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[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.] TOLD JN THE TWILIGHT. > A Scries of Short Stories By ADELINE SERGEANT, ""•'I- (If Jacllbi's Wife," lite Great Mill- ;¡ street Mystery"$r., §c. [ALL MUNIS BISERVED.J No. 3. THE SQUIRE'S MISTAKE. (COMPLETE IN THIS NUMBISII.) E—^ t\ I I Iw f were rich in the | 11 l^n possession of a Squire — | I as well as of an Karl Lu L jfoffipM at Underwood. The old Hall had been in u existence some hun- V NK# dreds of years before V\ IfHs Airedales came fVT • into the parish; and naturally » prided himself upon V5 EtfM vJ/TS BUPer'or &»ti- fSjgc^-n quity of his house *nd family. He did |\ Pv not exactly look down W tipon the Earl—he v was too good a Con- servative for that; bub he treated him, as it were, with a W tipon the Earl-he v was too good a Con- servative for that; JRf hub he treated him, as it were, with a sort of genial pat- .aSt*) as a man who was a little over- ..e, £ hted with a title which he had not exactly ^served. Velhe squire—Harold Lester by name-was UsI* old-fashioned in his notions. He still e, faiiiiiy coach, the great yellow Ui V'0^' keen *n existence for an So' r'°wn number of years and he preserved !)r)'^e little peculiarities of dress which are ij. n°w generally seen. lpor instance, he j( Va.rs wore a frill to his shirt when he was eVt*n in or dress, and silver buckles on his ino68' s^rong Conservative notions, lowre°ver, about the necessity of keeping the )jj er elassea in their places, and teaching t 11' as little as possibin, save to woi-li wit)i t0"'h*»"i, And curtsey, or touch their hats aid r superiors. Gentlemen, he con- vV(rc above the common herd— 'n nobility of mind and thought as ^d' ?' P0s'tl0n* "Well, poor old man, he I,1oJ ts crochets, and I am afraid many big e-rn gentlemenwould not answer to it 1(lea' I but his standard was one which be if every man, gentle or Plp> could adopt, For it was a standard Un8»ipl»Ie,s honour, integrity, purity, and ju UlshRess such as would not disgrace a 0i a Gordon. And it was according chil i Standard that he had trained hid ar,<~ a^' aPPeal'aiiCe result was satisfactory. <»: Y°''othy Lester was one of the sweetest 0|f I have ever seen, but she was distinctly °f th ^'one^ when compared with other girls ]ja- Present day, such as my niece, Lisa (Un^v!"0^' or Charteris, the rector's er- She could not play tennis, and ^d never taken up any of the modern fifae about china painting and wood carving. Performed very indifferently on the ^0> and she did not paint in water-colours, itj sew. however, and she was learned ille °*ery and othar domestic arts. do not ]ec, n J1* say that she was deficient in intel- H,j a' Power, but her talents were of a quiet, har^s.tUn'n« order, such as tended to the jU^yness of a home rather than the develop- #ohtf ker mind. Her reading was of a of'|VM'^er- I don't know how many tomes '°tson and Barrow, Gibbon and Hume, appr a<\ not consumed. The Squire dis- l>0,0lJeQ °f modern poetry and novels, and l»tetl J7' at three and twenty, had never Ijov .c>.w^ to read a newspaper. J-escer° elder brother, Capiain Harry lle lVas of course allowed a wider range. \va& (lavairv regiment, and his father ^.rv Proud of him and denied him Now and then a rumour came to a g.0u^Vuo^ lhat the young man was spending • i a' °* ln0Tie.v) or leading a rather °f Iiar* nobody believed any harm SoilXestr^ s'er« who was the brightest, hand- had ev\Illl>st wineome lad that L'nderwood *I^«t/^<i}1'S'een': an<^ certai,,1.v fat^el' D\ainta- j11 to uttermost, and always was the sovil of honour If ,e •'n*er of the house of LohV.r. fe<iuire's ,iuil!iy morning in July when the ^UiCe aiLti? jn his son was first shaken. Koinry j s^eath he had been in th« haliit 8°°n with Dorothy every day ^tther t'l rtai;^asl:' 1 hey did not usually go c.