an irresolute man, hastening to the fulfilment of a determination he fears to be diverted from. He was a handsome young fellow enoughtall, and well-set-with classic features, enhanced by the matchless beauty of intellect. But there was a look of desperation and of illhumour on his face, that marred its normal attractions. The man was, evidently, out of temper with himself; and such a man as he looked could scarcely be so without sufficient cause. He was clearly bent upon something he was ashamed of. He was dressed in a plain suit of black, was closely shaven, and (as has been already stated) wore spectacles and carried a blue bag. But he never looked through the spectacles-always under or over them, while the porterage of the bag gave him obvious inconvenience. It might be seen that he was not used to the exercise. "A moment, Thomas! Explain the process of tilting ?" "Don't you know that the beast-call him man I won't any longer-has got a bullet right over his heart-leastways the bullet 's there; I won't be answerable for the heart?" "Calm yourself, Thomas, and don't be funny. Of course, I know all about the Major's wound. Haven't they got at the bullet yet ?" "Not they! Catch him letting them, do anything of the sort. He'd have to behave something like a reasonable being, if they got him out of that scrape. It's his excuse, that bullet is, for making everybody miserable about him. The doctors say the least movement might be fatal. Well, do you suppose I can stand seeing him go on as he does knowing that by just TILTING him out of his easy chair-pretending it was accident, of course-I could rid society of a nuisance? I ought to do it; only I don't want to have it on my conscience. He nearly got it just now for bullying Miss Brown; and he 'll have it yet, if I stop another day on the premises? So I'd better hook it at once." "Don't be in a hurry, Thomas. Let us turn the corner. But first tell me who is Miss Brown ?" He hurried on till he reached Esher-one of the few really beautiful old English villages that remain (at all events, within easy access of our metropolis) uncontaminated by the smoke of railways. The quiet loveliness of the village made no more impression on him than the barrenness of the heath he had just traversed. He turned abruptly into a lane leading from the high road, and stopped in front of a small rose-covered "Hospital nurse. Saved his life in the Crimea cottage an edifice that might have been con--I don't say that that entitles her to the structed for a working-man's abode, but which Victoria medal-and now she's come back, voluna few trifling indications of neatness and teers to attend on him, understanding his comelegance proved to be in the occupation of plaint. No accounting for tastes! Wages not people belonging to what we, who are privileged so much an object as a comfortable home. Hope to read, write, and lie late in the mornings, are she's got it. A mopy sort of a woman, and pleased to term "the superior classes." what you may call distant. Wants affability with fellow-servants; but gives no trouble; and I can't abide to see her put upon by him and her." This was Rose Cottage. The young man touched the handle of the gate-bell, and then stood hesitating-looking more ashamed of himself than ever. He did not ring the bell. He bit his lips, muttered a few words to himself, and seemed on the point of abandoning his resolution at the last moment, when (as will be the case in most critical situations) accident determined his course for him. A red-faced, middle-aged man, wearing a striped linen jacket and regimental trousers, cramming his head wrathfully into a footman's cockaded hat, rushed out of the house in a violent state of excitement-nearly oversetting our traveller, as the latter stood coquetting with the gate-bell. "I beg your pardon, sir," said the excited individual, "but don't stop me, please. It ain't safe. I'm flying from temptation, I am." "Why, Thomas! what's the matter? you know me ?" Don't What "My eye! Mr. Alfred, is that you? have you been and done with your beard?" "Disposed of it, Thomas-for a consideration. Never mind that. What's the matter?" "The old game, sir. I'm being pushed on to it every hour I stop in the place. I shall tilt him yet." Tilt him! whom do you mean? the Major ?" "That's the man, or rather the beast, sir. Cut and run is the only escape from it. I must go. If you stop me you must take the share of his blood on your head, and much good may it do you." "Who is her,' Thomas ?" 