a younger and prettier girl, Mina would have more readily acquiesced; but Mary Van Stein was older than Otto, and neither pretty nor clever. Otto's preference was, therefore, a still greater grievance, and gave Mina a feeling of personal injury, which, however, strange to say, she laid to the account more of Mary than of Otto.

But, in fact, Otto himself would have had some difficulty in saying what had attracted him so much in Mary. Was it her goodness and gentleness? was it the refinement of her clear understanding? or was it all these, combined with the simplicity and calmness of her whole nature? He did not know himself how it came about. At first he had looked up to her with a feeling of respect and admiration, for he had so often observed her gentleness and patience in her intercourse with her father, and gradually a warmer feeling was awakened in his breast-it was not love, at least not a passion full of the glow of youth: it was a sensation of pleasure in her presence-a kind of tranquillity and peace of mind, which he found in the steady interchange of thought with that pure, calm woman's heart, and which exercised a refreshing, hallowing influence over him.

On a certain day the thought came to him that Mary would be par excellence the woman to make a husband happy, and when he was alone with her one evening he had asked her whether she would be his wife as soon as his income should admit of his offering her a home.

She looked at him openly and simply, whilst she said

'I had never ventured to hope that you would become attached to me, Otto: I did not think that domestic happiness was in store for me. Are you quite sure that you love me, and that you will never repent of your choice? Have you reflected well, that I am ugly, and

older than you, and that I shall be comparatively an old woman, when you are in the prime of life?'

For me you will always be pretty, dearest Mary,' Otto had replied. 'I love you for your good, noble heart, and in my eyes you are more beautiful than any woman I know.'

Thus she had then given him her promise.

That same evening Otto spoke to her father, who would not, however, hear of any formal betrothal. 'I cannot spare Mary,' he said. Wait till I am better. There must be no talk of a marriage yet. I know how it always is with an engagement. Half the town will come and disturb my rest with their congratulations and folly, and Mary must go out with you the whole day to pay visits. I have nothing to say against you, Otto, and you can come here as often as you like, but I will not hear of an engagement. Mary must herself be aware that my condition is not such as to allow of this being discussed. But she is always thinking only of herself, and her sick father is only an incumbrance; that I have long known.'

They were obliged to be content with his answer. This had happened a few months ago; so from that day Otto came every evening to spend a few hours with Mary, and to bear with her the fancies and whims of his uncle. He sometimes brought a book with him to read aloud-at least whenever Mr Van Stein was well enough, or imagined himself to be well enough, to listen.

Sometimes, when Mary's cheeks were paler than usual, and Otto saw that she wanted fresh air, he would walk with her in the garden, and even take her for an hour to his father's house; and when with her he poured out to her all the thoughts which the past day had suggested. He told her of his business, of the causes he would have

to plead, and of the qutions brought for his opinion. He spoke of the books he had read, and built castles in the air with her for the future. What these evenings spent in Otto's society were to Mary it would be hard to describe. Otto's love was her star in the night. The hope of the future by his side supported her in the difficult path of life which she had to tread.

In the future she saw the full compensation for her joyless youth. I could hardly have ventured to expect you the first evening after Emmy's arrival, Otto,' said Mary, as they were sitting together at tea.

'On that account I am later than usual. I long for you to know my dear little sister; I have told her the news, and she will come very soon and pay you a visit,' Otto added, in a low voice, audible only to Mary.

'You still recollect Emmy, uncle?' he said, somewhat louder; but Uncle Van Stein was not in the humour to think him worthy of an answer.

'I don't know why you are not reading something to me, Otto,' he said, in the peevish tone which had become habitual to him. Mary knows that my head cannot bear this chattering between you to-day. If she would rather go into the garden with you, don't let me hinder you. I am sure I can make my own tea, as well as Mary makes it, for this weak stuff I can't drink.'

Otto had before promised Mary never to be angry with the cross humours of her father; but he felt his blood grow warm at such injustice as this. He bit his lips to restrain himself.

'Shall we take a little turn in the garden, Mary?' he asked.

But Mary laid her hand on his arm, and looking at him, said

'No, Otto; rather read something, if you will.'

The gentle persuasion of her voice and look I cannot give in writing. Otto's anger melted away like snow before the sun. He took the hand, which rested on his arm, pressed a kiss on it, and opened a book which lay before him.

A good hour afterwards Mary led him through the long passage to the front door.

'We have had little of each other this evening, dear Mary,' said Otto, as he took leave of her. I wanted to tell you that I am summoned to Beckley by Mr Arnold.'

Is it possible, Otto ?' said Mary, smiling. So you I will be able to enter the fortress. That will make a pleasant story for to-morrow evening, which I shall look forward to with pleasure.'

A moment more, and they had reached the threshold of the front door. The moon shone in the broad street almost with the light of day, the stars twinkled in the clear sky; it was a magnificent summer night.

'How gloriously fresh it is outside here, Otto!' said Mary; what a splendid moonlight!'

She put her face up towards him, and he was struck with its paleness and weariness.

'Dear child!' he said, earnestly, 'I fear your task is too hard for you.'

'It is light, since I have had you to help me to bear it, dear Otto. It will be better hereafter,' she added, with a gentle smile; but yet a tear glistened in her eye as she wished him good night.

IT

CHAPTER IV.

BECKLEY AND ITS INHABITANTS.

T was hardly three years since Otto Welters had established himself as an advocate in his native place, and he had already made his name known by conducting two or three lawsuits to a successful issue. His success, coupled with the favourable circumstance that an old advocate, who had in his hands the principal practice of the place, just at that particular time was compelled by illness to retire, had destroyed the prejudice with which a young man who settles in his native place has most frequently to contend, and doubly so when that native place is a small town. People know that he has gone through his studies and degrees, and they hear it asserted that he is clever; but they have seen him as a schoolboy, with his hoops and his marbles, and recollect, as if it were but yesterday, how he was running about in jacket and trousers; and they cannot make the recollection consistent with the idea of the advocate who is to plead their cause, or the doctor who is to cure them. It is recollection, then, which prevents a prophet from being speedily honoured in his own country. It chanced, however, that the commune of Dilburg had got into a lawsuit with the commune of Trello about a piece of land near their common boundary, and that Otto had pleaded the cause of his native place, and won it. It chanced, also, that a puffed-up landed proprietor, whom no one could endure, had injured the property of a poor widow by the building of a barn, and Otto's defence of the rights thus invaded had resulted, to the satisfaction of every one, in the demolition of the barn; but last, and best of all,

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