"Never mind about the money, Louis. It is right, of course, that you should wish to repay it, but don't let it trouble you."

"No, I won't," said Louis; "I shall soon be able to settle it, I dare say. There will be something coming in from the Abyssinian Bank by-and-by; it can't be all lost; and if I am lucky-"

Victor stopped him at that word; but it was too evident that Louis had already ceased to feel the gravity of the situation from which he had been rescued. The debt he owed his brother seemed but a trifle, easily to be discharged, though he had absolutely nothing but his stipend to depend upon. Victor felt, however, that he could say no more upon the subject just then, and they dropped it by mutual consent.

Near their own door they were met by Tom Howard, bearing an invitation from Mrs. Beverley.

"I know what is in it," he said, "and have promised to take back an answer. You will say 'Yes,' won't you? Hurrah!"

Victor had opened the letter and was reading it. Tom had been very much afraid that he would decline the invitation; but the look of pleasure upon Victor's face as he put it down led him to a different conclusion, and he gave vent to his satisfaction in the above exclamation.

"Yes," Victor said: "yes, I will go, and you also, Louis, will you not? It will be very pleasant.'

"Hurrah!" he exclaimed again; "I said you would."

"Did anybody say the contrary?" Victor asked. "No."

"Did anybody express a doubt?"

"I hardly know; I fancied-" Tom replied, with some awkwardness and hesitation; "but I have no right to fancy for other people."

"Whom do you mean by other people?"

Tom was silent. "It does not signify," he said, at length. "Other people will be very glad to hear that you are coming. I think I will go back at once and tell them so."

"Yes," said Victor.

They both seemed anxious that there should be no delay in returning an answer; but Tom did not want to leave his friend

so soon.

"Come with me," he said.

"I think I will," Victor replied; "there is a great deal to be done at this time of the year at Mulberry Lawn. Perhaps I can be of use."

"Of course you can," said Tom. "I remember last year how busy we all were with the turkeys and pheasants and all sorts of good things, packing them and sending them to the clerks and people at the counting-house; and lots of beef and mincepies to the warehousemen. And then there was the meat and flour and things for the poor in Joan's district. You helped her with that. You went to all her houses with her, and made lists of things wanted, and copied them out I don't know how many times. I was afraid you were not going to do anything of the sort this Christmas."

"I have been very much occupied lately," Victor said, “but I shall have more leisure now. It may not be yet too late to give some assistance."

They walked on rapidly together, talking as they went, Tom Howard feeling elated at the success of his mission—a success which he had not ventured to anticipate, and could not yet understand.

"I have brought an answer," he said, entering the room in which the Beverleys were sitting, while Mr. Darville was taking off his coat in the hall.

"Yes, or no?" Miss Beverley asked, with an impatience which she did not like to betray. "Why don't you speak out, Tom?"

"Yes," said Darville, presenting himself at the door. "Yes, we shall be only too happy."

"I said I would bring him," said Tom; "but I did not, after all. He brought himself; he offered to come before I had said anything."

There was just a little feeling of shyness at first, perhaps, between Victor and his friends, but it soon passed away. Tom was so happy and so effusive that it was impossible not to yield to his genial humour. Victor had no longer any fear on his brother's account to torture him, and fell naturally into his old way with his old friends; and as for Joan, she persuaded herself that if he had appeared at all strange to her, and had seemed to neglect her, there must have been a reason for it; at all events, it was past and done with, and she could not think about it or trouble herself with it now. He was just as he had always been to her, and that was sufficient. So they passed a very pleasant evening together; and the district visiting book was brought out, and Victor and Joan sat at the table, shoulder to shoulder, making out the lists as they had done last Christmas, and the Christmas before that, and thinking that when the next Christmas came they should have, perhaps, a separate distribution of their own to make; and each knew what was in the other's thoughts; though how they managed that it might be difficult to show on scientific principles, and difficult for any one to understand who has not had experience of the same kind as theirs.

"When shall you go your rounds?" Victor asked, after the lists were completed.

Joan was not tied to a day or an hour.

"If Saturday will do," Victor suggested.

"Oh, yes; Saturday will do."

"I can come away early on Saturday and go with you.” "Yes," said Tom; "and I'll carry the basket.”

"We must have a better man than you to carry the basket," said Victor. "I'll tell young Raffage to come and help, at all events."

It was a bright, clear night when Darville took his departure. Joan followed him to the door, to look up at the stars, and lingered for a moment on the steps. There was not a cloud anywhere in the sky; it had been a gloomy, showery day, but all was now quiet and serene. Tom went to the gate to open it, and did not look back.

"Not at all like winter." Oh, Joan, I am so happy!" But, Victor, what was it

"How pleasant it is!" said Joan. "No, not at all like winter now. "Yes," she said, "and so am I. that kept you away so long? Why were you so-strange?" 'I can't tell you," he answered.

"It was not my fault?" she asked, apprehensively.

"No," he replied. "No, no, you know it was not. Do not fancy that."

"Nor yours,

I am sure?"

"I cannot even promise that," he said. "You will trust me, will you not?"

"But some day?" she said again. She did not want to know all his secrets, but she liked to think of that "some day," and to repeat the words.

"No," he answered; "I don't think I shall ever tell you; it is another man's secret, don't you see? You will be satisfied to let me keep it, won't you?"

"I shall be satisfied with everything you say or do," she answered, placing her hand in his, and looking up into his face. with perfect confidence. There was no longer even the shadow of a cloud between them now-so, at least, they thought.

CHAPTER XXIII.

AN OLD "BRADSHAW."

When I that censure him do so offend,

Let mine own judgment pattern out my death,
And nothing come in partial.-Shakespeare.

HRISTMAS was over; New Year's Day had come and gone. Term had begun at Abbotscliff. The boys came back by the latest train available on the appointed day, and found their way up to the college in groups, leaving their portmanteaus and boxes to be sent after them. Most of them appeared to be in high spirits. It might have been thought that they were glad the holidays were over. If they felt any regrets, they managed to conceal them from the public view. They talked together of the jolly time they had had at home, and of the jolly term they meant to have at school. Football and athletics were the chief things which would claim their attention this term-the school work being taken for granted: it was not necessary to talk about that. There were a few new boys, who found each other out instinctively and herded together at first; but the old fellows greeted one another noisily, if not politely, and went to their studies and other accustomed places in their respective boardinghouses with cheerful looks and not very heavy hearts. Tables were spread with substantial joints of cold meat, to which the boys could help themselves as they arrived; but most of them