swallowed him. Then, recollecting Dayrell's account of Sybil and how he amused himself with her, she determined to try her hand on Sir Gilbert in the same way.

"If I liked some one better than all the world I might be able, perhaps, to confess my sins to him." "He would be a very lucky person. I should uncommonly like to know the sort of man you would care for."

I should not care for a man unless he was very clever, and could tell me everything I wanted to know. Then I should like him to be good at all kinds of games and sports. Are you fond of games?"

"Well, you know, I am getting very old now," Sir Gilbert replied with a grin, which was intended to contradict his statement. "I used to play cricket a good deal at Eton; but at Cambridge I went in more for boating and racquets. And of late years I have devoted my time to music."

"Yes; I heard you were a great musician."

"I am fond of music; and I think I may say, without vanity, that I can hold my own with most professionals."

"Are you fond of sport?"

"I have tried all kinds of sport. Fox-hunting in England; deer-stalking in Scotland; salmon-fishing in Norway; whaling in the Arctic; pig-sticking in India; elephant-shooting in Ceylon; kangaroo-hunting in Australia; ostrich-hunting and lion-shooting in South Africa."

"Why, Sir Gilbert, you quite take my breath away. What is there you have not done?"

"Well, I think there are very few things I have not done in my time," replied Sir Gilbert, smiling, pleased beyond measure at Vita's unquestioning belief in his statements.

As it was nearly time for luncheon, they rejoined the others, and the worthy host immediately singled out Lady Raymond, and paid her a good deal of attention, to make amends for his absence with Vita.

The lunch was a most elaborate affair, laid out in a delightful nook of the ruined Abbey, with hot entrées, iced champagne, etc., and served by men in livery, who looked very much out of place amidst those surroundings.

When the meal was over, Dayrell noticed for the first time a passage in the wall, some height above the ground, leading towards a tower.

"Where does that passage lead to, Sir Gilbert?" he asked.

Upon my word I don't know," answered the baronet after a pause. "I never observed that it was

a passage until you drew my attention to it."

"Then here goes for finding out!" said Dayrell, jumping up, and climbing, with the agility of a cat, the broken masonry at the end of the wall, followed shortly after by Tom.

"Are you not curious to know its destination? asked Vita of Sir Gilbert. "Perhaps you may discover some hidden treasure."

She really was anxious to get rid of him, and spoke in rather a careless way, which the baronet interpreted as casting a doubt on his activity.

Tom and Dayrell had climbed the wall with such apparent ease, that Sir Gilbert thought he would have but little difficulty in following them. The ascent was not easy, but Sir Gilbert was fairly active for his years, and surmounted the obstacle. When he reached the top of the wall he found Tom and Dayrell awaiting him. They ran along the narrow summit without a sensation of giddiness or thought of danger. Sir Gilbert followed them, being encouraged by their presence.

They passed through the narrow aperture, and found a staircase built in the thickness of the wall, which they commenced to ascend. Some of the steps were missing altogether, many were partly broken, and it was nearly dark, but they continued their ascent, stumbling, laughing, and making light of their difficulties.

Presently they came to a breach, where the staircase ended. It did not quite reach to the summit of the tower, two sides of which only were standing, but was flush with the top of the broken-down walls.

As the party below were on the opposite side of the tower to that they emerged from, Tom, who was leading, walked along the crumbling wall until he brought them in view; he was followed by Dayrell and Sir Gilbert Caldecott. The latter was out of breath, and giddy. He shouted to those below, and waved his pocket-handkerchief to attract their notice, then suddenly reeled and fell forward, clutching at Dayrell's legs to save himself. Fortunately, Dayrell had detected his unsteadiness. He immediately sank down on his knees, and caught Sir Gilbert in his arms, thus preventing him from slipping over the edge.

The scene was watched with breathless interest by those on terra firma.

"What the devil are we to do?" asked Dayrell of

Tom.

"Hold on a minute," replied the latter, "and I will lend you a hand."

He stepped over Dayrell, and stood for a few seconds across the prostrate form of the baronet, in doubt what to do. Then, stooping down, he picked his body up, and throwing it over his shoulder, walked along the wall towards the staircase as steadily as if he were on the green sward below. He never stopped until he reached the broken end of the wall by which they had first ascended, then, turning to Dayrell, he said:

"I don't think I can manage him down here by myself. Do you go on first, and, directly you arrive at a place where there is any decent sort of footing, wait there and I will pass him down to you."

With sundry shifts and changes they slowly worked Sir Gilbert down, and at last laid him on the grass at the bottom.

It was strange the different manner in which each of the onlookers behaved. Lord Raymond wiped the perspiration from his forehead and exclaimed: "My God, I would not go through the last five minutes of my life for £5,000."

The Countess burst into tears, and became rather hysterical.

Vita said nothing; but walked up to Tom and slipped her hand in his, a more eloquent way of expressing her feelings than a torrent of words.

Mrs. Forbes walked quickly in the direction of the place where the servants had retired, to acquaint them of the accident which had befallen their master.

While Sybil, who had stood pale, silent, and breathless while the anxiety lasted, rushed off to the luncheontable directly all danger was over, and, getting a finger-glass of water, she dipped her handkerchief into it, and, seating herself on the ground, lifted Sir Gilbert's head on to her lap and commenced bathing his forehead.

In a few minutes his consciousness returned, and, though still feeling faint and ill, he was able to walk back to the house with the assistance of one of the servants.

The accident had cast a gloom over the party, and they all took their departure as soon as they heard that Sir Gilbert was in a fair way of recovery.

Tom and Dayrell were sitting together smoking that evening after the others had retired, when the latter said: "It struck me as a deuced funny thing this afternoon the way that girl Sybil Challenger bathed that chap's head."

"So it did me. I liked her for it, and thought that with all her affectation and vanity she had a good heart."

"You've got a good heart yourself, Tom, and it does you credit. I did not think the same as you at all. I thought she did it either for effect or because she is spoony on the man, or that she wants to make

me.

him spoony. There was another thing that amused After he came round and saw who was bathing his head, I overheard him call her 'carissima,' which seemed putting it rather strong."

Tom recollected the extraordinary sight he had witnessed at The Beacon, of Sir Gilbert drying Sybil's eyes, and, for a second, he felt inclined to tell Dayrell; but he knew the latter would let it out again. So he kept the secret, merely remarking: "You don't like the girl!"

"I don't think she is up to much. I would not trust her as far as I could heave her; besides, Vita does not like her, and I would back her opinion against the world."

As the latter was a sentiment in which Tom agreed, he did not discuss the subject further, and shortly after they said "Good-night.'

CHAPTER XXXI.

A RESUSCITATED GHOST

For contemplation he and valour formed,
For softness she and sweet attractive grace.

Paradise Lost.

THE life at Marston Towers was at this time most pleasant, owing, in a great measure, to Lord Rupert Dayrell, who was always light-hearted, amusing, and cheerful. He even managed to draw Mr. Marston from his accustomed retirement, and insisted upon his joining them in some of their amusements, and, at last, got him to take part in a cricket match, whichwas held, in conjunction with some athletic sports, on a level piece of ground in front of Marston Towers, on the opposite side of the river.

Needless to say that the change of life was most