the office to familiarize himself with the idea, and to get his excitement calmed down. But the more he thought, the less he could manage to get his excitement calmed down. It might be supposed that he would have thought first of all of the danger of being discovered, and the likelihood that something might arise which would betray him to his sister. But this was only his second impulse. The first was instinctive, a sudden surging up of family affection, a leap of his heart into old prejudices and tendernesses; and it was only when he had exhausted this that he thought of the risk that he would inevitably run when Liddy found herself brought into contact with a man bearing so marked a name as that of Isaac Oliver. He laughed within himself, half bitterly, half with a sort of amusement at the sudden image which her little cry of surprise and startled look brought before him as well as before herself--Old Isaac Oliver! He remembered every line of him, all in a moment, his stooping, his shuffling, his desire to give good advice, his fear of his Missis, and almost laughed out at the strange connection he had himself formed between this grey old figure and himself. Why had he been so absurd as to choose such a marked name? But the idea that anybody could suppose him, Harry Joscelyn, to have anything to do with that old peasant, amused him more than all the rest. He could scarcely keep himself from shouts of laughter. He! The notion was too incongruous to be considered with gravity. It was an offence to him at the same time, but most of all it was ludicrous. And these people were coming to his house to-night, to dine at his table, to ask him questions, to make their remarks, to speak of old Isaac, and, perhaps, put it into the heads of his wife and her father that this was the kind of relation whom he had left behind him in England. The Bonamys had received him so generously, accepted his own explanations so easily, given him the best evidence of their perfect confidence and trust, and, if now they heard this fine story of the old north-country clown, what would they think of him? The more Harry thought of it the more he was confused and bewildered. Liddy had looked at him with a very penetrating, anxious look over Lady Brotherton’s shoulder. What was she so curious about? How could she know? And his wife and she would meet, would talk together, would perhaps come to confidences. He was not able to face the position. He was older and more experienced in many ways, but he was not experienced in such complications of circumstances. His head turned round and round. What was he to do?