°nsidera? S' ounds, but thise covered a era.1;l <3 'ikedt0 a ^Pace, and, as the old man always 111 the sta^Ul'ne in.t0 tbe fJ,ate of bls fit col,s '^thoiigg^i!' ^'le and orange trees in the. l!lamet^r i "le*:Siict degree to which the ther- ;l'aount of f/' 1'se.n or fallen, and the precise ^Vl!o»3 „0 rainfall, these absorbing QCCU- Kave tL U"!C^ a Par^ °' morning j-Ranted 6 Y'1111'6 quite as much exercise aa **iroaks t\ • °^er daJ- he went up to r,! on the Bench, attended paro- obial meetings, conferred with his bailiff, or interviewed his tenants. He was always busy and happy, ana imagined that Dorothy was as satisfied with the life she led as he was with his own; but I always had my doubts of Dorothy's perfect content. She was very fair, with scarcely a touch of colour in her cheeks. Her hair was light And smooth, parted in the middle and plaited neatly at the back; it was very thick and long, and of satiny texture, but without any touch of fashionable flufliness. Her light brown eyebrows were singularly long and straight, a fact which added to the tranquility of her expression. Her eyes were grey—good, calm, sweet eyes, not remarkable for beauty, but soft and gentle like herself. When she joined her father in the garden, on that sunny July day, she looked like an imperso- nation of maidenly purity and charm. She wore a plain white frock and a straw hat, and she carried two or three red roses in one hand and a bunch of keys in the other. Come Dorothy, Dorothy, you are late, said the squire impatiently. I've been waiting half an hour for you. What have you been doing, chiid." I "1 think you are wanted in the oak par- lour, papa, Stevens said thit a person was waiting for you there." Why does not Stevens tell me so him- self, my dear ? Has the letter-bag come ? I expected a letter from Harry it seems a lo:time since we heard from him." You forget, papa dear He told us that we must not expect to bear from him while be was in Norway. He should not write more than a line or two till he got back" "Ah. yes, I remember'" said the Squire, whose memory was beginning to be treacherous, aud who did not like to own the fact. 11 But he might have written us a line. A person in the oak parlour? Why did not Stevens come out to tell me ? "Stevens seemed quite nervous end frightened, papa. He did not like to leave the man alone-he thought that it might be a burglar. The man pushed past him quite rudely into the room, and spoke of waiting until he saw you, as if he thought that you would not receive him." "Stevens would have done better to turn the fellow out than to mount guard over him while you did his errands, my d-ar." Oh, but, papa, the man said he had come on Harry's business, and Stevens did not like to send him away." that alters the case a little," 3aid the Squire, after a momentary pause. Come, my dear, then, let us go to the parlour. You can come with me, too I am sure there is no business of Harry's which you may not hear." Papa," said Dorothy, with gentle wisdom —where had she learnt it all, I wonder ?—" I "Etuamy old l>'aCt," the strarger was olscrvwg. Wants a lit of xcluinoash all over this llaclc wood." I think that, perhaps, Harry may have got into t debt, or have some little diiliculty that be may want you, and you only, to know of, so I had better leave you to talk to the man alone. I will come in afterwards, if you want me," "No, Dorothy, no," said Mr. Lester, in an aggrieved and injured tone, how can you talk in that way of your brother, child" Come in with me and hear what this man has to say. {If the two, I think that Dorothy bad more worldly wisdom than her father. Certainty it was with some misgiving that she followed bin. into the panelled room which was generally Known as the oak parlour. Here a young man was lounging in the squire's own elbow chair, with a curious air of proprietorship. One might havo thought that the whole house belonged to him from the way in which lit had established himself. One fuot rested on the rung of another chair, the other was crossed negligently ever his knee. He had not removed his hat, and he was sucking the knob of his cane, and apparently making remarks on the house and furniture io Stevens, the butler, who maintained an attitude of silent dignity at a sideboard -in which stood some silver flagons, which irere the delight of Stevens's heart. The oak parlour was used as a dining-room when Dorothy and her father were alone, and several valuable pieccs of silver adorned the old oak tables. Kummy old place," the stranger was observing. "Wants a bit of whitewash all I over this black wood, don't it? I hate this old-fashioned sorb of thing I like a bit o' style." He looked unconcernedly at the squire when he entered, but on perceiving .Dorothy he had the grace to rise, take the hat from his head, and make her a sort of bow. He was not a bad-looking fellow after all. I have seen him myself, and can testify to his manly beauty. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and well set up"; his bair was cut close to his shapely head and to the nape of his red neck his face was sunburnt, a little coarse, I and well-featured; and if his bluej eyes had been as pleasant as they were hand- some, they would have won him a good deal of admiration. But they had an oddly dis- agreeable expression they were bold, and yet they were cunning; they sneered, and yet they were afraid. For my part, I nevjr saw any man who impressed me less favourably than this Mr. David North, which was the name he gave. The Squire and Dorotby bo:h disliked him at once. Ilis checked Tweed suit, his bright blue tie, the rings on his lingers, and the magnificence of his silver-mounted cane assured the Squire at once that he was "a low fellow—a man that had no business in a gentleman s house at all."r He was sorry that he had brought Dorothy into the room he had an instinctive reluctanoe to letting this man look at her. But, having brought her, he did not like to send her away again. Stevens retired, however, not without a doubtful look at the stranger, and an evident desire to do battle with him for the honour of the oak panels. May I ask your business, sir ?" asked the Squire, in bit; coldest manner. Well, before I tell you that," said the young man jauntily, "don't you think you'd better send the young lady away ? Ladies don't understand business; and you and me had better settle this little matter between ourselves. Money affairs, you know, miss, that's all. Nothing you'll care about in the very least." "If it is a money matter," said Mr. Lester, "my daughter will be as much interested as I am, because she helps to manage all my money affairs. Sit down, my dear Dorothy, and let us hear what this—a—gentleman has to say Dorothy seated herself, and looked with some anxiety at the stranger's face, as he fumbled for a paper in a pocket-book, with a jerk of his arm and a stoop of his whole body, which struck her as singularly ungrace- ful. For some reason or other, she scented danger in the air. My name's David North," said the young man. "L belong to a banking firm in Dublin." Harry Lester had recently been quartered in Dublin. "I've brought a little bit of paper with me that I would like you to aee." He spread out a cheque before him, and pushed it toward the Squire, keeping a hold upon it, meanwhile, with one finger. "There, that's your son's writing, isn't it ?-endorsed by him, you see. 1 t's his fist, ain't it, Miss ?" Yes, it's his hand," said the unsuspecting Squire. It looks like it," said Dorothy. The young man brought his great red fist down upon the paper with a victorious thump. "Of course, it is. And you see what it is, eh? A cheque for five hundred pounds from me, David North, to Harry Lester, eh ? Well, I tell you it's a forgery. I never drew that cheque! I drew one for five! He's altered it-your son's altered it, air forged the amount, and I've come here to tell you that I'll have the lalv of him, as sure as my name's North." He squared his elbows and looked at the father and daughter with an air of insolent triumph. Mr. Lester started up, quivering, choking with rage and indignation. He tried to articulate, but after one or two feeble, spluttering attempts, fell back in his chair, speechless, but livid with emotion. Dorothy ran to his assistance, but could not forbear a glance of contempt when the young man proffered his assistance. a "Stand back, sir," she said, haughtily. My father does not need your help. Open the window, if you like. There—dear, dear papa, it is all a lie Harry would never do anything so dishonest—so basel Lookup; it is not true." For the squire's white head had sunk upon his breast, and the groan which he uttered might have wrung compassion from the flintiest heart. Even Air. David North winced at the sound, although his disposition was not a particularly merciful one. "Come, cjme, old gentleman," he said, don't take it to heart. It's true enough, 1 can't say different; but you needn't let it prey upon your mind. Look here, I'm willing to iiiak,, tei ms." Poor Mr. Lester looked up feebly. For the moment the power of speech seemed to have deserted him. It was Dorothy who spoke, strongly