"I shall come back in twelve months, and then we will be married. We have only known each other three months, and if we make it a year's courtship we shall not be called hasty, and my American journey will have some effect, perhaps, on the way we shall live, and how we shall live, and where, for that matter, seeing that I may make a great thing out of the business or I may not."

It was very painful to Susan that she had not said good-bye to her lover. She had seen him and talked with him nearly every day for a fortnight before he left, but on that last night she had not kept her appointment, and he had gone without a last parting word. She had mourned over this in secret for many days. It was Jacob Martyn's illness which brought her this trouble; it was Jacob Martyn's illness which relieved it. The extra work of the house kept her constantly employed; labour occupied her thoughts, and helped her to conquer stray doubts and fears concerning Silas Collinson's sincerity.

She was surprised, some three months after her lover's departure, to be summoned into the little room which Julius Jennings occupied as an office in the front part of Mr. Martyn's premises.

"Mester Jennings would like to have a word with you," said Tom Titsy.

"Where is he ?" asked Susan.

"In the office," said Tom; "he would like you to go to the office to him."

"Oh, indeed!" said Susan; "and what may it be about, Tom ?" "Don't know," said Tom, "but it was particular, he said." "Tell him I will come, Tom, please."

Poor Tom! he did her bidding with happy alacrity. Susan laid aside the peas she was shelling, wiped her hands upon her white apron, adjusted the linen collar round her well-shaped neck, and I went to the clerk's room.

"Good morning, Miss Harley, how do you do?" said Jennings, rubbing his hands, and leering at Susan.

"Good morning," said Susan, standing by the door.

"Hope you are well, Susan," said Jennings.

"Very well, thank you, Mr. Jennings," Susan replied; "what is it you want to see me for ?"

"I have a letter for you," said Jennings, "a letter from Mr. Collinson."

Susan blushed, and put out her hand. She did not attempt to disguise the pleasure which the information gave her.

"Thank you; give it me, Mr. Jennings," she said.

VOL. VIJI., N.S. 1872.

3 B

Jennings placed a letter in her hand, and watched her cunningly as she looked at it.

"Fine fellow, Mr. Collinson. He arrived a little later than he expected, but safe and sound, and in good spirits. Yes, that letter of yours was enclosed in one to Mr. Magar, who sent it down to me immediately. A considerate man, Mr. Magar, very considerate."

Jennings was talking as if to cover his thoughts, or prevent Susan from asking questions. He need not have troubled himself. Susan only said, "Thank you, Mr. Jennings, good morning," and hurried away with her letter.

"Does not seem at all surprised at Collinson sending the letter through Magar. That is good. I thought she would not. It is very good-very good indeed," said Jennings, apostrophising the door when it had closed upon Susan.

"I wonder how people feel when they feel sorry," he went on; "is it like toothache, or chilblains, or what? Is it like being afraid, or having no money in your pocket? I sometimes think I feel sorry, but I suppose it's a mistake. Must be a mistake; let us scratch

it out."

Jennings took up a sharp penknife and began to obliterate a figure in one of Mr. Martyn's books as if that were the mistake alluded to. While he was thus engaged, Susan Harley was sitting upon a box in her bedroom spelling out Silas Collinson's letter. It was a difficult job for Susan. She had barely received sufficient education to enable her to master printing such as she found in Jacob's books of fairy tales in the days of Mrs. Martyn. Writing was a mystery to her, but not altogether beyond translation. Susan could write a little, and in due time she made out her lover's letter. It announced his arrival, and expressed his regret at not seeing her again before he left; at the same time intimating that this was not his fault. He liked what little he had seen of the country, and would write to her again and tell her more about it. Whether he should come back or not he was uncertain, but this should be explained very soon. As he was writing to his friend Mr. Magar he sent her letter with his, and he thought this was best with regard to others, seeing that Magar would be his agent till he came home, and would transact his business. He advised Susan to see Mr. Magar when she wanted any advice, and sent her his love and best wishes for her happiness. She could write to him at the Post-office, New York, or send her letters through Mr. Magar.

Susan hardly knew whether the letter gave her pleasure or not. There was something vague about it, something cold and formal.

She did not like the letter so well as she thought she should. She derived great satisfaction from the fact of her lover's safe arrival, and she told him this in her reply-told him in her plain way; and she wished Silas would send her letters straight through the post. Of course everybody that was his friend would be hers, but she would rather Mr. Magar was anybody's friend but his. She told Silas not to work and run risks on her account, and she finished the letter with some common-place gossip about Middleton and good news of Jacob Martyn's progress towards restored health.

Julius Jennings gave Susan every information with regard to the postage to America, and offered to post the letter for her; but Susan preferred to drop it into the letter-box herself, and did so.

A few weeks afterwards there came another letter, written in a more loving spirit, and suggesting that Susan should come out to America if she still cared for the writer. Silas informed her that he had quite made up his mind not to return. He found that the business he had entered upon demanded constant attention, and in a monetary sense that he had, as he might say, hit upon a good mine. He had instructed his friend Magar to dispose of his property in England and supply her with whatever money she might require to come over. Some folk might think it strange for her to go over, but she knew him as an honest man and pledged to her, and she should not be a day on shore without being his wife.

