from intense fear to a calm comprehension of his surroundings had so taken up all his thoughts as to render him unaware that he had again risked discovery; and now with the remembrance of Maurice had come back the hot sting of anger and the desire for revenge. Ay, and he would have it too. It was not for nothing he had gone through such a terrible night; it was within his grasp now, and all the world should not prevent him from tasting the pleasure of so complete a victory.

As these thoughts kindled furiously, and fanned themselves into a blaze in Fred's mind, he actually made a movement forward, and laid his hands on the still indistinct rungs of the ladder. All was still so dark and shadowy he could not distinguish the box which he had sworn to rifle, or rather into whose depths he was determined to investigate, and the word "Fragile" was as yet invisible to his eye: but time was precious, and the servants in the Hall were early risers; who could tell that, although so gloomy and obscure in these underground regions, sunlight might not be shining in the windows above, and that the house was already alive with busy workers.

These reflections decided Fred upon immediate action. He did not delay a moment, but laid a hand on each side of the ladder, which tottered not a little as he moved it from its first position and placed it more towards the centre of the wall, and pressing at the same time its topmost rung against the highest range of shelves.

The ladder was by no means a very steady one, especially as its left foot stood on the ball of string which had played such an important part in the drama of the evening before; but Fred knew nothing of this, and went very cautiously to work, so as not to overbalance himself, and perhaps come to some fresh grief.

It was even yet so dark that though Fred knew he must be within a few inches of the shelf on which the chess-box stood, he could not trace the form nor even the faintest outline of any of the packages which he remembered the night before to have noticed in close proximity to the coveted case. So, still poised on the top rung but one of the ladder, Fred stared with all his might straight before him, hoping by the dint of earnest looking to see the word "Fragile" rise up out of the darkness and greet his eyes with the glad promise of success.

And suddenly, as if by magic, and almost as it seemed to him as if a fairy's wand had touched the space before him, the shelf grew curiously and unexpectedly luminous, and the long-watched-for chess-box started out of the gloom actually in front of him, and within a couple of inches of the place where his right hand was resting!

A sudden shaft of daylight had found its way down the obscure passage; at least so Fred surmised, for he dared not turn round on the ladder to look, and now or never was the moment to carry out his project. He loosened his grip of the ladder, and stretched out his right hand to the chest. In order to secure it, he had to put his arm quite round it and draw it nearer to him, for he durst not let go of the ladder with his other hand lest he might fall headlong from his perch. But the box was much heavier than he had anticipated; and having drawn it over towards the edge of the shelf, he leaned one side of it against his chest, and still clasping it with his right hand prepared for his descent; for it would be impossible to look into its contents poised so insecurely on the ladder, and when once carefully examined, in the security of the room beneath, he could replace it in its original position.

But how was this? The whole room was becoming strangely bright; even the printed labels on the sauce bottles and mustard-tins on the shelves in front of him were becoming startlingly visible; neither could it be the pale gray of dawn which was creeping in through the window, but a yellow, tremulous light. He must turn his head a little to see what it all could mean, and not allow a sudden and terrible panic to overpower him and snatch away his victory just in the moment of triumph.

And Fred did turn his head, while the blood rushed in a sickening speed back upon his heart; for it was not daylight which was outside yonder in the passage, but a flickering, advancing flame, which was throwing shadows over the passage-wall, and casting into profound darkness the nooks and angles where a faint dawn had only a moment before been busy chasing the gloom away.

If only his heart would not thump so, then he could listen for footsteps. Hark! yes, there were footsteps, he could hear them now; stealthy, creeping footsteps, drawing nearer and nearer. If he could only reach the bottom of the ladder and lie down on the ground, no one could see him; but poised as he was in mid-air, the next turn of the passage, and his figure must be revealed to the eyes of the intruders outside.

Only for this miserable box marked "Fragile," he could slide down the ladder in a trice; but now, unless he let it fall purposely from his grasp, he must go down carefully and cautiously to the very ground. If he could but know who and what they were that were approaching; robbers perhaps, or some one startled by the noise of his fall, and seeking through the Hall for its cause—or, or could it be—

The rungs of the ladder trembled under Fred's terrified steps, and the wood creaked ominously. "Hush! good heavens, what was that?" Fred's eyeballs almost leaped from their sockets, and he grasped the sides of the ladder more firmly as a flutter of some white drapery showed itself for a moment in the passage beyond.

"It is the ghost," gasped Fred, while the suspense which had thrilled every fibre of his body up till now turned to a cold and deadly faintness. "I—I saw—saw—" Fred felt his hand relaxing on the chest and the sudden sway of the ladder, and in the agony of this new terror he gave a quick short cry of fear.

