third lamp-post? Graham, as he sat with the letters before him, made all manner of excuses for her; and this he did the more eagerly, because he felt that he would have willingly made this affair a cause for breaking off his engagement, if his conscience had not told him that it would be unhandsome in him to do so.

When Augustus came he could not show the letters to him. Had he done so it would have been as much as to declare that now the coast was clear as far as he was concerned. He could not now discuss with his friend the question of Mary Snow, without also discussing the other question of Madeline Staveley. So he swept the letters away, and talked almost entirely about the Orley Farm case.

'I only wish I were thought good enough for the chance,' said Augustus. 'By heavens! I would work for that woman as I never could work again for any fee that could be offered me.'

'So would I; but I don't like my fellow-labourers.'

'I should not mind that.'

'I suppose,' said Graham, 'there can be no possible doubt as to her absolute innocence?'

'None whatever. My father has no doubt. Furnival has no doubt. Sir Peregrine has no doubt,—who, by-the-by, is going to marry her.'

'Nonsense!'

'Oh, but he is though. He has taken up her case con amore with a vengeance.'

'I should be sorry for that. It makes me think him a fool, and her—a very clever woman.'

And so that matter was discussed, but not a word was said between them about Mary Snow, or as to that former conversation respecting Madeline Staveley. Each felt then there was a reserve between them; but each felt also that there was no way of avoiding this. 'The governor seems determined that you sha'n't stir yet awhile,' Augustus said as he was preparing to take his leave.

'I shall be off in a day or two at the furthest all the same,' said Graham.

'And you are to drink tea down stairs to-night. I'll come and fetch you as soon as we're out of the dining-room. I can assure you that your first appearance after your accident has been duly announced to the public, and that you are anxiously expected.' And then Staveley left him.

So he was to meet Madeline that evening. His first feeling at the thought was one of joy, but he soon brought himself almost to wish that he could leave Noningsby without any such meeting. There would have been nothing in it,—nothing that need have called for observation or remark,—had he not told his secret to Augustus. But his secret had been told to one, and might be known to others