"We do not mean to be parted, however," he said. "You must double your allowance, mother, and then see how much you can add to that."

She looked at her son, clasping her hands together, her face, amid the whiteness of her dress, whiter still, its only colour the eyes, so bright and trustful by nature, looking at him with a supreme but voiceless appeal. Whether it touched him or not, could not be seen: he stirred a little, but probably only as a relief from his attitude of stillness and his face was too deep in the shade to betray any expression for good or for evil.

Then Mrs Ogilvy rose up trembling to her feet. She said, clasping her hands again as if to strengthen herself, "I have been very wishful to do all to please you to treat you, Mr Lew, as if you were-what can I say?-not my own son, for he is but onebut like the son of my friend. But I have a duty-I am not my own woman, to do just what I please. I have a charge of my son before the Lord. I will give you this money to take you away, for this is not your place or your home, and you have nothing ado here. But my son: Robbie, all I have is yours you can have it all when you like and how you like, my own boy. But not to go away with this man. If you will forsake your home, let it be well considered and at another time. To take you away with this man, fleeing before the pursuer, taking upon you a shame and a sin that is not

yours- No! I will not give you a penny of your father's money and my savings for that. No, no! all, when you will, in sobriety and judgment, but nothing now.'

Her smallness, her weakness, her trembling, were emphasised by the fact that she seemed to tower over Lew where he sat, and to stand like a rock between the two strong men.

"You're a plucky old girl," said her antagonist, with a laugh-"I always said so-game to the last: but we can't stand jabbering all night, don't you know. Business is business. You must fork out if you were the Queen, my fine old lady. Sit down, for there's a good deal to say.”

"I can hear what you have to say as I am, if it is anything reasonable," Mrs Ogilvy said. She felt, though she could scarcely keep that upright position by reason of agitation and fear, that she had an advantage over him as she stood.

He sprang to his feet before she knew what was going to happen, and with two heavy hands upon her shoulders replaced her in her chair. I will not say forced her back into it, though indeed that was how it was. She leaned back panting and astonished, and looked at him, but did not rise or subject herself to that violence again.

"I hope I did not hurt you-I didn't intend to hurt you," he said: "but you must remember, mother, though you treat us as boys, that we're a pair of not too amiable men and could crush you with a touch, with a little finger," he added, looking half fiercely, half with a jest, into her eyes.

"No," she said very softly, 'you could not crush me with all your power."

not

"Give that paper here, Bob,' said his chief.

Robert scarcely moved, did not reveal himself in any way to the light, but with a faint stir of his large shadow produced a folded paper which had been within the breast of his coat. Lew took it and played with it somewhat nervously, the line of white like a wand of light in his hands. "You are rolling in wealth," he said.

She made as if she had said "No!" shaking her head, but took no other notice of the question.

"We have reason to suppose you are well off, at least. You have got your income, which can't be touched, and you have got a lot of money well invested."

She did not make any reply, but looked at him steadily, marking every gesture.

"It is this," he said, "to which Bob has a natural right. I think we are very reasonable. We don't want to rob you, notwithstanding our great need of money you can see that we wish to use no violence, only to set before you what you ought to do."

"I will not do it," said Mrs Ogilvy.

"We'll see about that. I have been thinking about this for some time, and I have taken my measures. Here is a list which we got from your man-the old fogey you threatened us with- or at least from his man. And here is a letter directing everything to be realised, and the money paid over to your son. You will sign

"Robbie himself," said Lew, in the easiest tone, "as it was he who had the best, the only, right to find out. Now, mother, come! execute yourself as bravely as you have done the other things. Sign, and we'll have a glass all round, and part the best friends in the world. When you wake in the morning you'll find we've cleared out."

"It was Robbie," she said to herself, murmuring, scarcely audible to the others, "it was Robbie

-Robbie himself." She took no notice of the paper which was placed before her. All her mind seemed occupied by this. "Robbie-it was Robbie, my son.'

"Who should it be but Bob? Do you think that information would have been furnished to me? What did I know about it? It was Bob, of course; and don't you think he was quite right? Come! here's pen and ink ready. Sign, and then it will be all over. It goes against me, mother, to ask anything you don't like-it does, though you mayn't believe me. Now, one moment and the thing will be done."

He spoke to her, coaxing her, as to a child, but there was a kindling devil in his eye. Robbie never raised his head or opened his mouth, but he made to his comrade an imperative gesture with his hand. The tension was becoming too much to bear.

"Come, mother," said Lew, "sign-sign!"

This time she did not rise up as before. She had a faint physical dread of provoking his touch upon her person again; but she lifted her head, and looking at him, said steadily, "No."

"Old woman! you wretched old fool, trusting, I suppose, to that fellow there! Better trust me than him. Look here, no more of this. You shall sign whether you will or not.' He seized her hand as he spoke, thrust the pen into it, and forced it upon the paper. Her little wrist seemed to crush together in his big hand. She gave a faint cry, but no more. Her fingers remained motionless in his hold. He was growing red with impatience and fury, his eyes fierce, his mouth set. She looked up at him for a moment, but said not a word.

"Will you do it? will you do it?—at once!—when I tell you." "No."