Susan was unhappy concerning these letters. She did not at all know what to make of them. They were not the letters she had expected to receive. But Mrs. Titsy, whom she consulted about them, said they were straightforward, manly letters, and all that a young woman could desire.

They were discussing the subject when the miller called at the Titsys. He had thriven immensely of late, and Mrs. Titsy considered it an honour to see him in her cottage.

"Ah, I am glad to see you two folks together," he said, "very glad, because I have a few words to say which I should like you both to hear. My friend Collinson wants his intended wife to go out to America to be married."

"Yes, indeed, so she was just telling me," said Mrs. Titsy; "and will you sit down, Sir? though this is but a poor house to yours."

"Poor, but honest; that's the time of day, Mrs. Titsy. I am one of the people, and go in for what is straight. Hollo! Confound, beggar that dog, he's biting my leg."

"Down, Cæsar, down; how dare you!" screamed Mrs. Titsy,

striking the offending animal with a broom just as Magar kicked him with his heavy boot.

"A beast, that dog," said Magar. "I always hated him; he's a foreign brute, I know, a mongrel dam brute. Mrs. Titsy, I shall be the death of that dog if you don't keep him tied up."

Mrs. Titsy apologised, was very sorry, and begged Mr. Magar to look over the dog's bad behaviour, which with a very bad grace he consented to do by-and-by.

"Now there's no man in this town who has more respect for Miss Harley than me; I've often had thoughts of making up to her myself, and trying to cut Silas out."

"Indeed," said Susan, scornfully; "and is that what you have come here to say?"

man.

"No, Miss, it isn't; no Susan, no; I'm a plain, straightforward I've come to ask what it is your pleasure to do, as I am a sort of trustee for Mr. Collinson, and he has placed money in my hands for you. And here's a letter which I only got this morning, and he tells me that inside it he has told you what his wishes are. I am to give you one hundred pounds."

"Generous man; I always liked him," said Mrs. Titsy.

Susan only listened.

"Now, as a plain, straightforward man, I should say take the money by all means, but don't go out, not at present at all events. If a man has not enough liking for a woman to come over that drop of water and marry her in her own country, why I say he don't deserve her at all. You have my opinion, and I have told Silas the same. But it's not for me to decide in such a business. Whatever Susan wishes I am ready to carry out, but I should say don't go, and I say it in presence of a sensible woman as can advise another sensible woman; and at present that's all I've got to say. Ladies, I wish you good morning."

Taking up his hat, Mr. Ephraim Magar made an awkward bow to the two women and bowed himself to the door, and then out into the street. They caught sight of his big sinister face as he passed the window.

"A rough but good man," said Mrs. Titsy, "I am sure."

"A rough bad man," said Susan, “if ever I saw one. As for his advice, you may depend on it I shall be sure to do quite the contrary to whatever that may be."

And it came to pass that Susan acted upon this avowal. She resolved upon going out to Silas. It was no use for anyone to argue with her, she said; her mind was made up and she would go.

CHAPTER VII.

ILLUSTRATES THE OLD PROVERB ABOUT A FRIEND IN NEED.

MRS. GOMPSON had expressed herself very warmly on the impropriety of Susan's conduct in leaving England prior to her marriage, intimating that there was no knowing whether she might not be basely deceived when she arrived in New York. Men were a perfidious lot, as far as Mrs. Gompson's experience went, and she advised Susan to go out a wife or not to go at all. But Susan had placed her trust in Collinson. She gave him full credit for being as honest and true as herself. Once a woman has pledged herself to a man, in the firm belief of his love and truth, she makes a broad and liberal interpretation of the rules of propriety. It would have looked better, no doubt, in the eyes of the world, had Silas returned, married Susan, and taken her to his new home in America; but if Silas and Susan, two good, honest, faithful, and well-known respectable people, chose to arrange it that the marriage should be solemnised on the other side of the Atlantic, there was nothing in Susan's conduct upon which she need fear criticism; so Susan was determined to go. Mrs. Gompson shook her false curls, and said of course Susan might please herself; and several gossips in the neighbourhood, including a few confirmed spinsters, pitied the poor girl most assiduously.

Some weeks after the sale of Collinson's property, Susan received a note from Mr. Magar, requesting her to meet him in the afternoon of the following day at his house, to receive the money which Silas had directed him to pay to her out of the proceeds of the sale of Mr. Collinson's effects. Susan went accordingly.

Magar's was an imposing looking house, worthy of a newlymade Town Councillor, who had been returned for the central ward at the head of the poll, and one who had it in contemplation to retire from business and put himself in nomination for the Mayoralty; for Magar had thriven greatly of late, and was becoming much more circumspect in his manners, and making, it was observable to everybody, visible efforts to correct his mode of speech, and "talk fine," as the Middletonians characterised all language free from their own extraordinary dialect. Although Susan knew that before long, as Collinson's wife, she would be mistress of as fine a house as Magar's, she knocked with considerable diffidence at the well-polished door, and felt nervous when it was opened in the presence of an