66 'I Why, the Lieutenant-Colonel, of course, and be blowed to her." "I am not acquainted with the female officer in question, Thomas. Who is she?" "His unmarried sister. Come here since your ime, I think." "But why Lieutenant-Colonel ?" "Oh! a bit of fun, that is. Some of our fellows came over from Aldershott, and I was allowed to see them in the kitchen (about all I was allowed to treat 'em with), and one of the rum 'uns nick-named her the Lieutenant-Colonel, because we agreed she was a grade above the Major. A scaly lot." "All right, sir; name them. I'm your man, for you are a gentleman, you are." "In the first place, pocket your grievances and this." "This" represented a crown-piece, which Thomas discreetly slipped into his waistcoat, winking playfully as he did so. The grievances of Thomas were evidently not very deeply seated. He was by no means an implacablelooking man, this Thomas. He had a goodhumoured, bottle-nosed countenance that seemed to have been detached from a picture by Teniers. You could perceive that he had served in the army; but there was little indication of military stiffness in his appearance, if we except the in flexible fabric of his black trousers and a rather dangerous sort of stock for a man with an obvious predisposition to apoplexy. Viewed as a warrior, Thomas suggested thoughts of the canteen rather than of the tented field: the corkscrew, not the bayonet, would seem to have been his favourite weapon. On the present occasion, it is more than probable that his contemplated scheme of desertion would have carried him no farther than the nearest ale-house. With the receipt of the crown-piece every trace of disaffection vanished from his countenance. "As many favours of that kind as you please, Mr. Thorne," he said. "What's the next to be ?" "In the first place, I should tell you that I am no longer Mr. Thorne." "You surprise me, sir!" said Thomas, with imperturbable gravity-" and who may you have got to be by this time ?" "I have accepted the situation of Mr. Rowcroft's confidential clerk." Thomas elevated his eyebrows, and whistled. "Don't expect to be congratulated on that promotion, I hope, sir! Rather a drop towards the ranks, ain't it ?" "You don't quite comprehend me, Thomas. I will explain. You know Mr. Dowser ?" "Swipy gent from Rowcroft's! Yes, I should think I knew him." "Then you know a martyr, Thomas. I met that afflicted man this morning in a dreadful state of suffering." "Old complaint, I suppose?" Thomas inquired, raising his hand to his mouth, and imitating the act of drinking, with the skill of a practised artist. "A very bad attack of it indeed. He was coming here from Rowcroft's on business of the greatest importance, when he was taken dreadfully ill. Just then I met him. In a spirit of unsolicited confidence, peculiar to patients suffering from his disorder-he volunteered to tell me all the particulars of the business he'd been despatched upon. It was business of great interest to me. And as the poor gentleman was not in a fit state to transact it himself, I easily persuaded him to let me take his place. So I've borrowed his bag and spectacles, altered my face as you have observed, and now you understand all about it. So look sharp and announce me as a gentleman from Rowcroft's. That's my five shillings-worth. No name mind." Thomas looked exceedingly grave, and shook his head reprovingly. "Mr. Alfred, it's no go. You might have known it. You've been and sacrificed an uncommon fine beard, and imposed on a helpless party for nothing. I couldn't do it. It's more than my place is worth." "That can't amount to much, I should say, in the present circumstances of the family. Besides, who's to know me ?" "Well I didn't at first, to be sure; but then, I was flustered at the time. But they'll find you out in a brace of shakes, depend upon it." "Who? I don't want to meet the Major !" "Few people do, as I know of; except, perhaps, here and there a creditor. But the Lieutenant-Colonel's as sharp as a needle." "I have told you the lady and myself are per. fect strangers." 66 "Well, then! there's Miss Clara; she 'll know you of course. But I suppose you want her to ?" 'Precisely. It is just for a few moments' interview with her that I have taken all this trouble." Thomas reflected a few moments, and then said "I'll chance it. I daresay I shall get my discharge for it, but I'm not particularly attached to the service. The Lieutenant-Colonel's too much for me, and the temptation to tilt that beast out of his chair, and bring on his shock Whew!" Thomas stopped as if struck by an alarming inspiration. "Talking about that, suppose he finds us out, and gets into one of his tantrums ?" "Let him get out of it again." "But it might bring on the shock, you know; and that would be as bad, every bit, as tilting him-would it not?" "A soldier, and afeard, Thomas ?" said the young man, in a bantering tone. 