e the army?"

"I--I have thought of that; but unless I returned to Sandal-Side, my
father would be angry beyond every thing."

"Fathers cannot be autocrats--quite. You might sell out."

"Julius, you ought not to suggest such a thing. The temptation has been
lurking in my own heart. I am sorry you have given it a voice. It would
be a shameful thing to do unless father were willing."

"I have a friend anxious for a commission. I should think a thousand
pounds would make an exchange."

"Do not speak on the subject, Julius."

"Very well. I was only supposing; a fellow-feeling, you know. I have
married the girl I desired; and I am sorry for a young man who is
obliged to leave a handsome mistress, and to feel that others may see
her and talk to her while he cannot. It was only a supposition. Do not
mind it."

But the germ of every wrong deed is the reflection whether it be
possible. And after Harry had gone away with the thought in his heart,
Julius sat musing over his own plans, and Sophia wrote the letter which
so unnecessarily and unkindly shadowed the pleasant life at Seat-Sandal.
For though the squire pooh-poohed it, and Charlotte professed
indifference about it, and Mrs. Sandal kept assuring herself and others
that "Harry never, never would do any thing wrong or unkind, especially
about a woman," every one was apprehensive and watchful. But at last,
even suspicion tires of watching for events that never happen; and
Sophia sent other letters, and made no mention of Harry; and the fear
that had crouched at each home-heart slunk away into forgetfulness.

Into total forgetfulness. When Harry voluntarily came home for
Christmas, no one coupled his visit with the remarks made by Sophia four
months previously. They had not expected to see him, and the news of
his advent barely reached the house before he followed it; for there was
a heavy snow-storm, and the mail was sent forward with difficulty. So
Mrs. Sandal was reading the letter announcing his visit when she heard
his voice in the hall, and the joyful cry of Charlotte as she ran to
meet him. And that night every one was too happy, too full of inquiry
and information, to notice that Harry was under an unusual restraint. It
did not even strike Charlotte until she awoke the next morning with all
her faculties fresh and clear; then she felt, rather than understood,
that there was something not quite right about Harry.

It was still snowing, and every thing was white