At this moment a white-clothed figure with a light in its hand appeared distinctly at the end of the passage; and Fred, with a consciousness that the ladder was swinging completely round, and that the chest marked "Fragile" was gliding from his hand, felt or knew nothing more, save one sharp sting of pain behind his ear, and then all was darkness about and around him, without either the light of dawn or of candle to break its obscurity and silence.

CHAPTER XIV.

GLOOMY FOREBODINGS.

When Fred came back to himself again after he had, as it seemed to him, gone through ages of time, and lived in scenes and places remotely apart from his present uncomfortable position, he found himself lying on some cold flagging oil-cloth in a dimly lighted passage, with his head supported on some one's knees, and two eager, anxious eyes, glaring into his face with a scrutiny which, though it was awestruck and terrified, yet had no threatening or sinister expression.

"Fred, Fred, old fellow, are you better? do say you're better," cried a voice whose anxious tones corresponded with the anxious gaze above him; but the dizziness was so great and the faintness so oppressive, Fred could not respond, and closed his eyes again with a shuddering sigh.

"I do believe he's off again; what are we to do? I say, Kathleen, has that place stopped bleeding yet?"

"Not quite," replied a very sorrowful voice behind his head; and then Fred felt that some one was stanching a wound behind his ear with a handkerchief.

"If he does not come round soon, we must rouse up some one or other: it's awful having him here, perhaps dying, all by ourselves in the middle of the night;" and Fred heard distinctly the dry sob which finished this hopeless remark.

"Wait a minute," he managed to say, while he tried to raise his head a little from his sister's knee. "If you give me time I shall be all right." A fearful remembrance was beginning to dawn on his mind, and a rising sense of jeopardy and danger close at hand. He moaned aloud.

"There, then, don't hurry, and you'll soon be all right, old man. There is no good trying to sit up until you are able, so lie still a bit longer."

"But we shall have the whole place about our ears if we don't hurry?" and Fred looked up inquiringly at his brother.

"Not a fear of it; it is only four o'clock, and there won't be a soul stirring for another hour and a half."

Then Fred drew a deep sigh and closed his eyes, lying back heavily on his sister's arm till they thought he had almost fallen asleep; but by-and-by he asked, in a tremulous, anxious voice, "Harry, I suppose I made an awful smash of it."

"Of what?"

"Of the chess-box and everything."

"To tell you the truth I don't know, for I just hauled you out the best way I could; and precious hard work it was too, to get you over that brutal shelf, and the whole place a mess of honey and bees-wax."

"Did you close the door after you even?"

"How could I, when I had you in my arms?"

"And you left it standing wide open for every one to know what has happened!" and Fred covered his face with his hands in the misery of his recollections.

"It's not too late to shut it now, if that's all you want," said Harry, leaping to his feet.

"And cut off the ends of the string while you are about it, like a good fellow," moaned Fred.

"What string?"

"The string fastened to the bolts."

"I have not a notion what you mean; but I suppose I shall find out." And Harry soon disappeared round the corner of the passage which led to the store-room door.

He was a long time away, and when he came back Fred was sitting up and watching for him anxiously.

"There!" he cried, tossing three or four ends of cord on his brother's knees. "It took me a good ten minutes to gnaw these ruffians across. If they were the ropes of a four-master, they could not be tougher or harder to break."

"Did you chink the bolts back again into their place?" asked Fred uneasily.

"Ay did I; and one fellow squeaked like blue murder. But I say, Fred, if you are all right now, we had better peg on, for I thought I heard a stir in the lower regions, and the place will soon be alive with housemaids and besoms."

Thus admonished, Fred rose from the ground, and with the assistance of Harry and Kathleen stood straight up on his feet.

"How do you feel now?"

"Just a little shaky in the upper story. But never mind; once I am in bed I shall be all right."

Harry blew out his candle, as the dawn was now on the increase; and the three slowly and cautiously made their way along passages and through doorways, until at last they stood in the main hall, with its statues and grim warriors keeping guard at the foot of the staircase. Fred's knees were shaking beneath him, and his heart sickened at the sight of the numerous steps before him.

"Gather up all your courage, and you'll be there before you know where you are," whispered Harry, whose brotherly eyes read every thought of Fred's heart.

"I know I wish I never had come down them," murmured Fred despondingly; and, leaning heavily on the supporting arms held out to him, he wearily plodded on to the top, when, with one more almost despairing effort, he staggered forward to the door of his own room, which Harry pushed open, and Fred, stretching out his hand in the gloom of the closely darkened room, sank helplessly on the nearest chair, with closed eyes and a gray pallor spreading over all his face.

"Safe at last!" gasped Harry, as he felt his way over to the window, and turned back one leaf of the shutter to admit some light. "But oh what an awful night it has been! I would not go through it again for twenty pounds!"