'Why it is not exactly fear, sir,"-here the small eyes of Thomas twinkled roguishly. "But suppose the awful event was to come off?" "What then? though I don't believe in its possibility." "Well, the wear and tear of conscience, agonies of remorse, and all that-you wouldn't think a poor fellow properly paid at five shillings, would you ?" "Thomas, you are an extortionate villain! Here's another half-crown to cover all emergencies. And now look sharp. Step this way, sir," said Thomas, in a loud voice, as they approached the cottage. "I don't think you'll be able to see the Major; but Miss Gaveston's in, and Miss Clara." Here Mr. Alfred Thorne was left to his own reflections. They were not pleasant ones, being of the self-reproachful order. It is not the custom for English gentlemen, off the stage, to think aloud. The late good Duke of Cambridge attempted to introduce the practice, by his example at places of public amusement and elsewhere. It had a pleasing effect upon the lips of royalty. But somehow or other, whether from timidity or want of appreciation, the British public (out of the lunatic asylums) were back. ward in adopting the notion, and continued to hold their tongues when alone much as heretofore. So that when I give you the following as a soliloquy by Mr. Alfred Thorne, you will be pleased to understand that it is a mere editorial digest of that gentleman's reflections, and not a verbatim report of an oartion actually delivered by him to the chairs, ottomans, and chimney ornaments of Rose Cottage. "Why on earth did I venture on this mad freak?" the young gentleman inquired of himself. "Because I was determined not to live another day without seeing Clara on some pretext or other, and jumped at the readiest. Will that do for a reason? Not very well, I am afraid. I have an instinctive knowledge that, after this, I must consent to live a great many days without hoping for a repetition of that pleasure that is, if the kind of existence I lead deserves to be called living. Because, though all is over between us,-I could not deny myself the pleasure of being the first to bring the news of her unexpected good fortune? Sophistry-number two. My afflicted friend Dowser, in his worst condition, would have given far less pain than my presence will. Let me see: I had another excuse-quite a consoling one-as I came along. What was it? I remember. It was to ascertain, by her manner of receiving the news, whether or not, the barrier of poverty being removed, there would be any hope of a renewal of Bah! a reprobate turned fortune-hunter! a very pretty recommendation! There is only one solution of the problem. I am here because I was a headstrong, selfish, dissipated, unreflecting idiot." "The testator, her relation, appears to have thought not, but, on the contrary, that there had been some injustice and misrepresentation, which—" "That is quite sufficient. My niece Clara then will inherit this money?" "As her late mother's heiress-naturally." "She is just eighteen-" "On the twenty-fourth of last month." "How do you know that ?" the LieutenantColonel asked sharply. Mr. Thorne felt grateful for the protection of his spectacles. The scrutinizing gaze of this particularly commanding officer was formidable. "Ahem!-I don't know-I suppose I must have picked it up at the office." Miss Gaveston looked him down cruelly for a few seconds, and resumed : "Would not my brother, as his daughter's natural guardian, have the control of her fortune, until she came of age ?" Mr. Thorne found the atmosphere of Rose Cottage growing very hot indeed. "Well-I really am not sure-I should say there would be executors or official assignees, or something of the kind appointed—as is usual.” Miss Gaveston looked at him contemptuously for a moment, and turned from him towards the bell-pull, saying in a chilling voice, "You are not Mr. Rowcroft's clerk. Who you are I will soon ascertain." Alfred Thorne felt very sorry he had met It is not impossible that Mr. Thorne may with his afflicted friend Dowser that morning. have been right in his conclusion. At any rate At this moment a pair of folding doors, at the he had no time to re-consider it, for a door back of the apartment, were slowly and noiseopened, and he found himself, bowing and ter-lessly opened. Miss Gaveston made a movement ror-stricken, in the formidable presence of the of vexation, dropped the bell-handle, and Lieutenant-Colonel. whispered hurriedly to her visitor, Α There was no mistaking the identity. handsome queen-like woman of some thirtyseven years of age, but looking like a queen whose subjects have burnt down her palace, stopped her supplies, and soured her temper. "Looks the dignity, every inch of it," thought the visitor. "I wish I was well out of this." "From Mr. Rowcroft's office, I believe ?" the lady inquired, with a scarcely perceptible bend of the neck. "Silence! they are bringing my brother this way. You may have heard of the danger apprehended from a violent shock to him. I will make some excuse to get rid of you." A very pleasant situation, indeed," thought Alfred Thorne. The folding doors were opened to their full width, and two women appeared, wheeling an invalid's chair in which a sick man was dozing. This was of course the Major Gaveston of whom "I am, Madam, as this letter will inform you." we have heard so much. He was wrapped in "On no unpleasant business, I trust ?" flannels and dressing gowns. Little was per"On the contrary-I am happy to say." ceptible of him but a cruel handsome faceMiss Gaveston took the letter, and sat down the very counterpart of his sister's-save that majestically to read it, leaving the bearer stand-it bore deeper traces of