arry is to have Latrigg Hall when it is finished,
I hear."

"Really? Is that so? Are you sure?"

"Harry is to have the new hall, and all of old Latrigg's gold and
property."

"Julius, would it not be better to try and get around Harry? We could
stay with him. I cannot endure Calcutta, and I always did like Harry."

"And I always detested him. And he always detested me. No, my sweet
Sophia, there is really nothing for us but a decent lodging-house on the
shady side of the Chowringhee Road. My father can give me a post in
'The Company,' and I must get as many of its rupees as I can manage. Go
through the old rooms, and bid them farewell, my soul. We shall not come
back to Seat-Sandal again in this chapter of our eternity." And with a
mocking laugh he turned away to make his own preparations.

"But why go in the night, Julius? You said to-night at eleven o'clock.
Why not wait until morning?"

"Because, beloved, I owe a great deal of money in the neighborhood.
Stephen can pay it for me. I have sent him word to do so. Why should we
waste our money? We have done with these boors. What they think of us,
what they say of us, shall we mind it, my soul, when we drive under the
peopuls and tamarinds at Barrackpore, or jostle the crowds upon the
Moydana, or sit under the great stars and listen to the tread of the
chokedars? All fate, Sophia! All fate, soul of my soul! What is
Sandal-Side? Nothing. What is Calcutta? Nothing. What is life itself, my
own one? Only a little piece out of something that was before, and will
be after."

* * * * *

Who that has seen the Cumberland moors and fells in July can ever forget
them?--the yellow broom and purple heather, the pink and white waxen
balls of the rare vacciniums, the red-leaved sundew, the asphodels, the
cranberries and blueberries and bilberries, and the wonderful green
mosses in all the wetter places; and, above and around all, the great
mountain chains veiled in pale, ethereal atmosphere, and rising in it as
airy and unsubstantial as if they could tremble in unison with every
thrill of the ether above them.

It was thus they looked, and thus the fells and the moors looked, one
day in July, eighteen months after the death of Squire William
Sandal,--his daughter Charlotte's wedding-day. From far and near, the
shepherd boys and lasses were travelling down the craggy ways, making
all the valleys ring to their wild and simple songs, and ever and