hat their neighbours were not so scrupulous. One
cruel enemy, and, what was especially untoward, a close relation, Mrs.
Felwake, own sister to Charles Nagle's dead father, often uttered it.
This lady desired her son to reign at Edgecombe; it was she who in the
last few years had spread abroad the notion that Charles Nagle, in the
public interest, should be asylumed.

In his own house, and among his own tenants, the slander was angrily
denied. When Charles was stranger, more suspicious, moodier than usual,
those about him would tell one another that "the squire was ill to-day,"
or that "the master was ailing." That he had a mysterious illness was
admitted. Had not a famous London doctor persuaded Mr. Nagle that it
would be dangerous for him to ride, even to walk outside the boundary of
his small estate,--in brief, to run any risks which might affect his
heart? He had now got out of the way of wishing to go far afield;
contentedly he would pace up and down for hours on the long terrace
which overhung the wood--talking, talking, talking, with Catherine on
his arm.

But he was unselfish--sometimes. "Take a walk, dear heart, with James,"
he would say, and then Catherine Nagle and James Mottram would go out
and make their way to some lonely farmhouse or cottage where Mottram had
estate business. Yet during these expeditions they never forgot Charles,
so Catherine now reminded herself sorely,--nay, it was then that they
talked of him the most, discussing him kindly, tenderly, as they
went....

Catherine walked quickly on, her eyes on the ground. With a feeling of
oppressed pain she recalled the last time she and Mottram had been alone
together. Bound for a distant spot on the coast, they had gone on and on
for miles, almost up to the cliffs below which lay the sea. Ah, how
happy, how innocent she had felt that day!

Then they had come to a stile--Mottram had helped her up, helped her
down, and for a moment her hand had lain and fluttered in his hand....

During the long walk back, each had been very silent; and Catherine--she
could not answer for her companion--when she had seen Charles waiting
for her patiently, had felt a pained, shamed beat of the heart. As for
James Mottram, he had gone home at once, scarce waiting for good-nights.

That evening--Catherine remembered it now with a certain comfort--she
had been very kind to Charles; she was ever kind, but she had then been
kinder than usual, and he had responded by be