and passionately, as she had never spoken before "We will make no terms with you until we hear what Harry has to say. We wall confront h.m witfi you, and see if you dare persist in this wicked story. We know Harry—we know that he would never bring disgraca and dishonour upon our heads! Wait until he comes home, and you will see "But I 'jan't wait till he comes home, miss," said Mr. North, "because if I wait till then it'll be to let detectives on his track and clap him into prison as soon as he touches Eng- "Tffxl. Bud he's not very likely to come back. You think he's gone to Norway, don't you? Not he: my fine gentleman's off to America, and not likely to show his face again. You may have a letter from him to say so, and you may not; but, for all that, he's gone!" Gone said Dorothy and she shrank a little at the word. Mr. North turned towards her father. What's the good of discussing business with a girl in the room? How can ehe understand? If you'll just pack her off, you and J, sir, can talk the matter over pleasantly. I've no wish to make myseif disagreeable; but I must have my money and something else besides." "Yes, Dorothy-go-go; this is no place for you, said the old man nervously. Leave iiie to arrange matters. We must save the old house from disgrace." Let me stay, papa," Dorothy whispered, with one hand on her father's arm, but he thrust her tremblingly away. "No, no; go, child. The gentleman is right. We can talk of it better without you." I, Yon won't be Lard on poor Harry, papa, will you ?" llard on him ? Is it possible to be hard on him ? He is beyond punishment, beyond forgiveness. If he has done this thing, he u no son of mine I call on God to curae him for his villainy, and I pray that my shame may soon be hidden in the grave! And then the Squire broke down utterly; he buried his face in his hands and wept. Dorothy wept, too, but her eyes turned now and then towards the man who had brought them the tidings of Harry's crime and their misfortune. It seemed as if she mutely im- plored him to take baok his accusation, or at least to mitigate the severity of the blow. Mr. David North did not seem altogether in- sensible to those pleading looks. lie shuflled uneasily from one foot to the other, then half turned his back, and began prodding at the earth in a flower pot with his cane. He did not look round again until the girl, after kissing her father's bowed white head, had slipped quietly from the room, and then he heaved a very audible sigh of relief. Now she's gone," Dorothy heard him shv, we'll get to business, if you please." Dorothy went into her own little sitting- room, and there passed some of the bitterest moments of her life. Do as she would, she could not even yet believe that Harry was guilty of the crime laid to his charge. It seemed to her that there must be some ter- rible mistake. Only, surely her father would know If he had not been convinced, would he have giv 11 way so utterly? It se.-med to Dorothy that he had been very easily con- vinced. Perhaps when the stranger adduced his proofs, and they were found to be in- sufficient, as Dorothy felt sure that they would be, her father would recover his faith in poor Harry, and take back the terrible words that he had spoken. Dorothy buoyed up her spirits with this hope. But when, after the longest hour that she had ever spent in her life, the Squire came forth from the oak parlour, Dorothy's hopes were dashed to the ground. Papa, dear t what are you going to do ? she asked, putting her arms round his neck- There was 110 need for her to ask whether he believed the stranger's story; his white, grief-stricken countenance tu!d the tale too well. Oh, Dolly, Dolly moaned the old man, letting his head fall against hers; would to I God that I bad died before I saw this day." "Do you think that Harry has done this thing, papa? I cannot believe it. Bemnnber how brave and true and honourable he always was. I cannot think Hush, my child," said the Squire, recover- ing all his dignity, and lifting his hand to stop her words. Hush Let me never hear that unhappy young man's name again. L have, unfortunately, only too strong proof of his gu It. All that I can do for him I will do, but let him never cross my threshold while I live, for I will not see his faoe again." Dorothy had been silently crying, she