"Yes; and what will happen to us to-morrow, when Aunt Marian finds it all out?" continued Kathleen, in a dolorous whisper—

"For goodness' sake, do stop talking!" cried Fred piteously. "Don't you see how miserable I am already! Could not you lend me an arm one of you to help me into bed?"

Harry instantly came forward and gave his brother his arm, assisting him across the room, and laying him down tenderly in the bed, where he covered him up with the clothes; and having examined the wound behind his ear, to see that it was no longer bleeding, he moved quietly away.

"Kathleen, go to your bed now," he said, turning round to his sister, who stood trembling in her night-dress and bare feet in the centre of the room. "I am afraid you will have caught your death of cold in these passages. Roll yourself up as warmly as you can in the blankets, and the first person I hear stirring in the house I'll send and get you a hot cup of tea."

Kathleen lingered, however, a few minutes, just to see that Fred was all right, and settling comfortably for sleep; and as there was no movement, and his breathing sounded tolerably easy and regular, she presently turned away, and with a glance cast towards Harry, expressive of the most gloomy forebodings, she opened the door of her own room and retired to bed.

Harry, however, could not think of rest: he drew his chair over beside the open shutter, and looked out over the parterre beneath, with its still sleeping flowers, on to the gray and drowsy world beyond.

Even the crows in the rookery were not stirring yet; only the sentinels on the outermost branches gave an occasional "caw," and flapped their black wings ominously.

But the daylight was close at hand, for all that; and he had not sat there long before the sun rose up behind the hills, and with it the whole face of nature grew bright and beautiful. The birds began to sing vigorously, and the gloom and mystery of the twilight disappeared.

Yet somehow this glow and cheerful sunlight brought no comfort to Harry's mind. On the contrary, in exact proportion to the increased glory and beauty of the outside world the darkness and despair of his heart deepened, and the consequences of the last night's adventure assumed every moment more terrible proportions.

Oh what a jolly time they might have had if things had not gone wrong! How beautiful and grand and splendid a place it was, with its gardens, and fountains, and woods, and gymnasium, and every pleasure that could be thought of! And Harry's eyes roamed over all the demesne with an overpowering melancholy, as he thought of the leave-taking which his heart told him only too surely was close at hand.

And how had all this misery come about, which for the last few days had been hedging them in closer and closer, round and round, and which now seemed to hide out all that was peaceful and bright. It was a subject for deep thought and consideration, and the disentangling of all the wretchedness of the last few days was by no means an agreeable or lively task; and Harry's sighs followed so quickly and unconsciously one upon the other, that at length there was a stir in the far-off bed, and Fred cried out in a voice of anguish,—

"Harry, do stop groaning and sighing over there at the window! If you were as miserable as I am, you might sigh till your heart burst, and it would do you no good in the end."

"You cannot be more miserable than I am," said Harry quickly, while he bent his head down upon his folded arm on the window-sill.

"Why, what have you to be unhappy about, I'd like to know? You have done nothing wrong: you have not got into a single row since you came into the house, while I have been plunging out of one only to fall into another twice as bad. I'd give all I have in the world this moment to be safe at home, and awake in the morning and find the whole thing had been a beastly nightmare. If mother had been here, that's all: but there is no use in thinking of 'ifs;' only what a difference it would have made! And yet," added Fred; and then followed a long pause, during which time his face grew unusually grave and thoughtful, and undeniable tears came up into his eyes.

"And yet what?" asked Harry timidly, for Fred did not always like having his thoughts "fished up into the light," as he called it; but this time he only stretched out his arms kindly towards his brother, and said in a softened voice:—

"I remember when I was first revelling in the thought of coming here and staying with Aunt Marian, I thought nearly the best of the whole thing, if not quite, was, that neither father nor mother would be with us, and that we should be able to have everything and to do everything just as we liked ourselves; and now I feel exactly the opposite way. If you only knew the longing I have this moment—the actually cruel longing—for mother to come and sit beside my bed, you'd pity me. I fell asleep a moment ago, just for a second, and dreamt she was going over my Delectus with me outside in the dear old verandah at home; and when I awoke, and saw the corner of the wall paper beside my bed, and knew I was here instead of with her, I actually writhed under the clothes with misery and wretchedness." And as he spoke, Fred threw himself suddenly back in the bed, and covered up his head with the clothes, and Harry could see by the heaving of the counterpane that once more his brother was seeking in his despair to smother down the grief which oppressed him.

At length the time came when it was necessary to think of washing and dressing. The footman came in with hot water, and carried down their clothes to be brushed; nor did Harry discover that he was still partially dressed in his evening costume until John asked him politely if he would not like his black trousers to be taken down to be cleaned. And then he remembered with a start of horror how he had drawn on the first pair that came to his hand the night before; and now, as he gave them up into the man's keeping, he felt convinced that soon the whole affair would be known and talked of downstairs, and that these very garments, which he so reluctantly yielded, would become, as it were, proofs of his complicity. It was impossible, however, to defer the ordeal of breakfast and prayers; and he slowly began to draw on his stockings and clothes, wondering all the time whether he ought to rouse Fred, who seemed to have fallen asleep, or at least to be in a more composed and tranquil frame of mind.

