sweet love that had once been his.

His horse was standing ready saddled. 'Osttler Bill opened the
yard-gate, and lifted the lantern above his head, and watched him ride
slowly away down the lane. When he had gone far enough to drown the
clatter of the hoofs he put the creature to his mettle, and Bill waved
the lantern as a farewell. Then, as it was still dark, he went back to
the stable and lay down to sleep until the day broke, and the servants
began to open up the house.

When Harry reached Ambleside it was quite light, and he went to the
Salutation Inn, and ordered his breakfast. He had been a favorite with
the landlady all his life long, and she attended to his comfort with
many kindly inquiries and many good wishes. "And what do you think now,
Capt. Sandal? Here has been a man from Up-Hill with a letter for you."

"Is he gone?"

"That he is. He would not wait, even for a bite of good victuals. He was
dryish, though, and I gave him a glass of beer. Then him and his little
Galloway took themselves off, without more words about it. Here it is,
and Mr. Latrigg's writing on it or I wasn't christened Hannah Stavely."

Harry opened it a little anxiously; but his heart lightened as he
read,--

DEAR HARRY,--If you show the enclosed slip of paper to
your old friend Hannah Stavely, she will give you a hundred pounds
for it. That is but a little bit of the kindness in mother's heart
and mine for you. At Seat-Sandal I will speak up for you always,
and I will send you a true word as to how all gets on there. God
bless the squire, and bring you and him together again!

Your friend and brother,

STEPHEN LATRIGG.

And so Harry went on his way with a lighter heart. Indeed, he was not
inclined at any time to share sorrow out of which he had escaped. Every
mile which he put between himself and Sandal-Side gave back to him
something of his old gay manner. He began first to excuse himself, then
to blame others; and in a few hours he was in very comfortable relations
with his own conscience; and this, not because he was deliberately cruel
or wicked, but because he was weak, and loved pleasure, and considered
that there was no use in being sorry when sorrow was neither a credit to
himself, nor a compliment to others. And so to Italy and to love he sped
as fast as money and steam could carry him. And on the journey he did
his very best to put out of his memory the large, lonely, gray "Seat