"No, thank you, I would rather walk," answered Brian. "And indeed it is time for me to start," he added, glancing at his watch and getting up.

The landlord had not got much out of him, but, on the other hand, he had got rather more than he wanted out of the landlord. It appeared, then, that Gilbert had not even thought it worth while to disguise his intentions, and that the probability of his shortly becoming affianced to the beautiful heiress was already discussed at the bars of public-houses! In small places like Kingscliff such things are always known and discussed; yet Brian hated to think that it was so-hated also the thought of meeting his brother. He began to see how much better it would have been to make his proposition by letter than by word of mouth; but it was too late to think of that now.

He walked briskly through the town, looking neither to right nor left, and reached the open country without having been accosted by anybody. When he had mounted some distance up the hillside, and felt tolerably safe from intrusion, he paused and looked back at the town, in the aspect of which one short year had indeed, as Mr. Petherick had declared, worked many changes. The works of Buswell were conspicuous everywhere, save in the fishermen's quarter, which presumably he had not yet dared to invade. From the point where Brian stood he could see stonemasons and bricklayers busy on the land to which his father had clung with such obstinate tenacity; the whole of it was marked out into lots; in one place a huge wooden notice-board had been set up, bearing the inscription of "Site for New Assembly Rooms." Brian turned his back upon all this with a sigh, and climbed higher.

Presently he took an abrupt turn inland, because he did not wish to pass too close to Beatrice's door, but after he had reached a certain pine-wood that he knew of he went his true course again until, on arriving at the outskirts of it, he could gaze down at the old red house which had been his for a short time, and which he hoped would be his again. It too was changed, and, for the matter of that, improved. The grounds round about it looked very trim and well cared for; new gates and fences had been erected; smoke was curling up from the chimneys, and every now and then the sound of stamping hoofs arose from the stable-yard, where some invisible grooms were whistling and laughing over their work.

"I wonder whether I shall ever be rich enough to live in such a place?" thought Brian. "I wonder whether I should like to live there if I were rich enough? Not now, nor for a long time to come at all events. Perhaps some day, when all this has become an old story, and I have grown accustomed to thinking of her as my sister-in-law, I shan't mind."

He walked on with his head bent, and his hands behind his back, mentally rehearsing what he should say to his brother. He was not going to say much, and there should be no quarrelling, he was determined of that. He had come to Beckton to obtain, if possible, the refusal of a property which might shortly be for sale; he had not come to offer useless comments upon anybody's conduct. "Gilbert will know what my opinion of him must be," he thought. "I don't suppose he cares, and I'm not going to try and make him care. What would be the good?"

CHAPTER XLIII.- -MITCHELL PUTS HIS

OAR IN.

GILBERT, as he walked away from the Manor House after saying his last word to Beatrice, was by no means a happy man. It was true that a sudden inspiration had enabled him by that last word to discomfit his assailant, and quit the field without too much appearance of having been routed; but he had been routed, all the same, and that by means of a stratagem which any one with his wits about him would have detected from the outset. For Miss Huntley had not played her part particularly well. She had betrayed her true feelings again and again by sarcasms which ought to have put him upon his guard; she had never conveyed to him the impression that she was in love with him, and he might have known that she would be most unlikely to marry him for any other reason. It would have enraged him to think what a fool he had been, if at the moment he had felt capable of rage; but he was too thoroughly beaten for that. He had staked everything upon this event, and the event had not come off. It was probable that he would lose the election now; it was almost certain that he would lose the few friends whom his questionable conduct towards his brother and his political apostacy had left him in the neighbourhood; in short, his scheme of life had failed, and he said to himself with the calmness of despair that there was nothing for it but to form a fresh one. This, however, was more easily said.

than done; and for the present he neither knew what was to become of him nor greatly cared. A sound drubbing, whether physical or moral, has just this advantage, that a man who has received it is seldom conscious of anything but a wish to retire into some quiet corner and rest. It is not until the next day that his bones begin to ache, and his spirit, if he has any, reasserts itself.

Gilbert plodded homewards, with the sea breaking far beneath him on his right hand, and the wind making a pleasant murmuring through the pine plantations on his left, and before him the expanse of rocky, heathery park-land of which not even the most ruthless modern reformer could wish to deprive Beckton, seeing that it could never be made to do more than graze a scanty flock of sheep. On this sunny autumn afternoon it was serving the not altogether useless purpose of presenting charming outlines and stretches of varied colours to eyes appreciative of such things; but Gilbert's eyes, it must be owned, were not quick to discover the beauties of nature. What they did discover presently, with anything but gratification, was the figure of a tall, broad-shouldered man advancing from the direction of the house, and twirling his stick as he walked. "Bother the fellow!" muttered Gilbert to himself; "I thought we had seen the last of him. I suppose I can't give him the slip."

He certainly could not do that, for it was manifest that he had been already seen; so he summoned up an amiable smile, and as soon as the intruder was within hail, called out: "Hullo, Mitchell! Glad to see you back in these parts. What has brought you from the other end of the kingdom?"