Fred, however, needed no reminder of the hour. It was only a question of sickness and faintness which had kept him so still and silent; and now that this was beginning to pass off he slowly raised himself up in his bed, and began with evident effort to look matters in the face, and make up his mind what course of conduct he ought to pursue.

"Harry, throw me over one of my suspenders,—there's a good fellow," he said presently. "I must get up and dress and go down and face them all, or they'd be suspecting something, and getting wind of the whole affair before I've had time to think the matter out, and settle what's best to be done. My own idea is, that the moment breakfast is over I'll just cut and run and make the best of my way home somehow. I don't care how, so as I can bolt before the thing is discovered, and my name turned into a laughing-stock for the amusement of the company at large."

"Fred, you are only humbugging; you would not really do such a cowardly thing."

"Cowardly! how do you mean? It's not a bit cowardly. I just ask you, now, is a fellow supposed to sit down quietly on a barrel of gunpowder and wait till it explodes? Nonsense; of course not. 'He who fights and runs away, will live to fight another day;' and on that principle I shall certainly cut and run. But oh, I say, Harry, shove us over a chair; I'm so dead sick I cannot stand. Ugh!" and Fred sank down on the top of a portmanteau and closed his eyes, while the deadly paleness crept again over his face.

At this moment there was a knock at the bedroom door, and Harry, scarcely conscious of what he was saying or doing, so engrossed was he by Fred's sudden faintness, cried out, "Come in." The door accordingly opened, and Maurice walked in.

"Well, Fred, old fellow," he cried heartily, "I just came to look after you, as I heard from John you weren't quite the thing—but—;" here Maurice stood quite still in the centre of the room, aghast at the pallor of Fred's face, and the evident distress and anxiety depicted in his cousin's countenance. "Good gracious, Fred, what's the matter with you? you do look ill, and no mistake."

"It's nothing, nothing in the least to signify," cried Fred nervously, and waving back his cousin. "I don't want anything, I assure you: please go downstairs and never mind me; I'll follow presently."

"Nonsense, man, you must not think of coming downstairs when you're so ill; get back into bed, and I'll bring you up a cup of coffee. Do, that's a good fellow; indeed, you are not well enough to be up and going about."

"Yes, do go back to bed," urged Harry. "You know you are as faint as ever you can be; and even if you did make your way downstairs, you would have to come up again."

Thus urged, and feeling himself too miserable to argue, Fred consented to return to the bed; but he utterly refused to lean on Maurice's extended arm, not through pride or vexation, but because he feared Maurice might see the wound behind his ear, and question him about it.

"I say, what a smell of honey there is everywhere," observed Maurice, as he stood by the chair on which Fred had cast his socks. "I have noticed it over the whole place ever since I got up this morning."

No one replied to this remark. Harry was assisting Fred into bed, and pale as was Fred's face, it was well for him it was turned towards the wall, or the shudder caused by a sudden renewal of his fears must have been apparent even to his unsuspecting cousin.

The gong for prayers happily sounding at this moment came to the relief of all parties, and Harry, with many promises of a speedy return, left the room in company with Maurice, who, not understanding the restraint and gravity of his cousin's manner, felt uneasy and constrained.

As they went down the broad staircase, Maurice once more spoke about the strong odour of honey through the hall and along the passages, and expressed some curiosity and surprise about the matter; but even these apparently innocent remarks seemed unfortunately chosen, for Harry coloured crimson, and freeing his arm from his cousin, pushed his way down the stairs in front of him.

Lady Brinsley greeted Harry very affectionately on his entrance; and only thinking that Fred was a little late, made no remark on his absence until prayers were finished, when Maurice having told her of Fred's illness, she inquired most anxiously about him, and offered, when breakfast was over, to go up and see him, and then, if necessary, to send for advice to the neighbouring town.

Harry listened to her kind and thoughtful suggestions in almost total silence; only a stray "Thank you," or, "I am sure you are very kind, aunt," dropping from his lips like so many stones instead of words. Not till Lady Brinsley paused and questioned him whether he was ill himself did he rouse himself up sufficiently to give a definite answer.

He assured her he was quite well; he had not slept much, that was all, and that after breakfast they would both be as right as trivets. And so anxious was he to take his place at the table, and thus avoid further questioning, that he became entirely oblivious of Fred and his breakfast, and unobservant of the fact that Maurice had already poured out the coffee and carried the tray up to his cousin's room.