nd fairness in Raye's character. He had really a tender regard
for the country girl, and it grew more tender than ever when he found her
apparently capable of expressing the deepest sensibilities in the
simplest words. He meditated, he wavered; and finally resolved to
consult his sister, a maiden lady much older than himself, of lively
sympathies and good intent. In making this confidence he showed her some
of the letters.

'She seems fairly educated,' Miss Raye observed. 'And bright in ideas.
She expresses herself with a taste that must be innate.'

'Yes. She writes very prettily, doesn't she, thanks to these elementary
schools?'

'One is drawn out towards her, in spite of one's self, poor thing.'

The upshot of the discussion was that though he had not been directly
advised to do it, Raye wrote, in his real name, what he would never have
decided to write on his own responsibility; namely that he could not live
without her, and would come down in the spring and shelve her looming
difficulty by marrying her.

This bold acceptance of the situation was made known to Anna by Mrs.
Harnham driving out immediately to the cottage on the Plain. Anna jumped
for joy like a little child. And poor, crude directions for answering
appropriately were given to Edith Harnham, who on her return to the city
carried them out with warm intensification.

'O!' she groaned, as she threw down the pen. 'Anna--poor good little
fool--hasn't intelligence enough to appreciate him! How should she?
While I--don't bear his child!'

It was now February. The correspondence had continued altogether for
four months; and the next letter from Raye contained incidentally a
statement of his position and prospects. He said that in offering to wed
her he had, at first, contemplated the step of retiring from a profession
which hitherto had brought him very slight emolument, and which, to speak
plainly, he had thought might be difficult of practice after his union
with her. But the unexpected mines of brightness and warmth that her
letters had disclosed to be lurking in her sweet nature had led him to
abandon that somewhat sad prospect. He felt sure that, with her powers
of development, after a little private training in the social forms of
London under his supervision, and a little help from a governess if
necessary, she would make as good a professional man's wife as could be
desired, even if he should rise to the woolsack. Many a Lord
Chan