Mitchell's response was a very discourteous one. He strode up to Gilbert until he almost touched him and then ejaculated, "You infernal scoundrel!"

Gilbert fell back a step, looking notes of interrogation.

"You want to know what I am here for, do you?" Mitchell went on grimly. "Well, I have much pleasure in telling you that I am here to settle accounts with you, my fine fellow. I suppose you thought it was a very safe thing to insult and desert a girl who had nobody at hand to protect her except an old man; but you see, you made a little mistake, for once in your life. I carried this ash-plant -and a good stout one it is too-up to your house this afternoon with the intention of laying it over your shoulders, and that's what I am going to do this moment, with your permission.

Now this is not at all the right way to set about assaulting a man who retains the use of his limbs and Mitchell, if determined to inflict condign punishment upon one who well deserved it, should have gone to work forthwith, instead of opening the attack by a volley of injurious epithets, like a hero of epic poetry. Gilbert, though not endowed with much bone or muscle, was as active as a cat, and had no notion of allowing himself to be thrashed if he could help it. He sprang upon Mitchell before the latter had finished speaking, gripped him by the wrist, wrenched his stick out of his hand, and sent it flying a dozen yards away. Then, without waiting to be shaken off, he relaxed his hold and leaped back.

"What a fool you are, Mitchell!" he exclaimed. "You don't know what you are talking about. I'll tell you the rights of the matter, if you like, though I really don't know why I should; for it is no business of yours."

"Pray don't trouble," returned Mitchell. "I know quite as much as I want to know, and you needn't think that I shall let you off. Now then, look out for yourself!"

The advice was hardly given quite soon enough to be acted upon; for simultaneously with its utterance Mitchell's left arm shot out straight from the shoulder, and down went Gilbert upon the flat of his back, with the soles of his boots turned up to the sky.

It takes a few moments for a man who has been knocked down to regain possession of his senses and resume an upright attitude, in order to be knocked down a second time or to return the compliment; and during those few moments some one who, from the edge of the wood above, had been an amazed spectator of what had taken place, and who happened to be a swift runner, was able to reach the spot and confront the aggressor.

"Mitchell, you great idiot!" he panted, "what are you about? What's all this?" "Tell you presently," answered Mitchell. "Get out of the way. I haven't half done yet.'

Meanwhile Gilbert, who had ceased to see stars and had got upon his feet once more, had recognised his brother without any feelings of pleasure or gratitude. To do him justice he was not a physical coward, and indeed there can be few human beings who would tamely accept such an affront as he had just sustained.

"Stand aside and mind your own business, Brian," he said curtly; "I don't want your help."

"You'll have it, though, whether you want it or not," returned Brian tranquilly. "This isn't a fair fight, and I shan't let it go on." "Who said it was a fight?" called out Mitchell. "I'm giving a licking to a blackguard who would have every bone in his skin broken if he got his deserts, and I'm not going to let him escape because he's your brother. That's your misfortune, and I can't help it."

"All right, old chap," said Brian; "you'll have to lick the pair of us then, that's all. Come on!"

But it was obviously out of the question to accept this invitation. Gilbert would doubtless decline to take part in a joint attack, and with Brian Mitchell had no quarrel. Moreover, though this was a minor matter, it was probable that the licking of Brian might prove a task of some difficulty. The instrument of Nemesis had to descend to entreaty.

"Do get out of the light," he whispered. "Just for three minutes; only for three little minutes! I'll promise to drop my hands the moment time's up."

Brian, by way of reply, linked his arm firmly within Mitchell's and drew him away. There were loud expostulations both from Mitchell and from Gilbert; but affrays which have been interrupted by a parley are very seldom resumed, and the upshot of it was that Brian led Mitchell off towards Kingscliff, while Gilbert remained standing where he was. "Blessed are the peacemakers," but it is scarcely by thwarted belligerents that they can expect benedictions to be invoked upon their heads.

Hang it all, Brian! I don't see what you wanted to put your oar in for," grumbled Mitchell, while he was being removed in safe custody. "Of course he's your brother; but after all I shouldn't have killed him, and I think you'll allow that if ever a man has earned a hiding he has."

"I don't know about that; but everybody has a right to fair play, and it stands to reason that Gilbert couldn't have a chance against you," returned Brian. "You should hit a man of your own size. If I had been in his shoes it would have been another matter." "I wish with all my heart that you had been-or, rather, I wish he were as big as you. But really it isn't my fault that rascals are sometimes lightly built. I should have gone for him just the same if he had been Goliath of Gath, and if he is no match for me I'm not to blame for that. I'm thankful to say that I didn't make him."

Brian made no rejoinder; he was not concerned to defend the rights of rascality in the abstract, or to set a premium upon low stature. But after he had conducted his companion to what seemed to be a safe distance from the scene of hostilities he remarked, "I think, as soon as you are a little bit cooler, Mitchell, you will be glad that I interrupted you when I did. You may even be rather sorry that I didn't come up a minute earlier."

"That I most certainly shall not," Mitchell declared. "I did give him one for himself, thank goodness! I don't think he'll care about showing his face to the electors for the next week."