now raised her head to protest. Papa, I don't think it can be true: Silence, Dorothy," said the Squire, with unaccustomed harshness. Jt is uot for you to set up youropiniou against written proof. Do not speak to me again on tho jRibj^oi, Surely it is enough for me to h& Ie to bay off that man, without your opposing me and setting up your wlllagaiuit mine." All this was a mere outburst of sorrow rather than of anger, and as such Dorothy loVingty accepted him. She assured him that she had not meant to oppose him, and theu asked whether Mr. North had gone. No, my dear, no," said her father, avoid- ing her eyes and looking troubled; "1 shall have to consult my lawyer before I can give him what he wants-and in the meantime he is to stay here." "Hero; Can he not go to the Airedale Arms ?'' We must be civil to him, Dolly, we must indeed," said the old man, nervously. "Although I shall never forgive Harry, never see his face again, I will not let him be dis- graced in the eyes of the world. I would rather give every penny 1 have than that. You see, it would be a disgrace to you, to your dead mother, to all of us if the truth were known. Better to keep the man here, under our own eye, where he cannot chatter about our affairs, than let him go to the village inn." Dorothy's face expressed bewilderment. "But what are we to do with him ? "she said. Is he to go to-to-the servants' hall ? He if not a gentleman." "Dorothy, do you want to ruin your brother ? the Squire broke out, in impotent fury and distress. Don't you see that we must humour the man ?-that he must not be offended or inconvenienced in any way ? If he wants to stop here, he must stop and he—he must have the best room, Dorothy, and you must order a good dinner, and see that everything is comfortable for him-so that he may not hurt Harry." Dorothy looked at her father in silent amaze. Was his mind giving way P This abject fear of that vulgar man—and all for the sake of the son whom he had professed to cast off—this attention to his creature com- forts, was intolerable to the girl. Her confi- dence in her brother's integrity would have led her to turn the man out of doors, and refuse to listen to a word he said But ahe reflected sorrowfully that perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps—even if dear old Harry were innooent-i t was better to conciliate this horrible man, who was making a profit for himself out of his accusation. So she set to work, with a heavy heart, to arrange for a room for the unwelcome visitor, and to order an especially dainty dinner for his delectation. It was a strange way of treating the man whom Dorothy at that moment thought the most hateful monster that the world con- tained. Mr. North seemed to find his quarters very comfortable. He ate and drank largely, h9 smoked unlimited numbers of cigars, he walked into the hot-houses and helped him- self to the finest fruit. Unmindful of his host's gloom and his hostess's coldness, he laughed and talked immoderately, without troubling himself about replies. Dorothy would have taft him but for an imperative sign from her father that she should remain in the room. She was even obliged to show the stranger about the grounds and pick flowers for him, but this was not even for Harry's sake, it was for her father's. Harry would never have wished me to pay court to this man," said Dorothy to herself, when sore and angry feelings brought the hot tears to her c.yes, but for poor papa's sake I will do it. I suppose it will not be for long." But for how long a time the infliction was to last did not appear. 31 r. North showed no signs of wishing to depart. "Oh, I'm in no hurry." be said, when the Squire spoke the next morning of going up to London to see his lawyer about raising a sum of money (for ready money was not plentiful with the Squire) I don't mind staying here a day or two. Don't hurry yourself, Squire." Must you go up to Hown and leave me

F R Y'S PUItE CONCENTRATED C 0 C 0 A. From W, H. 3TAKLEY. M.D.. &,c. 1/ I consider it a very delicious Cocoa. It is highly concentrated, and therefore econo- mical as a Family Food. It is the drink pur excellence for Children, and gives no trouble in making." ——— PAUL" EXHIBITION, 1889, GOLD MIC DAL AWARDED TO J. S. FRY and S >NS.

fl|ga» CST TBS MFSB AT TBE TOP AD SUSS fm: SECOND INSIDE THE FIRST HALF.