age, suffering, disaping. (You see he carried a blue bag in his hand, and was supposed to be only a clerk.) pointment, and wickedness. His attendants were a prim, pinched looking woman, of no clearly discernible age-dressed in a nun-like costume of black and white; and a lovely girl of seventeen-tall, slight, goldenhaired, and wide-browed. The prim nun-like woman was Miss Brown, the nurse. The girl was Clara Gaveston. They wheeled their helpless charge gently towards the open window. They performed their mutual task with equal care and adroitness, but apparently in very different spirits. The young girl was evidently accomplishing a labour of the most anxious love; with the nurse, it was seemingly a matter of the most uninteresting routine duty. But there was no expression in her face to tell you that or anything else. Miss Brown "Clara-Miss Gaveston-believe me"If you have taken this step to prove to me how unworthy you are of esteem or regret," said Clara, with a visible effort, "I must thank you." "I have deserved this," Alfred said, bowing to take his departure. "Madam-" Miss Gaveston stopped him, and pointing to the letter he had brought, asked, "Am I to understand that this is a fabrication?" "No-it is real. The clerk who should have brought it, agreed, for a mere thoughtless frolic-" "Enough. His master shall hear of it. Good evening." "A thoughtless frolic," said Clara, turning away with a bitter sigh; "he is changed indeed!" "You are talking to a man, there," growled the Major from his chair. "Who is it?' "Merely a tradesman, brother: some instructions I had to give-" "Don't tell me a lie. He has a lawyer's bag in his hand. From Rowcroft's is he?" "No-yes-." "Are there any more writs out?" "Nothing of the kind. The young man was merely sent by his employer to say your business is going on satisfactorily, and to inquire after your health-that is all. Knowing how the mere mention of legal business irritates you, we would not disturb you." 66 to her, displaying extreme excitement as she did so. Miss Gaveston regarded the woman with astonishment. "Pray attend to your patient, nurse," said she, with some asperity. "My niece requires no assistance from you." "I beg your pardon, Ma'rm, I'm sure, for the liberty," said Miss Brown, suddenly becalmed, and retiring with a very humble curtsy. Clara Gaveston recovered without assistance, as all sensible girls who are weak enough to give way to fainting fits (as they may be permitted to do on trying emergencies only) will always make haste to do. Miss Brown stood behind the Major's chair rubbing her elbows, and gazing at vacancy. "Either that woman is insane or she drinks," said Miss Gaveston to herself. Miss Brown looked more immovable than ever. Rubbing her elbows, and bathing her patient's forehead from time to time, seemed to occupy the whole of her attention. (To be continued.) TWO CHAPTERS ON KERÂNEES. BY JOHN LANG. I. HAT is a Kerânee?" nine tenths of the readers of this journal will ask, on seeing the above heading. "Is it a bird? or a fish? or any other animal? or the name of a place? or what ?" The Kerânee is a human being, known all over India. His occupation, Ugh! How cursedly careful you all are of usually, is that of a clerk or copyist. He must me," said the Major, with an unpleasant wheez-not be confounded with either a Baboo, or a ing laugh. "Luckily for me you are all in-native writer; for his great boast is that he is terested in keeping me alive. If I had anything not a native, but an Eurasian, and a Christian. to leave behind me, I should have a poor look An Eurasian is what the word signifies, out of it." admixture of European and Asiatic." He dozed off again. Miss Brown bathed his forehead with a sponge, and stood motionless. "May I hope to be forgiven for this folly?" Alfred asked on the threshold of the door. "Never!" was Clara's answer. The young man shrugged his shoulders, and exclaimed, with a very sorry attempt at gaiety, "After all, its no hanging matter. Ladies, good evening." Alfred Thorne was bowed out of the room. Clara Gaveston maintained a rigid attitude till he had departed, and then fainted away quietly on the nearest sofa. Miss Brown flew from her post at the invalid's chair, caught the falling girl in her arms, and hastily proceeded to administer restoratives 66 an The reader must not imagine that I am going to write about those people who are harshly spoken of, in India, as "half castes "-many of whom are well-educated, well-mannered, and in every respect presentable persons, holding well paid appointments, to which are attached great responsibility. The Kerânees are entirely different beings, and, in about fifteen cases out of twenty, whatever trifling vestige of European blood may be flowing in their veins, is Spanish or Portuguese. If you go into that quarter of Calcutta which the Kerânees inhabit, and inIquire the names of such as you meet in the narrow streets, you will be told "Gonsalves," "De Cruz," "Gomez," or "Pereira." These four great and high-sounding names are as common as |