"My dear Mitchell, it's all very fine to talk like that, but, as you said to me just now, I don't see what you wanted to put your oar in for. I suppose I can guess what your quarrel with Gilbert was, and now that we are alone, I don't mind admitting to you that I think he has behaved badly

"Badly! He has behaved like the consummate villain that he is! To throw over a girl who believed in him implicitly, and who has no natural protector to stand up for her, because the Admiral's fighting days are over, and

"Yes, I know; but the question is whether you are the proper person to put yourself forward as her champion. You know, Mitchell, ladies sometimes think that kind of thing a little bit officious. I hope Miss Greenwood will never hear of this, but if she ever does, you may depend upon it that she won't thank you. You forget, or perhaps you haven't heard, that, as a matter of fact, it was she who threw Gilbert over."

"Oh, I know that well enough," answered Mitchell; "that's just the most disgraceful part of the whole business. Of course she gave him his liberty when he let her see that he wanted to get rid of her; and the first thing that he did was to go down to the club with a long face and announce that she had broken off the engagement. I heard all about it from old Johnson. When I went away he promised to drop me a line from time to time and let me know how things were going on here; and the other day I had a letter from him telling me this pretty story. Well, Brian, you know how it used to be with me in the old days; everybody knew; I dare say most people know that I proposed to her in the summer and that she refused me. That was all right; I didn't expect anything else; and she was as kind as she could be about it. I stayed on here until I

couldn't stand it any longer, because I thought I might have a chance of being of use to her in some way or other. I give you my word, sir, that for her sake I would have served that brother of yours to the best of my power, and I really did work pretty hard at electioneering for him. Well, do you know, Miss Huntley once prophesied to me that he would break her heart some day, and I said that if ever he did I would break his head. Now just put yourself in my place for a moment, if you can. Wasn't it natural that, when I got Johnson's letter, I should take the first train south and try to keep my word ?"

"I dare say it was natural," said Brian; "but what good could it do?"

66

Somebody must do these things," answered Mitchell decisively; "a fellow like that isn't to be allowed to have everything his own way. As it is, he has got off, thanks to you, with a little bit of a bump between his eyes, which I hope will turn yellow and black but which won't trouble him long. Barring that slight inconvenience, he has triumphed all along the line. They tell me that he has been as good as accepted by Miss Huntley a woman whom I must say that I don't understand and I suppose he will live happily to the end of his days."

"Is it a fact that Miss Huntley has accepted him?" asked Brian carelessly.

"I believe so. I see now why she was always so anxious to encourage me, and kept on hinting mysteriously that your brother would not marry Miss Greenwood. Women haven't much sense of honour, it seems to me." "Except one, I suppose."

"There are exceptions to every rule," replied Mitchell gravely. "Well, I wish Miss Huntley joy of him, I'm sure. No accounting for tastes, is there?"

"Do you mean to call upon the Greenwoods, now that you are here?" asked Brian, to change the subject.

Mitchell tilted his hat over his eyes and rubbed the back of his head doubtfully. "I hardly know," he answered. "I should like

but perhaps it would be better not, eh? What do you think?"

"If you ask me," said Brian, "I should advise you not to go near them. You would have to give some explanation of your being in Kingscliff, and you aren't quite as clever at deceiving your neighbours as-as Miss Huntley seems to be. In my opinion the best thing you can do is to go back to Berwick-on-Tweed without any loss of time."

"Oh, but that's impossible, you know. One can't hit a man in the face and then run away."

"Gilbert will know where to find you, if he wants you; but the thing mustn't go any farther. You ought really to make him an apology; for everybody would tell you that you were entirely in the wrong. You may think this or that about him, but all you know for certain is that he is not going to marry Miss Greenwood because she won't marry him. You would have no right to knock a man down for that even if you had the right-which you have not-to make yourself Miss Greenwood's champion."

"If ever I apologise to him, I'll eat my hat!" Mitchell declared with much emphasis.

Brian did not insist upon the point, perceiving that it would be a pure waste of breath to do so; but, after some further discussion, he prevailed upon his pugnacious friend to go away by the night mail. Mitchell could not but admit that a public scandal, though it might be unpleasant for Gilbert, would be scarcely less so for Kitty; moreover, he was secretly alarmed lest-as he was assured would be the case-she should resent his intermeddling with what did not concern him.

"But mind," was his last injunction to Brian, who accompanied him to the station to make sure of his departure, "if your brother would like to meet me quietly any where but here, he has only to say so and I shall be very much at his service with any weapon he chooses to name, from rifles down to walking-sticks."

'TIS just like a belt of the moorland

That borders the side of the sea, With patches of corn and potatoes, With stretches of rye-grass and lea, With patches of broom and of bramole, Of hawthorn and hazel-tree.

The quaintest and queerest old houses
All lie within sound of the shore,
Their bracken-thatched roofs in the sunlight
With wild-flowers and grasses grown o'er,
With ivy and lichen-grown gables,

And crooked each window and door.