olved on. He spread a sheet of paper before him, and
began his letter at once. Rachael watched him earnestly as his pen flew
over the paper.

For the first time she realized, with a pang of apprehension, the step
she was so blindly encouraging. What if Lord Hope took offense at the
letter, or should condemn her for the intimacy which had led to it? She
was afraid of her husband, and each movement of Hepworth's pen struck
her with dread. Had she, indeed, laid herself open to the wrath of a
man, who was so terrible in his anger, that it made even her brave heart
cower?

"There, it is finished," said Hepworth, addressing his letter, and
flinging down the pen. "Now let us throw aside care, and be happy as we
can till the answer comes."

Lady Hope sighed heavily, and, reaching forth her hand, bade him
good-night.

CHAPTER III.

LOVER'S QUARREL.

They were sitting together, under the great cedar tree, declared lovers;
perhaps not the less happy because some little doubt rested over their
future, so far as the young lady was concerned.

As for Hepworth Closs, he had made up his mind to expect difficulties,
and knew how to conquer them, if human ingenuity could do it. He loved
the bright young creature, and had resolved within himself that no
unreasonable opposition on the part of his former friend should prevent
him marrying her, while there was a possibility of conciliating his
bride, or working upon the love which he had always evinced for his
child.

Hepworth had learned, from conversation with both the ladies, that the
Lord Hope of the present day was a very different person from the rash,
headstrong, audacious young man whom he had almost threatened with
disgrace fourteen years back.

Then he was ready to cast wealth, rank, conscience, everything, aside
for the gratification of any wild passion that beset him. Now he held
the rank to which he was born sacred above all things; was careful, if
not covetous, of wealth, because it added power to rank; and was known
the whole country round as one of the proudest noblemen and most
punctilious magistrates in the three kingdoms.

This man's daughter he--Hepworth Closs--desired to make his wife. Nay,
in spite of fate, meant to make his wife, unless she, in her own self,
cast his love from her. Having settled upon this, he cast off all care,
and gave himself up to the supreme happiness of loving and being
beloved.

So, as the two sat under the cedar tree, th