He let her hand go and seized her by the shoulders. He had by this time forgotten everything except that he was crossed and resisted by a feeble creature in his power. And in this state he was appalling, murder in his eye, and an ungovernable impulse in his

She thought that she was dead. She thought it was death, her breath going from her, her eyes turning in their sockets. Next moment a roar of rage seemed to pass over her head, she was pushed aside like a straw flung out of the fiery centre of the commotion, the grip gone from her shoulders, and she herself suddenly turned as it were into nothing, like the chair at which she clutched to support herself, not knowing what it was. She had a vision for a moment of Robbie, her son, standing where she had stood, tearing and tearing again in a hundred pieces a paper in his hands, while Lew against the opposite wall, as if he too had been dashed out of the way like herself, stood breathing hard, his eyes glaring, his arm up. Next moment she was pushed suddenly, not without violence, thrust out of the room, and the door closed upon her. All was dark outside, and she helpless, broken, bleeding she thought, a wounded, lacerated creature, not able to stand, far more unable in the tumult and trouble of body and soul to go away, to seek any help or shelter. She dropped down trembling upon her knees, with her head against that closed door.

ONLY a mile at the most is it from one to the other; but to those who know that bit of winding woodland river well, it is a mile teeming with wild life, finned, furred, and feathered. In that short stretch I have seen nearly all the fauna of a southern county. For good reasons, doubtless, but known only to themselves, wild creatures will not leave certain places, whilst others they will not even visit. For forty-five years I have visited this mile of water and water-meadows, and wandered through the trees that border the streams. Creatures can be seen there that you might look for in vain elsewhere.

There is a mystery about this partiality that no one can explain, for the roads and paths, as also the meadow tracks, are well used by people all the year round; yet in the grey of the morning, or after the sun has gone down, if you know where to stand and how to keep quiet, three of our most astute animals, the fox, the otter, and at rare seasons the badger, will pass within a few yards of you.

And these creatures seem ever ready to take advantage of any alteration made by man for their benefit, though it may have been made all unwittingly by him. They locate here, and they will not leave their surroundings. When they are forced, however, by various circumstances over which they have not the least control, to shift their quarters, they adapt their ways of living to the places they frequent, not from choice but from necessity.

For three months, early in the morning and late in the evening, have I lately visited that run of

the river Mole from weir to mill, just to get some fresh facts about the wild things living there. One day in coming along, after a heavy gale, I was greeted by "Ah, he's down at last; 'twas the biggest beech on this ere place; that ere last flood settled him. I've noted as he's bin tottery like fur sum time; massy o'alive, the pity on it! There he lays, blockin' up the river, an' the top on him lopping in the medder tother side. A lot o' things lived in him, an' about him; an' the critters 'll miss him sore, tell 'ee. They gets out o' their homes same as we does at times. A couple o' yaffles got young uns thear, near flying-I'd seen 'em out shinnin' round the limbs ; but the jar o' the fall has killed 'em, poor things." The woodpecker's home a hole in the great stem showed, being above the water, and the old birds were creeping and moping round,.knowing full well that it was all up with them.

"An' them 'ere bellus bream," continued old John, "wunt know how to take it-it was theer reglar swimmin' place; backards and forrards under that ere old beech they went: they're bound to drop down the river now, to find a fresh swim arter this. Then some who comes to fish this stream will be sayin' there ain't no bream here. The critters has to shift; an' 'tis a very good job as ivry 'cuckoo' don't know the ways o' them, and whear they gits to."

John is as conservative as his so-called betters in these matters.

It is three o'clock in the morning in the middle of summer, and we are in one of the lush meadows that border each side of the river. The rooks in the lime

avenue have not wakened up yet properly. Only a few gabbles, croaks, and shriller notes from the young branchers, let you know that it will not be long before they are all wide awake for the day.

It is a warm dewy morning, the vegetation is drenched with moisture; the sun will be well up before the yellow irises and the marsh-marigolds open out. The fish take up most of our thoughts, however. We know of some very large chub and dace that have their hovers in and among the submerged roofs of some large pollard willows that lean out from the bank over the water.

Some folks say that fish are silly and devoid of the instinct given to other creatures, but such have never fished or they would have known better. These large chub and dace know something too much for me, at any rate; for try how or where I would, not one of the large ones have I captured. The great white lips of the chub showed as they rose and sucked in chafer, beetle, or caterpillar that had fallen from the trees into the water, and the quick dace made their darts at the provender on the water, but not a rise or a dart from either did I ever get, worth mentioning. Large fish that have lived long have all their wits about them. One small island close to shore, which in the season was white with snowdrops, was a favourite place for perch in passing on their way to deeper water above. It had a course of clear water, with a bottom of golden sand-a perchswim if ever there was one; but not a fish was hooked there, for this reason the creatures had been feeding on the shallows, and were going that way home to a deep hole by the side of the weir.

If the fish would bite, all well and good; if not, it mattered little to a naturalist, for there was plenty to see there. The heron would rise from his stand where he had been fishing; moor-hens flit in and out, flirting their tails; and now, and then you would get a sight of that hideling the landrail or corn-crake. You would hear him in any case. More than once have I seen fine specimens of the domestic cat, very full of something, where they would not be expected to be; and one morning I was fortunate enough to meet with a wild bred house-cat-that is, one of a lot of kittens littered far from any house. Unless they got shot or trapped, these wild litters do become wild in the full sense of the word, and they grow large. When this is the case they are mistaken at times for the real wild cat, but one feature alone will at all times distinguish them: the genuine but at the present time very rare wild cat has a thick bushed-out tail, which the ordinary house cat, or domestic cat that has run wild, never has. When met with, the wild things are always eager to get away, if by chance they are cornered: unless you have a gun or a good dog with you that can bite hard and hold fast, you had best let them alone.

The sun is well up over the hills that rise on either side of the beautiful Holmesdale valley, and light mists float over the tops of the firs that cover the sides of the warren. Box-Hill shows clear, the light clouds of vapour having drifted up from the valley and over the hill. The cattle rise up from their resting-places in the meadows and begin to feed; and the rooks have now returned with food for their families of "branchers," that will not be shot