“Your own stout heart put it there. You were recalling what young Conway was telling us about poor Jack's plans and projects; and how, when the war was over, he 'd get the Sultan to grant him a patch of land close to the Bosphorus, where he'd build a little kiosk for us all, and we 'd grow our own corn and have our own vines and fig-trees, seeking for nothing but what our own industry should give us.” “Dreams, dreams!” said he, sighing drearily. “You may read the letter now.” And she began,-- “Sir,--By direction of Mr. Davenport Dunn, I have to acquaint you that the Commissioners, having overruled the objections submitted by him, will on Tuesday next proceed to the sale of the lands of Kellett's Court, Gorestown, and Kilinaganny, free of all charges and encumbrances thereon, whether by marriage settlement--” “I told you,--that's just what I was saying,” burst in Kellett; “there's not sixpence left us!” She ran hurriedly over to herself the tiresome intricacies that followed, till she came to the end, where a brief postscript ran,-- “As your name is amongst those to be reduced in consequence of the late Treasury order regarding the Customs, Mr. Dunn hopes you will lose no time in providing yourself with another employment, to which end he will willingly contribute any aid in his power.” A wild, hysterical burst of laughter broke from Kellett as she ceased. “Isn't there any more good news, Bella? Look over it carefully, darling, and you 'll surely discover something else.” The terrible expression of his face shocked her, and she could make no reply. “I 'll wager a crown, if you search well, you 'll see something about sending me to jail, or, maybe, transporting me.--Who's that knocking at the door there?” cried he, angrily, as a very loud noise resounded through the little cottage. “'T is a gentleman without wants to speak to the master,” said the old woman, entering. “I 'm engaged, and can't see anybody,” rejoined Kellett, sternly. “He says it's the same if he could see Miss Bella,” reiterated the old woman. “He can't, then; she 's engaged too.” The woman still lingered at the door, as if she expected some change of purpose. “Don't you hear me?--don't you understand what I said?” cried he, passionately. “Tell him that your master cannot see him,” said Bella. “If I don't make too bould,--if it's not too free of me,--maybe you 'd excuse the liberty I 'm taking,” said a man, holding the door slightly open, and projecting a round bullet head and a very red face into the room. “Oh, Mr. Driscoll,” cried Bella. “Mrs. Hawkshaw's brother, papa,” whispered she, quietly, to her father, who, notwithstanding the announcement, made no sign.