‘They did,’ answered the young officer. ‘But I am perfectly aware it was no fault of yours. I then wrote to your father, asking permission to see you, telling him that I had some expectation of recovering what my parent so unfortunately lost, when I hoped to be able to maintain you in a manner worthy of our ancient house. But two hours afterwards, my letter was returned!—yes, returned, Amy, and with it was inclosed a note from your father forbidding me to enter the house or seek an interview with his daughter. I disobeyed the latter part of his injunction, and have succeeded, darling, in meeting you once more.’ As we intend to follow Reginald in his quest, it is needless to repeat here the story of his hopes as he hastily unfolded them in the ears of Amy Thorpe; enough that, after remaining together as long as, or perhaps longer than prudence enjoined, the two tore themselves asunder, with thrice-repeated vows of fidelity and affection. The remembrance of their tender parting was to Reginald in after-years like a strain of sweet, bygone music passing through his memory. That very evening the young lieutenant quitted Fridswold. His way lay in a different direction from that leading to Coombe Hall, and the farewell glance he gave back only showed him the black bulk of the minster towering above a mass of smoky chimneys. The suburbs of the town were speedily left behind, and soon a prospect lay before Reginald’s eyes which for savage desolation he had never seen surpassed. Extending as far as the eye could reach, stretched a dreary waste of flooded fields, black peat, broken ice, and frozen sedge, dotted at remote intervals with a few scanty willows. The wind was rising again, bringing up with it heavy clouds, and its moaning voice rustled among the patches of alder and withered rushes like a low, dying murmur. Taking warning by these signs, Reginald urged his horse forward to a quicker pace than hitherto, riding swiftly and eagerly into the gathering darkness of the night. THE RING-TRICK. A CURIOUS COINCIDENCE. Some four years ago I was one of the many hundreds of somewhat aspiring youths who were seeking positions as Civil servants under our government. In order better to work up for the very difficult examinations which it is necessary to pass in order to gain these positions, I had joined the evening classes of a well-known London college. These classes were held twice in every week, and it was on my way to one of them from my home—I live in a northern suburb of the metropolis—that the events I am about to relate took place.