ead was a halo of light and rainbow tints.

Every bush was twinkling as hung with diamonds of the purest
water. Larks were trilling, pouring forth in song the ecstasy
that swelled their hearts. The sky was blue as a nemophyla, and
cloudless.

As soon as Iver and Mehetabel had issued from the fog and were
upon the heath, and in the sunshine, she stayed her feet.

"I will go no further," she said.

"Look," said he, "how the fog lies below at the bottom of the
Punch-Bowl, as though it were snow. Above, on the downs all is
sunshine."

"Yes, you go up into the light and warmth," answered she. "I must
back and down into the cold vapors, cold as death."

He thought of his dream. There was despondency in her tone.

"The sun will pierce and scatter the vapors and shine over and
warm you below."

She shook her head.

"Iver," she said, "you may tell me now we are alone. What was
your dream?"

Again he appeared disconcerted.

"Of what, of whom did you dream?"

"Of whom else could I dream but you--when under your roof," said
he with a laugh.

"Oh, Iver! and what did you dream about me?"

"Arrant nonsense. Dreams go by contraries."

"Then what about me?"

"I dreamt of your marriage."

"Then that means death."

He caught her to him, and kissed her lips.

"We are brother and sister," he said, in self-exculpation. "Where
is the harm?"

She disengaged herself hastily.

She heard a cough and looked round, to see the mocking face of
Sarah Rocliffe, who had followed and had just emerged from the
curdling fog below.

CHAPTER XVIII.

REALITIES.

Iver was gone.

The light that had sparkled in Mehetabel's eyes, the flush, like
a carnation in her cheek, faded at once. She was uneasy that Mrs.
Rocliffe had surprised her and Iver, whilst he gave her that
ill-considered though innocent parting salute.

What mischief she might make of it! How she might sow suspicion of
her in the heart of Jonas, and Iver would be denied the house!
Iver denied the house! Then she would see him no more, have no
more pleasant conversations with him. Indeed, then the cold,
clammy fog into which she descended was a figure of the life hers
would be, and it was one that no sun's rays could dissipate.

After she had returned to the house she sank in a dark comer
like one weary after hard labor, and looked dreamily before her
at the floor. Her hands and her feet were motionless.

A smile that every moment became more bitter s