with that man ?" Dorothy inquired of her father afterwards, in some not unnatural con- sternation. "1 must go, my dear. (-'o u't d i i't'soti have your friend, Mrs, Daintivy, to keep you com- pany for the day ?' Not without telling her why, papa. And, of course, I cannot do that," said Dorothy. And, indeed, she never mentioned the man to me for many a long day. Then you had better come up to London with me, but 1 don't like leaving him with the servants. He might talk to them." I'll stay, papa; 1 don't mind," said Doro. thy, heroically. And it was a more trying matter to her than her father imagined, for Mr. North had already shown an unqualified disposition to make love to the Squire's pretty daughter. You ain't my style, you know," he took an opportunity of saying to her when th« Squire had gone; "I like girls to be up to everything and full of life and fun; and you're an old-fashioned, prim-looking little thing, but I like you all the same. If you like to cast in your lot with me, Miss Dolly, and take me for better or worse, as the saying is, I'll let your father off paying me that five hundred pounds, and accept YOU ilHltead." I think we should prefer to pay you five hundred, or five thousand," said Dorothy, standing up very white and breathless, and clenching her little hand as though she would have liked to strike him with all her might. I would give every penny I had in the world sooner tliail even speak to you if .1 could Inoid it I" Little spitfire muttered North, as the swept out of the room like an offended duchess, little vixen! But I'll pay her foi it yet, just as I'm paying out that pi eoioul brother of hers." And he did not know that his words were overheard and carefullj treasured up by the wafchful Stevens, whe happened" to be engaged in arranging t-h-t flowers on the table in the next room. lIe did not see Dorothy again until her father came back from London in the even- ing, so he employed himself iu walking to the railway station to buy a selection of newspapeis, which be read with apparent interest. Mr, Lester informed his daughter that he had made arrangements for procuring the sum of money required, and that it would be in his hands in a couple of days; in th< meantime, Mr. North must remain at the Hall and be treated with decent hospitali y. But the next day, as it happened, was Sun- day -an unfortunate fact for the Squiie and his daughter. Mr. Lester would not hear of staying at home from church, when Dorothy tenderly besought him to do so. Why should I stay at home ? he said sternly. •Are we not trying to put a good face upon the atftttoty and not let the world know thai my only lion he*disgraced me? And if we are in trouble, where øIM would you have me go but to the house of God ? Put on your bonnet in good time, Dorothy we must uof skirk our duties either to God or man." But Mr. North—will he come with usf faltered Dorothy. I neither know nor care. He will do at he pleases," said the Squire shortly. Mr. North's pleasure was to accompany hit host to church. The Squire's pew was in a conspicuous position—only a shade less con- spicuous than that of Lord Airedale himself— and it must be confessed that he suffered under the infliction of Mr. North's companion- ship. The man was as showily and vulgarly attired as ever; he looked like an underbred groom, out of place. Everybody stared at him, for reports o.f. the stranger had already got abroad, and hit appearance certainly confirmed all that had been said against the odd visitor at the Hall, And Mr. North's behaviour in church was scandalous to the simple country folk. He lounged, he yawned, he even whispered, with an odious pretence of familiarity, to Dorothy behind his hand. He could not, or would not, find the place in his Prayer Book, and he ogled the rector's daughter so insolently that i saw the fierce colour flush up into her face more than once during the service. Dorothy heard no word of either sermon, prayer, ot hymn. She was absorbed in her sensations of utter misery, of wounded pride and wounded love, and she had seldom been so thankful for anything in her life as she was when the Benediction was pronounced and she was fre, to seek the seclusion of her home. Of course she did not escape without hear* ing a question and a remark or two. \Vho'l your father's friend, Miss Lester ?" Lord Airedale asked, with some curiosity. Cecil Charteris, the rector's daughter, put her hand into Dorothy's with a meaning lift of the eye- brows, at which poor Dorothy could not smile. As for me, I walked down to the gatii with the girl and asked her whether ahe would not spend the day with me, rather than be quite alone with her father and a strange gentleman. Oh, thank you, dear Mrs. Dain- trey," Dorothy said, with a very pathetic look in her grey eyes, but I am afraid my father wants me. I am sure he would not like me to go out to-day Another time, please." And I was forced to be content, although I greatly disapproved of the state of things. It was so silly, I thought, of dear, old. fashioned, prim little Dolly to make herself the talk of the neighbourhood by acting, hostess to soma unknown and decidedlj vulgar-looking man. And what was the Squii^, thinking of to permit it? To Mr. Lester's great relief, the money arrived on Monday morning, and as soon as it was paid North began to talk about going, There's a train at five-thirty that'll just about suit me," he observed, I- and if you'll send m8 and my bag down to the statiom Squire, I'll be obliged to you." To which the Squire replied very truly that he wou.d send Mr. North and his bag to tbe station with much pleasure. So at five o'clock tbe dog« cart was brought round to the^front door, and the household saw the unwticome visitoi prepare to depart. lie stood with Dorothy once more in th* oak parlour. Stevens was waiting in the hall, the old Squire had gone nito another rooug.